Sidewalk Ghosts / Slava – "Songs About Friends"

“What is your name?” I asked.

In deep dialect he responded, “Slava.”

“Do you have a hobby, Slava?” I casually followed up.

He paused, glanced at my reflection in the rear view mirror, eyes staring as if summing me up; and, after an uncomfortable delay–“Guitar.”

“What kind of music?” I inquired further.

He lightly laughed and then fell silent, letting the question float in the air like a sinking balloon.

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To say the least, I felt very rejected. It seemed that, for whatever reason, Slava did not want to converse with me, and the last thing I wanted to do was go down a rabbit hole toward setting myself up for hurt. For I was raw, having just encountered one of the worst experiences of my life. I needed to protect myself, and I had to do it quickly. I turned my eyes to meditate on the scenery outside, the green trees whipping by as I licked my wounds in accepting what felt like a very dismissive hint. I didn’t get it. All I was trying to do was strike up a bit of light conversation. No big deal. To just socialize in letting go of a day I truly wanted to put behind me, and to get the silent treatment was a glorious capstone to an absolutely terrible afternoon. I took a few quite breaths, calmed my reactionary self, and dismissed my desire for conversation, and as I did, Slava again looked at my reflection,

“A Russian song.” He turned his eyes back to the road.

The door was reopened, my emotions rekindled, and I just couldn’t let it go, I was simply too curious who this mysterious Slava was.

Readjusting my approach to a more direct path, “May I take your photograph?” I invited.

He summed me up under a withheld smile, but this time it was I looking at the reflection in the rear view mirror,

“Maybe!” He again fell silent.

Yet, there was one last icebreaker I felt I had to try. A question that I thought was as non-threatening as one could be. So I threw it. “What kind of Russian song?”

I did not get the response I expected. Slava stayed silent, shared no words, no body language showing any interest to converse, and post a final and brief stare at me through the rear view mirror, no engagement at all. He simply turned his eyes back to the road and resumed driving.

The sinking balloon dropped lower. Pushed down by what looked liked absolute disinterest on the part of Slava, it fell to the floor. Did I get too personal with my last question? Could I have somehow inadvertently opened a sensitive subject by inviting him to share more about his music?

Darker even, were the negative opinions that began to enter my mind. Stuff like, “What is his problem!”

The smell of jet fuel wafted into the car as the airport drew closer. Slava, with a now regular repetition of occasional rear view mirror checks of me, stayed resolute in his awkward silence as the airport exit sign came into view–my queue to begin preparing for an end to a very isolated commute. There were no words exchanged as I looked down to gather my bags and count a driver’s gratuity from the few dollars I had, all the while not realizing that Slava had taken a diversion away from the airport entrance and toward a dead end side street just prior to the roadway leading to the drop off for departing flights.

The area was clean and industrial. Easy to recognize that the buildings were new and the deep black asphalt hardly used. Row after row of large units with tall big-rig loading docks lined the street on both sides. All empty of any movement. Completely vacant, and most likely, never occupied. Each proof that the Recession was real; testaments of brick and mortar witnessing the aftermath of a harsh economic downturn.

Not fully knowing Slava’s reasoning for the detour or of his intentions, I became very aware, and with no view of other road traffic I tensed up. Growing incrementally uncomfortable as I postured to the front of the seat, my mind began to percolate. Was I about to receive a stern thrashing from Slava for asking too many bothering questions? After all, retribution might have been in order for sticking my nose into his business with my barrage of personal inquiries.

There was a growing lump in my throat as Slava stopped at the end of a deserted culdesac, shifted the vehicle into park, and turned off the engine.

Vulnerable was an understatement to how I felt as I inventoried my surroundings. The lump in my throat beginning to swell into a chokehold as I was totally out of my comfort zone, scoping all possible scenarios should things turn bad.

Do I grab my bags and run, or just sprint without them? If it gets physical, could I protect myself? Scenario after scenario flashed through my head, and with each downward spiral of my logic, my uneasiness and heart rate increased. It was ridiculous that with all the life experience I had, that I could feel so out of control. That I could let my imaginative self get the best of me by creating a portfolio of frightening outcomes to the moment that was at hand.

