December 2015 – The Turning Points of Life

What Do You Want To Do In This Company?

It was early 1966 and I was fresh off my field service assignment at Orange and Rockland Utilities in upstate New York. I was now assigned to a desk in the Service Department at Foster Wheeler’s corporate headquarters in Livingston, New Jersey. I approached the official end of my nine month training program working on some mundane tasks consisting of filing final reports from my previous work assignment.

I wondered what I would be doing in the company after the official training program came to its conclusion. Mr. Bill Stevens had elevated me to Senior Service Engineer status a few months before while I was at Orange and Rockland Utilities, but I did not know what that would mean now that I was back in the office.

I availed myself of this time in the office to talk to some of the service engineers I had come to know during my travels. I queried them about the work areas they moved to after their time in the Service Department ended to see if anything they were doing interested me.

William “Bill” Stevens

Suddenly, one day without warning Mr. Stevens, the senior vice president, walked into my office.

He said, “Hi Allan, please come with me.”

I left following Bill toward the main corridor. My feelings were a mixture of fear and concern. I had no idea what he wanted and wondered if I had somehow made some serious mistake.

Walking together down the corridor together, Bill suddenly stopped, turned to me and said, “Allan, you are too valuable to this company to be working where you are now, what do you want to do in this company?”

I stood there for what seemed to me to be minutes, not knowing what to say with no preparation or expectation for this moment.

I blurted out, “I’m not sure, but if I were your son where would you want me to be?”

Surprised at my answer and wondering from whence it came, I looked up and heard him say, “Come with me. The Nuclear Department is the future of this company. That’s where I want you to be.”

We continued down the corridor and into the Nuclear Department manager’s office.

Bill announced, “Jack, meet Allan, your new engineer.”

Bill turned and left. I stood there facing Jack. Later I discovered Jack was just as surprised as me. Jack appeared to be somewhat stunned, but quickly collected himself, shook my hand and bid me to follow him to my new office.

Jack introduced me around to the other engineers and secretaries in the department. I retrieved my files and other belongings from the Service Department, bid my friends there adieu and settled in my new office.

A week or so later, Jack took me to lunch. As we sat at our table he asked, “Do you know how you got this job in my department?”

I said, “Not really, I just was asked by Bill what I wanted to do and he brought me to your office.”

“Well,” Jack replied, “You got shoved down my throat! And I am glad you did! I interviewed numerous engineers these last weeks for the opening and rejected them all. I am thankful you are on our team.”

My career took off in this department resulting in gaining a patent on a unique sodium heated steam generator along with our team members.

Eventually I earned an MBA in management that led to my assignment in San Diego, California in mid-1970.

Turning Point

Those few seconds of dialogue that featured my spontaneous response, “If I were you son where would you want me to be?” was a major turning point for me. I can’t take credit for that statement, as it came out of me without thought or preparation. I can only acknowledge God’s hand, word and inspiration that put those words in my mouth and gave the impulse to speak it.

My Art Teacher’s Lesson

Great turning points in my life occurred during my four years in high school. There I was blessed with some extraordinary teachers. I planned to attend college after my high school graduation to earn a degree in engineering. Consequently, I enrolled in what was termed “College Preparatory Course”. This curriculum required a heavy dose of science and mathematics classes and intense English classes. I shared this curriculum of courses with other students headed to college. When I entered college, I found that I had received an education equal to or better than my fellow college students who attended expensive prep schools.

The intense nature of the College Prep curriculum left little room for anything else, specifically interesting elective courses. However, I was somehow able to sneak in a year of art with Ms. Marie Sauer. From my earliest years, I loved art. I made all the Disney characters in colored construction paper and hung them from a wire coat hanger creating a mobile. Colored construction paper became the medium for creating my book report covers. I also sculpted characters from the movies, specifically horror movies like Frankenstein and Dracula. My passion for art since childhood motivated me to seize a place in Ms. Marie Sauer’s art class when as an elective it became available to me.

Ms. Sauer’s encouraging words to me as my art projects were being created were just one of the many attributes of her teaching style. I especially appreciated her positive way of helping me overcome my fear of tackling a project I deemed beyond my talent and capability.

