Why I love what I do

As a child from a broken home having experienced permanent separation from my siblings at a young age, and during that process having been moved no less than a dozen or more times by the time I was 10 years old, I was keenly aware of what was missing from my then young life.

Intimacy.

Not the kind we adults crave (even in marriage), but the kind a child believes is innocent of perplexity, full of beauty, and perplexed only by mystery. Like new moss on an old dead stump bathed in the crisp essence of morning mist on the floor of a nearby forest. In my day as a child I grew up surrounded by those - forests (how lucky I am) - when we were not rolling down the highway.

My child hand's memory reveals the softness of that clean moss. That was intimacy - to a 7 year old innocent boy playing in the woods early enough in the morning to still witness the blanket of dew everywhere. Silver pearls on a web, the glistening edge of a grass blade - vivid reality of being present - in the moment.

Being blessed by a family that would have me and want me as their own before turning 11 taught me that intimacy is not earned. It is given, naturally, when it is the intimacy a child knows to be real and safe and the kind that a child yearns for in a simple hug, a glancing wink, a hand held often.

Growing up in THAT new life gave me wings to fly far, long, and wide - right into adulthood. I got to make choices! I never felt fear in what was to happen when I spread my arms on my bike of life just cruising downhill, wind sweeping my cheeks with the friction of glee.

Being bold and fearless took me into the lap of Uncle Sam and I saw a small part of the world on his big boats. I knew when I left him I would travel on my own some day, and I would see more of the world, some how, some way. But what I knew even more was that I would never get the chance to Superman off an aircraft carrier again, so given the choice at sea, I did just that. Oh what a ride!

Years and career practices later I was introduced more formally to the protective coatings industry and I managed a sandblasting and coatings application shop, leading into a more lucrative career opportunity with a coatings manufacturer that happened to manufacturer not far from my shop, in the Pacific Northwest.

That company found out how to make smart-moisture, and they sent me all over the world, and I saw most of the US states as well. The things I saw at someone else' home, shack, hut, in someone else' city, town, village, made me remember what I loved the most about that moss.

Intimacy.

Not the kind a child craves (even in their innocence), but the kind we adults crave (even in our marriages). Pure. Unadulterated. Simple. Never earned, but always given.

THERE IS NO COMPETITION. A family living and working from a shack on the side of a rain-forest hill with earth as their floor, having no tv, telephone, smart-phone, or even a toilet, let alone a Frisbee, has intimacy. I saw it in their smiles, felt it in their warm handshakes, and I delighted in receiving it wrapped in the arms of a stranger's child that welcomed me and saw me off with a hug that would calm the angriest beast.

Any home in America or any other country even having all the STUFF that we have would have the same child in that home, when intimacy is true and real. I know - I have yet to find a place anywhere in the world that it does not exist.

Because THERE IS NO COMPETITION in this sense of intimacy. Only need.

Being involved in various equipment and chemical retail and wholesale (as well as specific insurance) industries has placed me with incredible people - friends, strangers, employers, partners, engineers, painters, etc. - that have placed me in very different parts of the world that have shown me that what everyone on this marble wants is not so very different after all. In fact, it is exactly the same everywhere I go.

It is why we all do what we do. It is why a singer sings, a musician plays, a dancer dances. It is why people full of fear still choose to perform or speak in front of other people.

It is why a child's hug beats the morning dew any given day in the forest.

Seeing people in surroundings that need to be maintained reminds me that our promises and our intimacies need to be maintained. I get to be reminded of this in my work every day, in every way, and every where.

This is why I love what I do.

Robert L. Olmstead / Copyright 2016. Goodyear, Arizona