My chest was pounding and I was ready to react, when, at the height of my anxiety, Slava leaned over the front seat, turned his head and peered directly into my eyes, “Songs about friends. Shall we take a photo outside the car?” He smiled warmly.

My walls instantly fell. I felt embarrassed for so negatively assessing the character of a person I did not know. Regretful for drawing conclusions far too quickly about another person without due consideration; the mirror was again pointed at me and I was looking at myself, a little ashamed that, in a way, I had profiled Slava. Judged his silence and short responses as aggression. Dug my heals in the sand as to who he was before I knew who he was, and in doing, almost blocked an opportunity to better know a very good man. A man who, after posing for a few candid photographs, unexpectedly opened up to trust me with an intimate part of his life story. I was honored to say the least. Never in my life would I have, at first glance, realized the depth of this amazing well-intentioned human being.

Slava was a success story of the richest kind. Migrating with his wife and children from the Ukraine to the United States in 1989, he had settled into a life where family and kindness to others were first priority. A mechanical engineer by trade, he chose to leave his career and travel to a country where his children could build a better life. A life altering decision that exemplified his belief that humility and love of family are more important than vocation.

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At first he chauffeured as a means of income. A way to put his two sons through college, yet in it he found a new freedom that allowed him to meet, in his words, “…many interesting people.” Something that was foundation to Slava’s character and the reason why he chose to continue his life as a chauffeur. In getting to know him, I was blessed. My heart turned toward a man of wonderful charm and empathy toward the world around him. A person who walked with grace and respect that was impossible to ignore. It was with the greatest of compassion he accepted me, and it was obvious that his interest to know me was genuine.

In the end, the reasoning for his silence was reassuring. Basically this, he could see that I was troubled and he was concerned for me–the explanation for his endless scans of me through his rear view mirror. He further clarified that the traffic was very bad and he did not want to take his mind of the road, hence, the lack of conversation that I took very personally. Explained to me that he could not in good conscience drop me at the airport not knowing if I was OK–the motivation for his decision to stop at the only quite place he knew before entering the driveway to Philadelphia International—the deserted industrial area.

Slava taught me well that day as he graciously accepted my invitation to be photographed. Literally putting me on a path that would lead me to produce the hundreds of portraits and essays that I am now re-publishing in Sidewalk Ghosts. Stories that in first publication stimulated thousands of discussions that blossomed a point-of-view. Dialogues not solely conceived through my words and experiences mind you, but conversations founded on wisdom shared through hearing the stories of others. Outlooks derived from many brave and diverse individuals who trusted me at first glance to expose who they were as they gave a priceless gift: The freedom to see others, the self-control to forgive, and a greater understanding of the word “empathy.”

Philly is know as The City of Brotherly Love, and Slava was one of their greatest ambassadors. Although unknown to the masses, his voice chimed loudly through his very presence, and I was lucky enough to have met him. I was not seeking it, but in meeting Slava, I found myself in the presence of greatness. Not as the media and popular list of Who’s Who might presume. But rather, through the language of a very reserved man who possessed a plain and pure truth. Namely, the importance of caring about one another.

His last words to me, with a kindly shared handshake at my designated terminal, “I wish you a good life my friend.”

Talk Tomorrow My Good Friends,
Richard
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Sidewalk Ghosts / Levi– “What If We Pay More Attention?”

From the very beginning of my stranger meeting journey I promised to describe my feelings in one way or the other; so in continuing to honor the integrity of the commitment, I’ll stand by that pledge in this installment of Sidewalk Ghosts.

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June 27, 2012, stuck on traffic jammed highway 101, I was exasperated. Stressed, rushed, and fatigued as I commuted to a very important production meeting. Fully focused on presenting a portfolio of new work in referencing a project that I was producing, and even though Sidewalk Ghosts has grown my outlook towards the people around me in appreciating our differences, I have to say, on that day, after 292 consecutive days of interview strangers and publishing the experience, I was sad to admit, less than enthusiastic. Yet in looking back, it would be shallow to ignore not only the personal growth the experience had blessed me with; but more importantly, the impact I witnessed from how others had come together as they read my little campy stories and words shared by so many unique individuals.

