Details and Impressions

Sometimes I forget just how important details can be when making an impression on someone.  One detail that nearly everyone in the business school knows about me at this point is that I have a selection of floral lapel pins in different colors.  Maybe not everyone could say offhandedly that “Kevin has 10 different colors” but just about everyone knows I wear them.  The pins and the colors are part of my identity.

So, when a colleague from the Office of Development and Alumni relations brought me a new pin to ask me to wear it for several weeks leading up to an event, it was no big deal to me to agree to wear it.  What was interesting was one detail forgotten and one detail noticed.

The pin said, Beet Week.  The detail I had forgotten was “what on earth is Beet Week?”  I was quickly reminded that it is a week being planned by our alumni relations team to emphasize the idea of philanthropy for our students who are graduating and will soon be alumni.  The reference to the root vegetable is because of a story related to the donor who gave the money to start the business school at Johns Hopkins (https://youtu.be/v_qiAR1Fz3w). 

The detail that I noticed was that the colors on the pin.  THe background of the pin was blue and the word week was in orange (blue and orange together are the Johns Hopkins Carey Business School colors) but the word beet was in white.  White is not a color I immediately think of when I think of beets.  I think of the red/purple of beets on a salad or pickled beets (sometimes along with pickled eggs).  I asked my colleague, “This word beet must be white to make us think of sugar beets?”  (See the story above.)  She was surprised but pleased that I had noticed that detail, and she commented that I was the only one who had noticed. 

I’ve known this colleague long enough and well enough that I didn’t necessarily need to worry about another positive impression. However, the two minute exchange was a great reminder of how much people appreciate details that are meaningful to them being noticed.  That appreciation can yield a stronger bond, more trust, and better collaboration.  That makes recognizing and pointing out details well worth the effort.

My Baltimore--An Essay

As I walked out of the glass exterior office building and onto the red brick promenade, I could not feel the blowing wind but I knew the direction from which whatever wind there was had to be blowing—the southeast.  The smell of burning sugar in the air gave it away.  The Domino Sugar plant across the harbor from the Harbor East Legg Mason building was burning sugar, and the light breeze was carrying the odor across the harbor.  Of course, to smell the burning sugar, the day had to be one on which the harbor itself was not highly odiferous.  The impact of old industry and weather on life in the new, glitzy part of the harbor is part of my Baltimore. 

My mind drifts to how I know the direction of the wind…

The reason I know the red brick promenade and the direction to the Domino’s plant as well as I do is not just the direct view of both from my office.  The knowledge of the city’s muscle and arteries comes from dozens, if not hundreds, of runs on the promenade with numerous training partners.  Running from Canton past new residential buildings, old slips, old piers, refurbished buildings in Fells Point, the glamour of Harbor East, the aging Inner Harbor, the condos on the south side, the old industry represented by Domino’s, the new industry represented by Under Armour, the row houses in Locust Point, and the history of Fort McHenry.  Some weeks I experience bits and pieces that I cobble together in my mind to sense the whole path.  Other weeks, late in marathon training, I experience the entire promenade and surrounding streets on one run of fourteen to twenty miles.  All the pieces of those runs are a part of my Baltimore.   

I have run not just the promenade—but also Patterson Park, Brewer’s Hill, Lake Montebello, Druid Hill, Charles Village, Bolton Hill, Lake Walker, Guilford, Homeland, Lauraville, Roland Park, Hampden, Federal Hill, Mount Vernon, and many other neighborhoods of the city.  Sometimes on my own.  Sometimes drawn by the many runners I have met.  Running many neighborhoods during four Baltimore Marathons.  Twice alone.  Twice, pacing partners the whole way.  One of those two I will always remember for carrying a banana for more than 10 miles around the streets of Baltimore and my partner tossing her old watch.  Another year I will remember my partner for making it through but requiring immediate attention when we finished.  Every run etches more of the city and my fellow runners into my permanent memory.  The runners and the neighborhoods that I run through day after day are part of my Baltimore.

Runners are amazing people.  I know some runners through a local running store’s training group.  Those runners were great, down to earth, accepting and encouraging of every kind of runner.  Just the type of positive spirit I like to provide and find for myself.  Just being present for each other.  But most runners I run with now are people in Back on My Feet, or people I have met through runners in Back on My Feet.  This organization brings together people from the community with residents of facilities that help people reintegrate into the community.  The organization uses running and contact with community members to supplement facilities’ programs aimed at ending addiction and homelessness.  The amazing program brings people together from across different education levels, different socioeconomic status, and different areas of the city.  Everyone involved wants to see everyone else have a chance to be all they are meant to be to make the city all that it can be.  That attitude is a part of my Baltimore.

