The rainbow ribbon

I stayed in a hotel for three nights over the weekend – I was competing in a dog agility competition. As I often do when I’m on the road, I try to guess what people do for a living, why they are staying in the hotel, and how they are connected to the people they are with. This turned out to be an extremely intense adventure.

Day 1: Riding down the elevator with my Sheltie and young Golden Retriever, I was trying my best to keep the white hair on the Sheltie and the muddy paws on the Retriever from annoying the elevator riders. There was a cute little boy who was in charge of pushing the elevator floor buttons for his family. The woman in the group asked what I was doing, and I explained that there was an agility trial five minutes up the road – maybe they’d like to come. She replied that they really wouldn’t have time. I felt sorry for the little Elevator Boy – he’d really enjoy watching the dogs race through the obstacles. I thought – oh they are probably going to a wedding – that’s nice. Later at breakfast I saw even more family members: a Grampa, a Grandma (I’m guessing here), maybe some aunts and uncles. Oh – maybe Elevator Boy was having a serious operation at a well-known medical center nearby; or maybe Grampa was having some treatments. Gulp.

Day 2: I rode down the elevator with my dogs again, but this time only one of the women was in the elevator. She mentioned that she was very happy that the elevator was working, because it was not working at 2am. I said, “Gee – what were you doing in the elevator at 2am?” She said, “We were toasting my husband – we’re burying him today. He was a security contractor killed in Afghanistan recently in the suicide bomber attack on CIA operatives.” Double Gulp. I gave her my sincere condolences, and quickly made the decision that I was not going to ride the elevator any more that day. I was heading out to the competition, and had to pull every motivational speaker bone in my body out to help turn my mood around. I decided that I would dedicate the rest of my weekend to her husband. It seemed so insignificant, but that’s what I could muster up. Later that evening I saw them on the news – the entire elevator family. Her husband’s name was Dane Paresi – the man closest to the suicide bomber – he saved a bad day from being worse. Wow!

Day 3: This time I rode down the elevator with Dane’s sister (I recognized her from tv). She was on a cell phone telling someone what a nice evening they had at Bennigan’s, a restaurant where you throw peanuts on the floor. She said everyone enjoyed that. I was relieved, because I did not have to speak to her – she was still on the phone. As I pulled out of the parking lot I saw the white limo waiting to pick up the Elevator Boy and his family.

And what about my weekend? My competition, dedicated to Dane, was the best one in over 6 years. A very intense calm and focus stayed with me all weekend, and resulted in an outstanding outcome. On Sunday, my dog received a Rainbow Ribbon – the highest award possible. Driving home I was still thinking about Dane’s family, and how insignificant my world was compared to what they were going through. The same thing is true for overcoming nervousness in presentations – keep things in perspective. That presentation is really not that important compared to all the critical things happening in the world. Keep things in perspective: it’s just a conversation. That’s all – just a conversation.