It was 11:18am. Overwhelmed in holding back my road frustration as I zigzagged lanes in attempt to cut any minute I could. Words flying in and out of my head, that if not for a fun little dictation app, would have escaped me forever. Looking like a schizophrenic man debating with himself I quoted: “I have not yet meet my stranger-turned-friend for the day yet, and I have no idea what is in store for me. My meeting is at 2:00pm. We’ll see what happens.”

1:00pm. I finally arrived at my destination, the Pacific Design Center (PDC). Almost 2 hours from the time I hit 18 miles of bumper-to-bumper traffic, I had 60 minutes to settle for my meeting. Too early to check in, I sat in the lobby, and as per my stranger meeting custom dictated, and despite my earlier mentioned fatigue, I loosed my attitude and began to smile and nod at all who passed by.

As expected, most gestured back with a questioning curiosity, “Who is this guy? What does he want with me? He’s a creeper!”

No harm, no foul taken. After all, I was an absolute stranger and to be skeptical of the darkly dressed dude sitting in the center of a very open space was quite an acceptable human reaction. So I cast no judgment or took it personally. It was quite natural for people who did not know me. But one thing struck me funny as I compared my moments before isolated drive to the scarcity of those passing by me in the air-conditioned bliss of a wide-open public space. And in that contemplation, I calculated one common denominator: The invisible wall, that all too often, we place between the world around us and ourselves. It mattered not if it was in an automobile or on foot in an busy building. Of resonance was a lesson learned in the observation, namely, at too many times we are a divided people.

I had a little time to kill, so I did an experiment. Went to the building entryway and opened doors for others. Most were grateful of the gesture, but there were a few who scurried by, almost seeming frightened by my outreach. It wasn’t like I was pushing over their boundaries. I asked for no response and purposefully positioned my body language to be as non-threatening as possible. Just opened the door.

Now trust me, I’m not proposing that we naively drop our walls. There is good reason for them at many a time. Still, it made me question, “What if we all just trusted a little more?” Would we find new light in those we pass by, work, and live with, by becoming just a little more aware of each other.

Anyway, there I was, at the PDC, clock ticking down to meeting time. Most people avoiding me, when one person stood out as a person to interview: His name was Levi.

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“Make what you love. It is the best thing you can do for yourself,”
he summarized.

Continuing, “I think I can only speak for myself. My agenda is “me” first. Which is probably quite similar to the rest of the human race.”

Was Levi self-absorbed? Somehow, I don’t think so. Read on.

Yes, Levi spoke of me first, but the more I got to know him I quickly understood he was not caught up in egotism.

“I just feel like if I curate my life, and the people that I love, in the manner that I desire, my world is going to be a lot better and more enjoyable. But it is really important that in all the things that I do, that they are also good for other people. You know, we can only make a little change by ourselves. But, at least for the immediate influence for those around us, it can make somewhat of a difference.

“It’s like if people make smart cars. Only one person is going to own that car, so by buying it, they are really helping themselves by owning the car and are not hurting the rest of the people around them.

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“I’m a super on-the-fence type of deal. I don’t think there’s too many people that actually make an effort to teach things where a lot of other people learn, but it is a lead-by-example type deal for me, where if people start paying attention they might learn something.”

I think Levi taught me that day through his most eloquent example. On a day of rushed mind and heart, and in the middle of a world of moving people, he paused to share a most insightful and simple wisdom. His words rang in my ear, “What if people start paying more attention?”

Talk soon my friends,

Richard

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Sidewalk Ghosts / Jalon– The Barber of Men

“Try to find some kind of a spiritual crutch, so when people are not around you can rely on, you have somewhere to turn.”