Runners are not the only ones I know who come together to help others.  The city is full of people who work at not-for-profit organizations who want to help others and people who live in neighborhoods and have invested their lives in the city and want to make it a better place.  Of course, it is not just not-for-profit organizations and volunteers from neighborhoods who help improve the city.  Many educators, innovators, and entrepreneurs want to help others through training, building new ideas, inspiring leading citizens, and economic development.  Creating opportunities and wealth not just for themselves but to build and rebuild community in a proud and strong city.  These people and motivations are a part of my Baltimore.

And then there are the artists.  People who find ways to represent what is around them.  Through words, drama, song, and visual representations.  Bringing out their interpretations of the city and the world.  Sharing their interpretations with others.  Letting the world ponder those interpretations.  With every bit of emotion and caring, love and hate, support and indifference, that represent the real feelings of real people that need to be expressed for others to see and for the world to grapple with.  The arts are a part of my Baltimore.

My Baltimore includes occasional trips into parts of the city that are considered dangerous.  My only behavior reflecting the challenges of safety is making sure I run my training partners home and text them if I have to go more than a block to my car.  I have been in some of those areas plenty of times.  Sometimes driving.  Sometimes running. Sometimes alone. Often with others.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore in which I can experience much of the city.  I have no illusion that I know or am close to more than a small fraction of the people.  But I do have an interest in learning about as many people and as many ways of living and as many pressures on living as I possibly can.  Like it or not—all of these areas are a part of my Baltimore.

My Baltimore is a vibrant combination of young and old; locals and relocators; Black and white; American and immigrant; different religions; different occupations; different educations; different opinions; different socioeconomic statuses; old industry and new money; artists, attorneys and educators; trains, shipping, and cars; and so many other variables.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore of integrating all these.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore of connecting across these.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore of finding other connectors so that together we can bring all sorts of people together to make the city the best it can be.

My Baltimore is a Baltimore of hope for a better Baltimore.  A Baltimore of light.  A Baltimore of hellos.  A Baltimore of welcomes.  Most of all, a Baltimore of sensing what is there and asking, “How can I use what I know about what is going on to make things better for myself and others?”  And as long as I have the energy and motivation to ask that question, I can help to make Baltimore a better place for me, those around me, my children and their children.

My mind returns to the reality of the promenade outside my building…

And it occurs to me that my Baltimore has had burning sugar in the air since long before I was born and will likely continue to have burning sugar in the air long after I’m gone.  I am like just one grain of sugar in a five pound bag.  But when a recipe that uses sugar from the Domino’s plant calls for a specific amount, each granule matters.  My contribution to Baltimore is just one of many—but with all the others can make the Baltimore I experience available to many more.

Instinct

When I think my pup is slowing down,

Losing her spark,

And has less pep in her step,

It takes only one thing to get her

To look as speedy

And as nimble

As she has ever been.

Instinct!

As we trotted slowly this morning,

I saw a non-pet head bobbing at a corner

Ahead of us.

When we reached the corner,

My pup picked up the scent.

Then she picked up the pace.

And when the FOX was visible,

She took off at a sprint because of…

Instinct!

So, if I ever find myself

Doing work in which I am

Losing my spark

Or having less pep in my step,

I should return to my…

Instinct!

Connect, give, brighten others’ days.

Make lemonade out of lemons.

Realize that the lemons may actually be oranges.

Live by my INSTINCT

Rather than trying to live others expectations.

Simple Joys of March Poems

Small Joys of March – I

A little snow.

Giant flakes floating in the sky.

Lit by streetlights,

Gliding to the ground

In front of an old church.

It looks like a scene from a TV movie,

In which a couple would be walking along

Enjoying the wonder of mother nature

Together and sharing a brief kiss.

The snow is pretty.

And in the morning, the snow

Has covered the un-awakened grass

Like a thin blanket,

And sits in the trees where the branches meet

The trunk just like the instructor

In the acrylic painting class paints it every time.

And there is some snow on the tops

Of bushes resting like cottonballs.

But mostly there is no snow on the roads,

So what was pretty in the evening remains

Pretty in the morning,

And everyone is ready for spring. 

Small Joys of March – II

The first dog walk after work

In the evening after

Daylight savings time begins

Is always a joy.

Without rushing home from work,

I can eat dinner,

Take time to change,

And take the dog for a leisurely

Evening stroll

Without having to worry

That it will be dark

And chilly before we return home.

She stops to take in

The smells of almost spring

At almost every property.

As we walk the sky turns

From light blue to a dark blue

With a pinkish and orange hue

On the western horizon.

And we look for signs

Of budding flowers

But see none.

They will come.

As will spring.

And life will be renewed.