Are You A Warm, Cozy Blanket?

One recent morning I woke to the normal sound of my alarm. After turning it off, I lay in bed and for some reason memories from an event long ago flooded my mind… Unannounced, unanticipated, but certainly not unwelcome.

It was the early 80’s and I was 11, maybe 12. My parents sent my brother, my sister, and me to Florida that summer to spend some time with our grandparents.

But first, they needed to get us to the airport. Turns out, that’s not always as easy as it sounds… My mom was driving us to the airport, and we originally had plenty of time. Then we got stuck in a horrible traffic jam. Suddenly, we were now out of time… After the jam cleared my mom decided we needed to make up the lost time. I stared at the speedometer as it crept up to 80 miles an hour. I was at once a little scared and at the same time impressed with my mom. I had never been in a car going this fast! That little red Lincoln Zephyr she’d won from selling Avon was performing admirably (the Avon car is a totally separate story).

At the airport it was a mad dash for our gate. Heart pounding, and fearing we may not make it to Florida, I was devastated to see the gate was closed. But, things were different back then… The gate agents reconnected the jet bridge and allowed us to get on. Sitting in my seat, I was trying to sort through the excitement of going to Florida, the adrenaline from the mad rush, the relief of making it, the sadness of saying goodbye to my parents, and the fear mixed with excitement of flying by ourselves. The flight attendant took excellent care of us… she was very attentive, and I suppose the bag of peanuts and a soda may have helped a little too.

The flight was not as eventful as our drive to the airport and we soon landed safely in sunny Florida. We spotted our grandparents waiting for us and after a round of hugs and some excited chatter about our plane ride, we trooped out to their car.

The doors to the outside slowly swung open and my breath was almost taken away by the wall of humidity that slammed into me! The sweat that leapt onto my skin seemed instantaneous. I grew up in the dry southwest so this was a brand new sensation.

We made our way to their old brown car... I don’t remember the make or model, but I do remember it was old. Inside, we realized there was no air conditioning. Except for what my dad called “460” air conditioning… 4 windows down and 60 miles an hour. But… grandpa never, I mean never, drove 60 miles an hour!

I found the drive home amusing… Grandma never had her license and never drove a day in her life. Yet, she was instructing grandpa on his driving.

Among all the comments, directives, and demands, I distinctly remember, “There’s a bicyclist. Honk your horn so he knows we’re behind him!” She didn’t wait for him to respond and reached over to honk the horn.

Grandpa didn’t say much. He either did what she said, or didn’t. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t hear her or was pretending not to hear her (or maybe a little of both). When she called him by his first name, I knew she was getting a little frustrated. In any case, we made it home.

Home was a farmette with a milking cow, a few milking goats, and some rabbits. There were also some orange, persimmon, and papaya trees. Not only was there fresh cow and goat milk, but there was homemade cheese, freshly churned butter, and homemade yogurt. The next day we discovered the incredibly delicious smell of fresh baked bread. We were also introduced to grandpa’s favorite way to eat bread: a generous smear of homemade butter and a drizzle of honey…Gooey goodness on bread!

And just like the car, their house had no A/C. Sleeping was somewhat difficult. But despite the oppressive blanket of humidity, the fresh food was heavenly! Grandpa even butchered a goat and a rabbit. That’s another story (best saved for telling in person). Let’s just say it wasn’t the most pleasant experience, and maybe a bit disturbing. But it was a great life lesson: Food doesn’t come from a grocery store; it comes from the land and by the sweat of someone’s brow.

Sometimes during the day my brother, sister, and I would grab some fishing poles and walk down the crushed sea shell lane to a neighbors pond. Grandma walked everywhere barefoot, and I thought I’d try it too. My tender, shoe-covered feet were no match for the broken shells! But the redeeming feature of the roadway was that we sometimes found a shark’s tooth!

In the evenings after a day’s work outside, grandma would sit at her old sewing machine. She’d be mending clothes or making them for herself or grandpa. And grandpa would sit in his beat up recliner with his mouth wide open, softly (and at times loudly) snoring…

Then, a Thought…

I laid in bed not wanting to get up quite yet. Awash in the many sights, sounds, smells, textures, and tastes of these warm memories… Like a warm, cozy blanket on a cold, blustery day.

Then a thought snaked its way past the memories: what kind of memories do I create for those around me? Am I the warm, cozy blanket in someone’s cold, blustery day?

That thought has been brewing and rolling around in my soul ever since then.

A Simple, Yet Profound Leadership Lesson

As I pondered my waking memories and the resulting questions, I came to three conclusions…

Good character creates good memories. Who someone is in their deepest part (their soul, their heart) comes out in how they treat others. My grandparents created these warm memories not because they were trying so hard. It was just who they were… grounded, faith-filled, simple people who saw the value in others. In a way, the resulting actions were completely unintentional and almost automatic.

Thoughtful action is leadership. My grandparents were also intentional about including us in their activities. We experienced new and different things. We learned new things. Their good character drew us in, and their intentional acts sealed the deal.

No detail is too small. Our memories absorb the things that matter to us, the things that we feel more deeply about, the things that leave a greater imprint. I can’t recall the make or model of my grandpa’s car, but remember specific smells and sounds. The same thing happens to those around us. They may remember a certain glance, a terse word, a quick eyeroll, a careless comment, and any number of very small details. Small, but not insignificant.

We don’t always think about how many people’s lives we walk in and out of. The places, circumstances, and timeframes vary, but each is an opportunity to touch someone’s life in ways we often don’t realize.

For Reflection

Are you the warm, cozy blanket in someone’s cold, blustery day? If not, what needs to change?

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