 
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March 10, 2012 – It was 7:00pm on a Friday night, the streets full of people enjoying the evening as the aroma of limitless dining choices wafted in the air—a regular occurrence in Granada Hills at a weekly event I have labeled “Catering Truck Alley.” Four blocks of bumper-to-bumper mobile kitchens, with each toting the best-of-the-best in what sidewalk dining could offer. I’d been there several times, and every time I attended I enjoyed amazing food and the compelling company of a most diverse culture. An experience where folding chair and curbside sitting was in vogue as many rubbed shoulders over aluminum foil wrapped cuisine; and for me, a socializing spot to meet a stranger or two.
I arrived with, sadly admitted, expectations of quickly finding a stranger turned friend. You see, I was hungry for street food, and in choosing my location that night I thought I’d have no problem starting up a conversation. Yet as I walked, a dry feeling engulfed me, one that after almost an hour of rejection from all I approached, swayed me away from wanting to talk to anyone, let alone enjoy eating anything at all. I was even starting to feel bitter, wondering how unfairly people must have been profiling me. I had no malice, no hidden agenda, just a promise to publish their words for the world to hear; and all the while I was wandering, nagging at me was a pull I could not get out of my head. But my pride got the best of me. A downfall that blocked me from listening to what my intuition was telling me, “Go to the barber shop you passed on that side street where you parked your car,”reasoning with myself that I had committed to meeting someone on the boulevard.
It was close to 8pm. I’d aimlessly strolled up and down the boulevard for close to an hour, been called a name or two, looked throughby many, and assuming the frustration I was feeling in trying to force a friendship, I might have been carrying a chip on my shoulder for everyone to see. So finally listening to my first inspiration, I dropped my pride and walked through the doors of the pool-tabled shop of Barber/Entrepreneur Jalon.
I admit, after the, “Stay away from me you camera freak,”bashing I had gone through, I was apprehensive to interrupt anyone in their own space—especially as he was working with a few clients, but I was committed. The night was going fast and I had a story to post by midnight.
Forcing myself to calm my attitude, I introduced myself, and with no need for great detail I was instantly welcomed. Warmly invited into the circle as Jalon worked on what seemed like a couple of long time customers. What caught me off-guard was their sincere interest to know who I was, even more than wishing to blow they’re own horns.
My first impression was proven true as both guys had been going to Jalon for years. “He is the best in The San Fernando Valley,”one said. “No,”the other exclaimed, “he is the best barber in California.”
_L2R0046What made Jalon so good at his craft? In the words of his clients, “Precision, like Kobe!”
Yet there was more to Jalon than precision. His shop was a sanctuary of friendship as I quickly realized I was amidst what felt like friends hanging out in a living room conversation.
Jalon set the tone, and upon his answering my first question, I realized why.
That question: “If you had the stage and the whole world was undivided in listening, what would you say?”
 “This may sound cliché, but we should all follow the golden rule,”Jalon began as he worked an intricate cut on one of his clients. Better even, friend.
For all the years of my Sidewalk Ghosts project, I’ve heard many talk of the Golden Rule, yet this was the first time I had been in an environment that radiated its values.
The Golden Rule: A universal premise that has been expressed by just about every kind of person you can think of. So, in meeting Jalon I was inspired to do a deeper research on its origin:
From the scriptures of the Bahá’í Faith:
 “Blessed is he who preferreth his brother before himself. —Bahá’u’lláh
Beware lest ye harm any soul, or make any heart to sorrow; lest ye wound any man with your words, be he known to you or a stranger, be he friend or foe.” —`Abdu’l-Bahá
Buddha advises:
“Comparing oneself to others in such terms as, “Just as I am so are they, just as they are so am I,” he should neither kill nor cause others to kill.—Sutta Nipata 705
One who, while himself seeking happiness, oppresses with violence other beings who also desire happiness, will not attain happiness hereafter. —Dhammapada 10. Violence”
Christian ethics:
“Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” —Matthew 7:12
 “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself” —Leviticus 19:18
Judaism:
“You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your kinsfolk. Love your neighbor as yourself.” —Leviticus 19:18
“The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” —Leviticus 19:34
“’That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn. —Talmud, Shabbat 31a, the ‘Great Principle’”
Islam:
 “…and you should forgive and overlook: Do you not like God to forgive you? And Allah is The Merciful Forgiving.” —Qur’an(Surah 24, “The Light,” v. 22)”
“The most righteous person is the one who consents for other people what he consents for himself, and who dislikes for them what he dislikes for himself.”
Care of Wikipedia, here is a link to a much fuller set of interpretations of the rule. A rather enlightening read.
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Jalon was a man of compassion, who evidently held strong to The Golden Rule in the way he treated his clients… oh again, I mean friends…or maybe per The Golden Rule—“Neighbors.” Neighbors that through my unannounced visit had instantly called me friend.
Jalon finished the last haircut and even though quitting time from a long day had arrived, he graciously allowed me time to take a few photos. As I did, I challenged him to think of both the present and future of the world to come.
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For the present: “Try to find some kind of a spiritual crutch, so when people are not around you can rely on, you have somewhere to turn.”
For what’s ahead: “I don’t think we are heading to too much good. There is too much inflation, and the way things are going, it looks like the government will be running things. I’m not sure if I want to be there.”
Two very sobering outlooks given almost eight years ago, both of which we can choose either to bypass or do what we can to contribute to a better future.
Jalon called it a crutch. But, now in retrospect, maybe what he said can be interpreted as humble wisdom. A call to look at our near past in considering this time; even a prompt to fully examine a most eloquent council.
So wherever we work, whatever our stresses, challenges or cultures, shall we honor the advice of a most sincere entrepreneur. Ponder the age-old proverb he clearly demonstrated on a cold March night. For it was in his open hearted attitude and attention to familiar relationships, as well as a stranger like myself, that for a moment, I was pushed to reflect upon a most impactful insight for nurturing rewarding and productive human interaction: Simply, The Golden Rule.
Talk soon my friends,
Richard
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Sidewalk Ghosts / Interview 458: “Things You Love”

