There is a sense of urgency today.  In about everything we do.  I’m not sure if urgency is a result of being overwhelmed, or that we are overwhelmed because everything is urgent! Like you, days are filled with tasks that must be accomplished.  Today.  Every day.  

Monday… After a weekend of both mental and physical work, the song by Mark Chestnutt “It Sure Is Monday” could have been my soundtrack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBBq_1Yvu5Y.  Leading a major project with three authentic rocket scientists from our two companies, I found myself driving from theoretical to practical, finding a path forward to the unknown.  A customer wants new! novel! relatable! unique! understandable! factual! statistical! data.  Is there a way to measure the performance of a product that somehow checks all these boxes?  Two hours later, there is hope.  Hope springs eternal, they say.  For us, hope means hard work.  Driving home, you hope that you did everything you could.  And you know there is always something else you might have tried.  Sandy The Little White Dog had hope too.  She hoped that I would be there for her, after a day by herself.  So we walked and talked.  I talk to Sandy a lot.  She seems to listen.  But you never know.  There is always so much to smell.  Along the way, my new ham radio crackled to life with words from the ether!  The communications were mundane, yet exciting as they came from a place I’d never visited.  The words were bracketed with call signs [like KO4JCF kilo oscar 4 juliet charlie foxtrot] and lingo that is new to me, but part of a community of millions around the world.  I could hear people making plans to meet at Windy Hill Golf parking lot, for a social gathering of hams.  Could I make it?  No.  But later than evening, I listened to my first “NET” communication.  Nearly a dozen hams gathered around a repeater at 146.880 MHz, sharing life.  I tried to join in, but no one seemed to hear.  CB radio this isn’t!  The Net ended, and I felt a bit of disappointment.  But, also a sense of progress towards a goal.

Tuesday… You remember the hope we had from Monday?  It all seemed so possible Monday.  A lunch at Mexico Restaurant in Ashland brought the rocket scientist together with the engineers, and a search of the nearby corporate warehouse for equipment to measure “new! novel! relatable!” performance led us to a dark and forboding corner.  It was a place you might expect to find ROUS…you know, rodents of unusual size (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nv9CkjkOyzo) There, in the far corner, was the equipment needed to measure a critical vehicle component performance.  Well, it was part of the equipment.  Around the corner was a shelf with another bit of techno-wizardry.  And look!  Up on the to shelf is the FTIR gizmo that identifies the emissions.  The core drill needed to create the test sample?  Gone.  It was strangely sad, where equipment that was working fine only six years ago was now six months from being anywhere close to measuring “new! novel! relatable!” performance.  If it could be put together.  “Time and tide wait for no man,” offered Geoffrey Chaucer some five hundred years ago.  But at least after a day of science I could help a friend with something physical.  Tink The Truck, our 1995 Ford F150 was perfectly suited to move a trundle bed from Glen Allen to Wentbridge Road.

The loading of the bed in Glen Allen and the delivery to north Richmond was like a trip back in time (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNWYvHHU1U8).  From 2010 to the 1950s, the F150 took a modern trundle bed to a charming brick Cape Cod home where my friend lives.  We didn’t need the DeLorean, but it was nice to see the 1950s home bringing joy to her.  Moving a couple of items into the attic, I could see the roof boards.  Not plywood!  Actual boards, rough hewn, with gaps between them, affixed to simple trusses.  The edges weren’t square, the finish was rough, and you could see in the irregularity that real craftsmen built the home.  Driving home, in the mist, the F150 bounced along I-64 back to the present.  I think Tink would just as soon have stayed in the 50s.

Wednesday… what does the poem say about Wednesday’s child?  Full of woe.  I think I was feeling a bit woeful.  I’ve been working on a project for months to bring colleagues to a new way of linking formulation and test info, and giving up what felt so natural and comfortable.  Change is hard, as you know.  Change that you initiate is easier to accept, and when someone brings you a new way of doing things you’ve been doing it is only natural to resist that change.  Wednesday was the day of final preparations for a department meeting to share the new way, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would be revered or reviled for bringing people a new way.  It is hard to fine tune a few Powerpoint slides, coordinate who is speaking to which slides, and wonder if the pitchforks and torches will come out.  Wednesday was St Patrick’s Day, and a day I had originally slated for a performance in a Celtic band at a local Irish pub.  A few weeks ago, it became clear that a fiddler I am not, and so on this night, I felt a bit woeful.  Performing in the band was hard, filled witih daily pressure to learn tunes and the Celtic fiddling style, and I am glad to completed the trial where I could realize my meager talent is solely as a violinist.  Being fired from a band is never enjoyable. Even so, it was great to sit down to a home-cooked meal with green and white shamrock-shaped cheese-filled pasta over wilted spinach, while Apple Music played original Irish tunes.

