Archive for July, 2021
The Blue Hydrangea
Two years ago today, we lost Mom.
It’s been a terribly long time. And just a blink.
I remember, on the day of funeral visitation, two of our neighbors made dinner for us. When we stopped home between the afternoon and evening sessions, there was a delicious meal waiting, the tables were set with linens and silverware, and each table held a vase of fresh-cut flowers. Our two-doors-up neighbor Diana had contributed the blooms from her own blue hydrangea bushes. I remember thinking that Mom would have loved the gorgeous simplicity of those bouquets.
After the funeral, as each bloom wilted, I felt sad and wistful, as you feel about small losses that follow a big one. Eventually, only one bloom remained. I checked on it each morning and would be so relieved to see that it had not yet wilted. That single bloom lifted my spirits. It outlasted July. It lasted through August. It lasted into September! It remained vibrant and flowering and had even sprouted new growth. The blue hydrangea on the window sill began to feel like something more than a flower. Diana and I both agreed, it was a message from Mom.
Yes. I know that conclusion is unlikely to be substantiated by any botanist. But, in times of impossible longing, we don’t really want science; we want magic.
I don’t know how long the magic might have lasted if I had just let it be, but, about midway through September, I had the brilliant idea that I should plant it. I did so, lovingly and carefully, and it looked great, for a bit. But then, one day, I looked close and discovered that the stem had become a stick.
I was so disappointed. I had failed, miserably. I had ruined something irreplaceable. And (I can chuckle about it now) I kept that dumb stick in a pot of dirt for a very long time.
Eventually, I decided I should buy one for myself, but you know how it goes. Regret dampens your enthusiasm. Times passes. You think of it, but there’s no time for the extra errand. You have no time to clear a spot in the garden. There are no blue hydrangeas in stock. There’s a global pandemic.
As of July 12, 2021, I still did not have any blue hydrangeas. Then, my phone dinged. I had a text message from Diana: Stop up when you get a chance.
I walked to her house and there, in a plastic container in the corner of her driveway, was a plant. I said, “Is that a hydrangea!?” She nodded. She’d dug up one of her beautiful blue hydrangea bushes, dug it up, root ball and all. I gasped. We hugged. It was one of the nicest acts of kindness, one of the very best surprises I have ever had. We shared a lovely moment. Then, we were grunting and giggling as we loaded that gigantic planter into a wheel barrow.
Friends, I give you the Blue Hydrangea, life preserver, show-stopping shrub, symbol of friendship, message from Mom.
Life Preservers 
Big Lies
This one time? In marketing? I worked at a company that had a client who lied, a lot. But she had a lot of money to spend, so the powers-that-be never stood up to her.
My experience has been that, with most clients, you don’t have to fake respect, but we all understand the occasional necessity to tolerate bad behavior from a difficult customer. Still, this particular person pushed things out beyond the farthest reaches of professionalism and into a bat-shit alternative universe.
The tales I could tell about that particular workplace would scorch your hair and pulverize your humerus. To share the antics of this one client would take pages and pages, but this post isn’t about reliving a nightmare or venting about tough times. To make a long, hilarious, excruciating story short, one day, this client called up the owner of the company and said, “So-and-so did something bad.”
Now, I was in the room during the event in question, and, I promise you, this was a lie. It was not a misunderstanding or a point of view. This was a blatant and preposterous lie fabricated to manipulate other people.
There are times when even the best of leaders must blow some smoke into some pretty awful spots, but, if you are a decent human, you don’t inhale while you’re down there. You don’t applaud the lie. You don’t punish so-and-so. You don’t say, “Well, what actually occurred is irrelevant; if the big important client said it happened, it is now the truth.” (Which is what was said to me when I tried to defend so-and-so.)
On another occasion, the same client told my immediate supervisor that I was a poor writer because I used prepositional phrases. He summoned me to his office and presented the feedback. I started to laugh, expecting him to commiserate and help me figure out how we were going to work around such an idiotic complaint. But, he didn’t commiserate; he told me with furrowed brow that he was disappointed to learn that I was such an amateur copywriter and ordered me to stop using prepositional phrases or else.
These are ancient anecdotes, long-ago, dusty things. They bubbled up today, not as grudge or complaint but in a small aah! of revelation related to current events.
I will tell you something true. There are two reasons why people support a blatant lie: (1) They are beholden to the liar or (2) They are too stupid to know better.
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July 18, 2021 at 12:27 pm Leave a comment