“Everybody needs to take it down a notch…” —Brandon

Sidewalk Ghosts / Interview 457: “Andrew… Thanks For Pulling Us Together"

“Stop competing with each other. Instead, try to build with each other…” —Andrew

The room is spinning left to right, up and down. Not the most comfortable way to begin the day, but none-the-less, the state I find myself in this blessed Sunday morning. No, I’m not suffering a hangover from a Saturday night binge of memory depriving consumption. Those are days long past for this conservative and alcohol-free father. But if you are in a spinning state, please do not feel as if I am not empathetic. I know how you feel, I’ve been there, done that.

Seem that writing is my distraction from the vertigo I’m experiencing this morning. The cause of my condition is a complete mystery to me. Perhaps it’s the late nights of 365 writing and editing. Maybe the pace and the passion for that has driven me to double-time all my efforts in supporting my family and managing my business while balancing it in growing our 365 community: All things that are core to who I am and key motivator to getting outside of myself. I know, “getting out of myself.” A statement that sounds a little suspect coming from a guy who is constantly writing articles and works in the fields of advertising, film making and communication.

Yes, I admit, I’ve been fortunate to find something that I enjoy and feel obsessed to do. But as in all things, a career in arts and communication can be easily viewed with rose-colored glasses. Although grateful, the ride has been a 30-year roller coaster of emotional and financial peaks and valleys, and like many of us, the daily question of what will tomorrow bring is ever-present. I’ve had my homeless days as well as my time of security: lessons that have brought me to this junction of my personal and professional life, and the understanding that at any moment, for any of us, life can change in the fraction of a second.

Why I write this entry is a mystery to me. Quite possibly it is the council of today’s friend, Andrew, as he challenges us to, “Build with each other.” Or, plausibly its offer of distraction away from the rotating room that is so apparent around me. Whatever it is, I’m here. Sharing with you what is in my head. Or better yet, floating from side to side in the off-centered Ferris wheel of my dizzied self.

Vertigo (as much of a pain-in-the-brain that you are), I thank you for getting me to the keypad. I hope as you read this entry that we are seeing each other as the fragile humans that we are all. We never know what is around the corner on any given day.