A case in point was my reticence at tackling a drawing project in the medium of charcoal. In her classroom was a sculpture of the bust of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln was a hero of mine, so I wanted to somehow produce a piece of artwork using that sculpture. Ms. Sauer’s challenge to me was to shine a light on the bust from a certain angle, then draw the resulting image in charcoal. My initial reluctance to use charcoal for this project was overcome with the urging and encouragement of Ms. Sauer’s convincing counsel. The result was to hang in my library to this day.

Abraham Lincoln Bust in Charcoal (1958)

After I graduated from college, I was on an assignment in Las Vegas, Nevada that required daily trips into the desert. On the way to my work destination I saw signs for a Nevada State Park called the Valley of Fire. On one of the few days I had off of work, I journeyed through this amazing natural wonder. The colors of the natural creation gave credence to the name for it surely seemed to be ablaze with fire.

Valley of Fire – Nevada State Park

This experience planted a seed in me, a certain image burned into my memory. That seed came to life when I enrolled in graduate school some months later. Each night when I came home late after classes, I was too wound up to get to sleep. I needed something to help me to relax. My solution was to make an oil painting of the image that the Valley of Fire inspired in me months before.
I purchased a canvas and mounted it on a wooden frame. Thus began what would be a project that spanned more than two years.

I started the project by sketching the image I had in my mind onto the canvas. I imaged a bush on fire as I walked through the Valley of Fire State Park that day in the summer of 1965. Now, I worked to put this image onto the canvas. I purchased oil paints in the colors I knew I needed to achieve the color effects the painting required.

My concept for the painting was to create an image comprised of triangles. Each triangle would be painted a solid color. No two triangles of the same color were to touch each other save for at a point of an adjoining triangle. There would be three basic elements of the painting. The first was the ground on which the bush was growing. The second was the bush itself. The third was the fire and its resultant glow as it encompassed the bush. I hoped to produce in the mind of the viewer of the final piece a sense of a bush growing on a hill ablaze with a fire whose essence was exploding outward like the sun. I also used the shapes of the triangles to combine with the colors to give the visual effect I tried to achieve. Larger and bolder triangles were used for the ground and narrow triangles were used for the roots and branches of the bush. The fire triangles were also elongated to give the bursting effect I wanted to portray.

With this in mind I began by painting the ground, a “ground-up” sort of plan, probably based on my engineering thinking. This project soon became a greater challenge than I first imagined. Abiding by the rules I established, I had to create forty seven different shades of brown to join the color black. What made this particularly difficult was the fact that I needed to reserve lighter shades of brown for the branches and roots of the bush and the varied shades of brown the bush would required.

Each night I set to work a new shade of brown was mixed on my pallet until the ground was completed. Once the ground was completed I began to work on the bush. This required a variety of lighter shades of brown to distinguish it from the ground and produce the effect I needed to enable the viewer to see the bush, its branches and roots.

When the bush was completed, I tackled the bursting effect of the fire encompassing the bush. I accomplished this effect by blending the colors of the triangles from bright yellows nearest the bush to dark reds at the periphery of the painting. The shpe of the triangles enhanced this effect.

All this painting of triangles necessitated painting most of it with a paint brush with only a few hairs. This was required to paint the sharp points of the triangles. Again, the challenge with this area of the painting was to create a large number of shades of yellows, oranges and reds to achieve the effect desired without violating the established rules.

The painting was created over the two and half years of my MBA graduate studies. Each night upon returning home from classes, except for the months I was courting my wife, I spent an hour or so painting three to five triangles at a time. I created a shade of a particular color, then with that color triangles were added to the canvas. It was a long and tedious project but it gave me peace and prepared me for a good night of rest.

I have called the resulting oil painting my masterpiece. It is the image of Moses’ Burning Bush from the Bible. I often told visitors to our home gazing at my painting to “take off your shoes as you are standing on hallowed ground” inspiring them to say, “Ah! It’s Moses’ burning bush!”

The Burning Bush of Moses (1967-1970)

After my master piece was completed I continued to exercise my passion and joy for art. I have explored a number of various forms, working with hook rug art, photography, and wood work. But what I found to be most interesting was the way God used my passion and interest in art as a means to open opportunities for me to be a blessing for someone I met along my path of life.

Turning Points

Ms. Sauer challenged me to explore my limits and develop my talents in the arts. That was a turning point for me. It was not only relative to my art and creativity self-esteem, it also applied in my life generally. We all have God-given talents. Each of these talents have a purpose that may be hidden from our realization for years only to be resurrected at just the right time to allow us to employ them to be a blessing for someone.

