It’s not about things, it’s about people

I am about things, not people. I wake up thinking of all the things I need to accomplish. This habitual “multi-tasking” leaves me concentrating on my to-do list. If you need my time, let me know and I can pencil you in. So how does being about things and not people ruin you?

Life is about people. Some people alter who we are. Others let us change them. It’s like the tides: you can’t control them, you just learn to appreciate the high and lows. How long would you be happy without people? We need them just as much as they need us. How much of our happiness is dependent on things?

The people who make the biggest impact on our lives are never about things. They appreciate your value. They cherish their relationships, and that is what makes them rich. My dad was one of these people. He always found the time just for you. I always thought I was one of the few my dad would call regularly, but at his funeral I realized he kept in touch with everyone. His life was about people.

When we base our lives around things, people get crowded out. We miss the precious moments that can never be duplicated. We don’t enjoy the laughter, we have no time for solitude, we miss the abundance of the little things around us. The most valuable treasure is our memories. We never remember how much that car loved us, or how great that television treated us. The inanimate things fade from our minds. But we do remember how our children smelled, how someone felt in our arms, the sound of our favorite laugh, the sparkle of adored eyes. These are small things that happen every second of every day. They make an imprint on our soul, never to be erased. Life is about people, not things.

Don’t judge a book by its cover

You never know what’s under the surface. I love to use my intuition to read into any given situation. The problem with this is that we really are only looking at the top layer. It’s like deciding to swim based on the calm, clear water, not realizing there’s a raw sewage leak fifty feet away.

Everyone has their own toxic waste to deal with. Some wear a DANGER! DO NOT ENTER sign, while others deceive you by looking cool and inviting. We really don’t know what’s going on under the water. My instinct has served me well, but in this area it can lead me astray. I either don’t take the time to learn what is really going on, or I form an opinion based on my nearsighted perspective.

Like a book, people can have many chapters. Some are short and simple; others are long and complicated. You have to choose what you’re in the mood for. I know many who on the surface appear sweet and fragile, but that is just a veneer. Others will push you away with their harsh, unrefined attitude, but that's only a cover to protect the fragile being within.

When you go to the library, you have a large selection of reading material, but you usually narrow it down to a select few. This is based on the short time it takes to look at the cover. Unfortunately the surface can be deceiving. It take’s diligence to distinguish what's inside. Like books, the true value of a person is not the exterior, but the interior. Do they change your perspective? Do they make you smile? Do they offer you wisdom? Joy? Or are you left feeling empty and distraught?

We all have a variety of covers. Some are leather, slightly broken in and soft. Others are flashy, hard and new. A few are old and torn after many years of use. Some you can never read enough of; with others you won’t finish the first chapter. So take your time when you search for those that will be a part of your life, because you can never judge a book by it’s cover .

It’s our quirks that make us lovable

First off, let me define quirkiness: a peculiar behavior; idiosyncrasy. Now, I want you to think about those you love the most. What is it that made you fall in love with them? If you could describe their personality in three words, what would they be? What peculiar behavior makes them who they are? We all have unique characteristics: some of us are creatures of habit, some are frugal, some are blunt, some are hermits, some are flaky. If you died tomorrow, what would people remember most about you? What would make them laugh when they reminisced. I have found that most of these peculiar behaviors are actually subconscious, developed over years of adapting to the life we have been given.

I learned this valuable lesson after my dad died. I realized that it was his quirkiness that I missed the most. I missed his ability to tell the same joke over and over, making himself laugh every time. I missed his unorthodox outlook on life. I missed his love of the transient lifestyle. I missed his exaggerated stories. I missed his passion for eccentric music. These peculiar behaviors added to his lovability. Was my dad the only quirky one in my family? Unfortunately not.

I discovered that my mom, who might not appear quirky on the surface, has her own peculiar behavior. We lovingly call it W.C.S. She has the ability to tell you the Worst Case Scenario in every situation. This may not seem like a bad trait, until you are in a San Francisco elevator with her and she tells you how horrible it would be if a large earthquake were to hit at that precise moment. Or when you are ready to board an airplane and she tells you how many birds she saw on the landing strip, and how likely they are to get caught in the engine of the plane.

Almost everyone around us has some sort of behavior that makes them stand out. You can allow these qualities to irritate you or you can savor them, laugh about them and store them in your file for later, because those same quirks are what make us lovable, especially when we are gone.

Maybe they’re the normal ones

I have spent many days talking to others about my family’s crazy antics, and have enjoyed quite a few laughs at their expense. My dad, who has an amazing sense of humor and is one of the few who did not move to North Carolina, would call on a weekly basis and we would joke about my mom’s side of the family, whom he knew all too well. I think he got a sense of satisfaction from it.

Then, early one morning, I got the worst phone call of my life. My healthy, vibrant dad had suddenly died!

My sister and mom (who had divorced him twenty years earlier) had to fly out to California for his funeral. Now, you may believe that grief brings out the worst in people, and I am sure that is true for some individuals. But soon after arriving, I realized something profound: my dad’s side of the family, which I was rarely around, was just as crazy as my mom’s. That was the first phase of this light-bulb moment. The second phase came when I was talking to an old friend and telling him a story about my grandfather, who was on the top of my most-embarrassing list. My friend jokingly said, “Have you ever thought that maybe you’re the weird one and they’re the normal ones?”

Had I ever thought that? Not in a million years! But I couldn’t shake the comment. Maybe it’s because deep in my core I knew it might be true, but I didn’t dare admit it. What if I was the weird one? I had always felt different from the rest of my family. The puzzle piece that never quite fit, the incorrect color, the misaligned pattern, the piece that you were sure was in the wrong box. Everyone else seemed to have weird idiosyncrasies, but not me, I was the most functional normal of them all … or was I? This may be a sobering realization, but if you have gone through your whole life thinking you are normal and everyone else is weird, you may be wrong. That actually is the bad news. The good news is: we really don’t know what normal is anymore, so if 99% of people act a certain way and you are the 1% who doesn’t, who’s the odd bird? I realized that it was me.

In a way, this is a liberating feeling, because I can stop trying to be normal and finally let some of my quirky personality shine through. It’s actually fun joining the majority!