Over and over again we read, watch and listen to stories that the media and society place in our paths­—some uplifting, others tragic. We are endlessly bombarded with a barrage of viewpoints from just about every perspective imaginable. Do this or you’ll become that; be like us or you will be damned; you are wrong and I am right. The list goes on and on, and as we live our lives, we absorb. Our navigation becomes blurred and our intuition gets foggy.

Often I’m asked, “How do you find your perspective in writing?” A question that boggles my untrained literary mind. I don’t even consider myself a writer and I do my best to take zero ego credit for whatever spins off my fingertips (please excuse the vertigo induces spinning metaphor).

So how do I answer the query as to where I find my editorial jump off? Truly, I’m a little dry mouthed for an accurate response, but I’ll give it a shot. It is not of me or for me. It is of you and for you.

This, “We, the silent majority” thing that we so often speak of… is real. Every day I am reminded of the magnificence of human. This society that we are calling 365, it is alive, united and breathing. Each day I am uplifted as you visit our website, view our YouTube Channel and Like our Facebook. Every month I am inspired as I receive your subscriptions and comments, and to have had the opportunity to be the spokesperson for the 100s (getting close to 1000s) of amazing people who have opened they’re lives to us. I am humbled, appreciative and ready to facilitate all that I can. You are strangers no more. So I don’t write, I pay tribute; tribute to you, strangers that I am now proud to call friends.

Sure, maybe I’m a little codependent on Operation-365. Yes, it is an addiction. My family can testify to that point. They have been very patient with me, and us. 365 is a labor of passion and whatever speaks through it is there for one intention: To give us all stage for being heard by sharing who we are and what we have to contribute to the world.

With 3 years behind us, what I have learned (and I pray you as well) is that even in our diversity, there are many connecting dots. That is why I write, and that is what gets my fingers moving. Bottom line, without you I would have nothing to say.

Yes, I am happy to make my contribution and will continue to do so. Yet, in closing today’s post, I must expose a dream, one that radiates from the most sincere heart.

I need your help and I ask for your involvement. You are important and wonderfully unique. Without you, our society of the awakened would be extinguished. It is with open arms that I invite you to take part in expanding our awareness of each other. For this purpose we have created our online interview: Interview-365. Through it you have the ability to let your words of wisdom be heard. Please take a moment to share with us.

We are at a point of magnificent emergence as a vibrant culture. But, there is only so far I can personally travel to expand our mission of unity. My funds and time are limited and, as one man, I’m a little restricted as to how much I can sustainably contribute on a day-to-day basis. But with you on board, our depth and reach has infinite potential.

No matter where you are, your background or your circumstance… one absolute fact is impossible to ignore…“We are We,”equally human to the core. And that is the magic of Operation-365.

We look forward to hearing what you have to say!!

Talk soon my friends,

Richard

Sidewalk Ghosts / Interview 456: “A Better Version Of Yourself…”

“I think the biggest or the most important words I can find right now is just to be yourself, and try and wake up every day and become a better version of yourself…” —Moises

 

Sidewalk Ghosts / Interview 455: "The Power of One Is Remarkable" (a few faces of our YouTube trailer)

Hundred of people have we met through Operation-365. Years of meeting strangers (all of whom have become vicarious friends in growing us together), months of hearing your comments and days filled with challenges calling us to engage in the 365 experience.

The sum whole of what we are doing is ever-expanding as our awakening progresses, as one by one our subscription base (and better yet, the knowledge of others who embrace our cause) continues to expand into new borders.

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Yes, the world is shrinking as we grow our community; and although we are connected in a rather voyeuristic way, we are joining hands as a living and breathing society of the involved and aware. We are a population with no limits on what we can achieve in seeing each other for what we each have to offer. A statement that is not derived from the rumbling of my own brain, but more powerfully, one that can only be credited to true authors of what drives our thesis of unity. Mainly, the 100s of real people who have so graciously shared their real wisdom with us.

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In listening to these 1000s (and hopefully growing to become 10s of thousands) that have embraced our mission, we have joined hand in a call to action. Empowered. Uplifted. Dedicated the likes of an elite athlete. Our minds and spirits strengthened as we raise our chins towards our fellow humans in declaring… “You matter, and you have something unique to offer.”