The consequence of this turning point relative to my art talents was my personal joy in expressing these talents through art in many forms. Whether we see the beauty of art in the Creation and its wonders or in the art created via the talents of others, appreciating art in all its varied forms adds immeasurably to our lives.

The Bird’s Funeral

As our son Randy was growing up, we taught him to pray at meal times. I would pray and then he would pray. We prayed not only offering thanksgiving for the food but also asking for a blessing upon it followed by a plea for those we knew who faced some difficult situations. On Sundays and Wednesday evenings Randy accompanied us to church where I served as a lay minister. He witnessed me serving and experienced our family serving others. When visitors came to our church services, we had them come to our home for a meal and conversation. So this story about Randy was not a real surprise to us considering his being raised in a home where a culture of serving others existed.

An only child, Randy found it necessary to make friends with all the children in the neighborhood. He mastered the art of building friendships evidenced by the respect his friends showed him. They saw Randy was their leader. Often when we came home from a brief trip, a half a dozen or more youngsters were sitting on the curb in front of our house waiting for Randy to return. He was the one to lead them on their daily adventures. He was very successful at it because they all kept coming back for more.

One Saturday morning I went out into our backyard prior to our planned shopping trip. I discovered a dead bird lying on the patio floor just below our large picture window. The bird had apparently flown into the window and broke its neck. Not wanting to delay our departure, I didn’t mention my discovery to Randy until we got home.
Returning later that morning from our shopping, I parked our car into the driveway. When we exited the car we were greeted with a united chorus from the assembled crowd of children at the curb, “Can Randy come out to play?”
With the news of the dead bird, Randy rounded up his friends and immediately made a bee line for the back yard patio.

Carol and I emptied the car of the morning purchases and I promptly left again as I had another errand to run. I didn’t discover what happened with the deceased bird until I returned home a few hours later. Then Carol told me the rest of the story as she filled me in on what transpired.

When Randy and his friends found the dead bird, he immediately hatched a plan. Randy asked his mother if she had a small box. As it turned out we had a small rectangular wooden box from a block of cheese we had previously purchased. Carol was saving it for some undefined use, so she thought this was as good a use as any.

Randy now needed some linen and cotton to line the box. Carol supplied these by giving him an old handkerchief of mine and some cotton balls. Randy organized a team effort with his friends to fashion a coffin from these materials. They lined the box with the handkerchief and cushioned it with the cotton.

Once finished, the bird was gently laid in the makeshift casket. They placed the open casket in Randy’s little red wagon. The lid to the box was laid next to it. Randy now asked the girls to pick some flowers from the garden to decorate the casket and wagon. A potpourri of flowers was laid in the wagon surrounding the casket. The funeral procession was now ready to begin.

The entourage of mourners marched around the neighborhood in single file. Randy pulled the wagon with the line of children following in single file, all heads bowed in serious sadness and silent dirge. For the neighbors, it must have been quite a sight with the parade of solemn little four to six year old children following a red wagon filled with flowers surrounding an open casket.

After circuiting the neighborhood the procession returned to our backyard. Randy retrieved a small shovel from our shed and found a place in Carol’s flower garden to dig the grave. The dirt in our yard was not conducive to easy digging as it was made mostly of clay and rocks with only a six inch covering of topsoil. Randy began earnestly to dig, but once he hit the clay, the effort to dig deeper became significantly difficult. When he got to about twelve inches deep it got so difficult Randy was prompted to consult with his mother once again.

“Mom,” he said, “does the grave really have to be six feet deep?”

Carol replied, “Randy, for the bird it only has to be twelve inches deep.”

Dilemma solved, the grave was now ready to receive its occupant. But one more thing needed to be done. Randy asked his mother for the family Bible.

The funeral scene was now fully prepared and ready. Randy, holding the Bible in his hands, presented to the assembled congregation of friends a brief funeral sermon and eulogy for the bird. After a short but heartfelt prayer, he placed the lid on the box and secured it. Gently laying the casket into the grave, the children took turns throwing dirt into the grave.

With the grave covered and strewn with flowers, the kids went out to the front of the house to continue their play.