Thursday… a blur of meetings, presentations, and a discussion about the future … all urgent .. all back to back to back .. a few minutes to enjoy a sandwich, yet even in those private minutes more requests for information.  Another presentation for another VP…were we on track?  are we doing what we said?  when will the future arrive?  It seems that the higher people get in any company, the more questions they have.  I wish that at some point I would get to ask them questions.  Thursday’s urgency lasted all day, and ended late with a flurry of Powerpoint slides to satisfy yet another meeting with a VP and all the Directors.  I didn’t need that at 4 pm.  Thankfully I got to share an hour with friends from church that evening, as we talked about how we have handled the pandemic, and how we are serving our church.  www.hopechurchrva.com is a great place for this team.  We’re doing things that are important and unseen by most.  We’re doing things that only we can do.  We’re doing things that no one wants to do.  And we’re doing things together.  Men need that sense of togetherness.  It’s not that we need togetherness, itself.  We need the task and the team.  One can’t be accomplished without the other.  One can’t exist without the other.  The task defines the team, and the team handles the task.  If you asked this group to get together on a regular basis?  To be together?  What are you talking about?  I got stuff to do!  But, if you ask this group to tackle the task…let’s get together.  Let’s figure it out.  How can we …not I … do this?  It was a great end to a frantic day.

Friday… the urgency at work subsides, finally.  The list remains long, but the lingering effects of the week demand a day where work and home intersect as I worked from home.  The quiet of my home office was broken only by the irregular steps of Sandy The Little White Dog, as she hobbled from place to place.  Her left hip appears to be giving pain and it is hard to watch her move.  Eight years ago, that hip was injured in rough play between Craz-E and little Sandy, and she has the genetic predisposition to hip dysplaysia as well.

I had to carry her down the stairs once.  Aging is such a challenge, even for dogs.  Doctor Mom will no doubt find a solution, but all I could do was command “Shields up!” to my emotions of the fear of her future.  Sandy did entertain a contractor who might be able to install a whole house generator.  It’s March.  The earliest he can install a generator is September.  Six months?  But I may need power, urgently!  It turns out that generators are now about as in demand as deck boards and contractors.  No one has boards, and you can’t find anyone to install them.  No one can predict when the generators will arrive.  And, there is no guarantee that an order placed will be honored by the suppliers.  Everyone is producing generators as urgently as possible.  But no one can purchase them.  We live in a strange time.

Saturday… the morning darkness meant I was up before dawn, to enjoy a run with friends.  Leading the run, I had to be there a bit early, as I wanted to drive the route I had chosen only by online mapping to become familiar with it.  Before I knew it, though, I was running late.  The darkness had turned to dawn, and the sun glared at me through the windshield as I hurriedly headed east to Pony Pasture https://jamesriverpark.org/project/pony-pasture-rapids/ .  More urgency!  I circled the neighborhood above the park to learn the route, then bounced through the gravel strewn parking lot to meet the early runners.  Our trio went out and up a continuous one-mile hill climb, then descended back down to the lot past the gazillion dollar homes on Hill Drive.  A few more friends arrived for the 8:00 am jog, and we headed out along Riverside Drive amongst dozens of walkers, runners, and bikers.  It was 30 F, but bright and sunny.  Soon the group spread out based on our individual running pace, and I found myself alone.  I’ve been on that jog two dozen times, but this morning, it felt different.  Instead of conversations with friends, I could only look around me.  To the left I saw the massive granite slabs on which the expensive homes were built, rising quickly from the floodplain of the James River.  The flowing river rushed over the Z-Dam (https://goo.gl/maps/vGFXBN9PCPr8cQMF6) with sunlight glistening on the water.  The huge rocks reminded me that at times, I just need to be still.  The river showed me that a steady pace was important, a pace I could sustain.  After four miles or so, the group enjoyed coffee at the nearby Starbucks, and before I knew it the morning was half over.

Later that day, I fitted some footpeg lowering blocks and engine protection bars to my BMW K1600GT motorcycle.  These tasks I had put off for some time, as they weren’t urgent.  The first day of spring signaled that I needed to get these mounted, though.  Thankfully the empty garage gave me room to work, and in a few hours the work was complete.

Good thing it didn’t take too long, as we had dinner with friends at 6:30 pm.  As I rushed there, the lessons of the morning faded.  Once there, the restaurant reminded me that urgent action is not always necessary, as we waited twenty minutes for our table.  Casa del Tarde, I think it might be renamed.

Sunday … a day of rest?  That’s what the Bible says.  But at the church, there is always work to do.  We live in times where church security is necessary, sadly, and I kept watch in the lobby during both 9:30 am and 11:00 am services.  Once again, I found myself hurrying to church to be there on time.  And of course, in that haste I left something I needed at home.  Nothing vitally important, but still that urgency created in me an unwelcome feeling.  Later, Lynn and I slowed down to meander around the James River again, this time on the hiking trails downtown.  We walked from Ethyl down to Tredegar, across the Tyler Potterfield bridge, up the stairs to the high trail, westward to the spiral staircase down, then back east towards the bridge to Brown’s Island.  Meandering was all we could do, with the hundreds if not thousands of people there for recreation.  Three miles later, we were ready for the ride home in Tink the Truck.

As the week begins, I hope the lessons of the past week take hold.  I hope I can recognize when urgency brings unwelcome concern and chaos.  I hope I can remember the peace I felt jogging by the river, hiking on the trails, and getting long-awaited tasks finished.  Instead of rushing to get everything done, maybe I can thoughtfully eliminate activities and commitments that bring tension and travail. It won’t be easy, but I think it will be worth it.