Straight forward and to the point… Our work (no, our joy) at present, are in a state of infancy, yet our timing is perfect. For as we develop to our highest heights, we can be assured that in these modern times of Instagrammed texts, Twittered comments and YouTubed dialogues there is a tool greater than there net worth. That is, as we use them responsibly, that we make take pause to look into the eyes of each other. “And that, my friends, is indeed a beautiful thing.”

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For the last several days I’ve been in stranger meeting overdrive. Journeying, from sunrise to sunset, the 100-mile radius that surrounds my home. Many a rejection have I weathered and, happily, many an open conversation have I had. But, all in all, (as Operation-365 has proven over and over again) the majority of people are ready to be heard, and better yet, excited to listen.

No doubt, 365 is here to stay. My stubborn Taurus self keep pushing me into the ring of stewardship. A role that inspires me to do whatever I can to sail us forward to look at each other as human of great worth, and a motivation that is pushing me at breakneck momentum over the next few weeks to produce our first viral spot (the trailer for #O365blogumentary). One that I hope will do justice to the true contributors of Operation-366… you, (better yet, us… and we)… the silent majority.

You and I, everyday people living everyday lives… and absolutely, we have something to share!
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Sidewalk Ghosts / Interview 453: “Be Fearless… Be Bold”

“Do not follow the status quo…” —Roy

Sidewalk Ghosts / Interview 452: Ted’s Liberty

“Life’s too short… Don’t blink, you’ll miss it…” —Ted

Sidewalk Ghosts / Interview 451: “That’s The Way It Ought To Be”

“Nope, I just live by what I just told you…” —Hal

“How’s the essay coming?” she says, looking at me with a youthful, I’ve got it covered reassurance. Editing time for #O365blogumentry is 3 feet to my left and at the helm of episode 451 is Amalie, our guest editor for the day. Hailing from Denmark she is beginning her path to theatrical fame and today she is part guest, part collaborator, in Operation-365.
Calling today a speed run would be somewhat of an understatement in explaining the meeting of today’s stranger now friend. Here is a quick timeline of our account.
2:00pm: The question arises, where should we go?
2:01pm: I lean on all of my well-aged wisdom and reply an eloquent, “I have no idea.
2:15pm: Into the car to begin our search for new friends.
2:20pm: In traffic conversation commences… Topic, how strange it is that in a city of so many, how sad it is that we are so easily isolated through windshield glass. A place where the comforts of air-conditioning, the convenience of speed and the mindlessness of GPS has temptation to direct us away from each other; and even though we are surrounded by 100s of humans as we drive, even they are unaware of our presence. The sidewalks are full of stories, expressions and possibilities for interaction. But from a car saying hello to a pedestrian would scream of abduction. So other than the occasional get out of my way honk, we keep our eyes stared forward without the slightest gesture of unity towards any our foot propelled friends. Now, I’m not suggesting that we start a hello from the car campaign. I’m just making an observation to modern society and its affects on the old neighborly good day. That’s all, an observation. Yet in, there is a call to action. One that does affect our decisions in the way we pace our daily routines. I see in in my life and I’m sure you’ve felt the rush stress in yours. Bottom line, do we allow ourselves the time to slow for a moment. To take the proverbial challenge to, what is it they say, “to smell the roses, or enjoy the day.”
2:30pm: Endlessly drive, North, South, East, West… Boy to I dislike being trapped in a car.
2:35pm: Conversation is halted when both Amalie and I turn to each other. “Let’s talk to him,” the solitary man sunbathing in the park. It’s as if he reached out to us through his sun washed slumber to whisper, “I have something to share.”
2:36pm: Short of coming to a screeching halt, we find parking 100 or so yards from our UV radiated stranger.
2:38pm: Hal opens his eyes to our introduction, and with to the point warmth and kindness (and as he offers us water), he offers us his succinct words of wisdom.
4:23pm: I look back to my left, and as Amalie works on the last pass of editing, we realize the symbolism of today’s experience. It lies in Hals gesture of a weekday in the light of the park. The message is loud and clear. We’ll just let Hal explain it.
Talk soon my good friends,
Richard