Soon Randy’s friend Tommy came home. He was out with his parents and missed the whole funeral and burial experience. All of Randy’s pals excitedly told Tommy in great detail the funeral they had for the dead bird. Filled with shock and disappointment, Tommy immediately began to cry and sob uncontrollably. He stood shaking with tears flowing down his cheeks. It was just too much to have missed for this six year old lad.

Randy couldn’t bear to see his good friend Tommy so distraught. He put his arm around Tommy and calmly assured him, “Don’t cry Tommy, we’ll do the funeral all over again!”

So out came the wagon and shovel and the bird’s casket was carefully exhumed. Placed in the wagon with the flowers the process in its entirety was repeated for Tommy’s benefit. That little bird was blessed with not one but two funerals!

Turning Points

What touched me about this experience was Randy’s compassion and sensitivity to Tommy’s feelings. His immediate resolution of the situation was impressive. He obviously learned a lot of details from witnessing funerals that I had conducted. Randy’s love of animals prompted him to provide a dignified burial for this dead stranger that lost its life in our yard. Randy’s character, his sensitivity to the feelings of others, knowing he could make a difference, and respecting life of the animals he loved would serve him well throughout his life.

A turning point for me was a deeper realization that how parents live and act has a powerful and effective influence on the character of their children. As the old adage states, “actions speak louder than words.” A parent may not realize it at the moment, but their conduct is a significant factor in the life of their children.

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico – Randy’s First Dorado

When Carol and I planned our vacation for the summer of 1985 we decided to spend the first week in Puerto Vallarta and the second week in Cancun. We had been vacationing for the previous four years in Cancun and I wanted to introduce Randy to fishing for Dorado. One of the attractions for choosing Puerto Vallarta as our destination was its location on the Pacific coast of Mexico and their year round Dorado fishing season.

After weeks of preparation, the Saturday of our trip dawned. Our carry-on baggage and fishing gear was loaded into a friend’s car and off to Tijuana airport we went. For the first time we were flying Mexican airlines for this trip.

When we arrived at the airport we bid goodbye to our friend and got on line for check-in. We waited patiently amidst the other travelers comprised of a diverse mixture of native Mexicans and American tourists. The time for the flight came and went. Everyone wondered what happened as to why none of us were processed for checked in. Soon we learned that the flight was cancelled and the next flight to Puerto Vallarta would be Sunday at eight in the morning.

With no other choice but to return home till the next morning, we rented a car and went back home for the night.

I didn’t trust the information we got, so I set the alarm for five in the morning.

At the sound of the alarm, I roused Carol and Randy, repacked the rental car and headed back to the Tijuana airport. With little traffic that early on a Sunday morning, we made it to the airport in a little more than half an hour.

I returned the car and we walked into the airport lugging our six carry-on bags at a quarter to six. A man wearing what appeared to be an official airline uniform asked if we were going to Puerto Vallarta.

I replied, “Yes.”

Somewhat agitated, he told us to hurry and run as he pointed the way.

“Run to the gate! Your plane leaves in ten minutes,” he said.

We raced down the corridor to the gate, handed over our tickets and scrambled onto the plane. We were surprised to find three seats together and room for all our carry-on bags near the front of the plane. I was thankful for my thoughts the night before that got us up so early because the original time we were given for the flight was two hours later. I wondered about all our fellow travelers from the day before and what they would find when they returned to the airport at eight that morning. Would they miss yet another flight?

As soon as we were seated, the door was closed and we were advised to buckle up and get ready for take-off. Finally we were on our way to Puerto Vallarta, a little stressed but thankful we made the flight on time.

As soon as we were airborne, my thoughts returned to anticipating the two weeks of vacation ahead of us. The flight was uneventful and we arrived early morning in Puerto Vallarta. A taxi ferried us to our resort where we checked in. We went to our room and quickly unpacked. Once we donned our bathing suits we immediately took advantage of the beautiful hot humid weather at the resort. We spent the first half hour exploring the grounds and amenities together as a family. It didn’t take long for Randy to ask me to accompany him in his quest to find a fishing spot.

While Carol found a comfortable lounge chair at the pool, Randy and I set out to explore the area in search for fishing opportunities. We soon found that the main marina was just a short walk from the resort. The marina offered Randy ample space to fish from the docks, but he was not going to catch any Dorado there. It was going to take a hired boat to reach the fishing grounds that would yield the fighting Dorado.

One of the most sought after saltwater fish that avid fishermen hope to catch at least once in their life is the Dolphin fish, also known as Mahi-Mahi and Dorado. The attraction to this fish aside from its vivid colors and unusual shape is its extraordinary fight. Mahi-Mahi means ‘Very Strong” in Hawaiian. The name is apropos because it’s a voracious fighter when hooked in spite of its size. Dorado will break water leaping, thrashing and dancing six feet above the surface of the water. The battle experienced by the angler is exciting and thrilling especially for a young boy. Randy being an avid fisherman, I wanted him to experience the thrill of catching a Dorado.

We returned to the resort where Randy gathered his fishing gear and off we went back to the marina. This became Randy’s daily venture walking the few short blocks from our resort to the boat marina. There he fished till he had to come back for lunch and dinner.

Each day I joined Randy at the marina. I left Carol to sunbathe at the beach or pool. On the second day, I walked down the dock and found some fishing boats for charter. I inquired as to the cost of a fishing trip into the Pacific specifically for Dorado. I was told it was $300 for the day. This was a little outside our budget so I was quite disappointed. I hoped that maybe something would present itself to allow Randy to get his shot at landing a Dorado.

Later that day a man strolled down the docks with his two boys. He stopped and asked me if I knew where he could charter a fishing boat. He too wanted to take his two boys out for a day of fishing. I directed him to the people who gave me the $300 quote. Soon he returned, and offered up a plan to take the boys out fishing and split the cost of the charter. I agreed and we set a date for the following morning.

The next morning the five of us arrived at the marina. We agreed that the boys would do all the fishing. The older of the two boys was Randy’s age and the two immediately got acquainted. The younger lad was a bit shy, but soon the three of them were talking fishing with an air of excited anticipation in their voices.

After the deckhands completed their preparations we left the dock and headed out to sea. After about forty-five minutes we were in the ocean. The swells caused the boat to rock considerably. The rocking of the boat as it negotiated the swells did not affect Randy since he had a lot of experience with ocean fishing. But apparently the other boys were not used to this and promptly became sea sick. They found a place where they could lay down in obvious misery.

The boat slowed down to trolling speed and the deckhand began to bait the hooks on two trolling rigs. Once the rigs were in the water, the real waiting began. We agreed before we left the dock that the boys would rotate taking in the catch. The older of the two boys would take the first hook-up, Randy the second and the youngest boy the third.

A few minutes into the initial troll there was a hook-up. But the older boy was too sick so Randy took the fighting chair as the deckhand handed him the rod. Randy caught the first fish. It was a real fighter, like nothing Randy had ever landed before. It jumped and danced on the water, flailing and flashing its brilliant green and blue colors in the sunlight. The deckhand kept near Randy, coaching him to keep the line taut.

Each time Randy was able to reel in a few yards of line, the fish would break water and pull out more line against the drag of the reel. Back and forth went the battle between Randy and the fighting Dorado. As he fought against the powerful fish, I got my camera and caught Randy’s thrill and excitement beaming from his face.

After Randy landed that first fish, the deckhand once more baited the lines and began the troll again. Each time there was a hook-up the other two boys were given a chance to bring one in, but time after time they were so sea sick they relinquished their turn to Randy. They were just too miserable to take the rod. So Randy caught the second, third and fourth fish.

After a while there was another hook-up and they were giving the rod to Randy again when he went over and encouraged the older boy to take it instead. Reluctantly he got up and hopped in the chair and fought the fish till it was landed. That was the only fish he caught all day. The younger boy was just too sick, so after Randy landed a another Dorado, we headed back to the docks early.

It was thrilling watching Randy’s sheer delight fighting the Dorado. More importantly was the sense of pride I felt for Randy as I watched him encouraging the other boy to fight through his misery and experience the thrill of landing this fighting fish.

Turning Points

This experience revealed a number of turning points. Firstly, I felt bound by a financial limitation. The appearance of a stranger with a financial solution taught me that sometimes our perceived obstacles are merely “obstacle illusions”. Solutions can be just “around the corner”. I acknowledge and am grateful that God brought that stranger to our rescue and made the experience possible.

Secondly, Randy revealed how boldly acting on one’s compassion for others can bring that someone a hoped for joy that appeared to be impossible. Sacrifice for others is a part of our character that enhances our own experiences as well as that of others. Randy’s active compassion for his new found friends surely touched them as it did Randy and me.