Many of you have been kind enough to email me and ask, “What’s up? How come no more blog postings?” I was very flattered to get messages like that, and to know that someone actually reads what I write. I never started down the “blog path” for the benefit of any readers, but to write for me–whenever I felt like it. But, that being said, I’m pleased to know that there is an audience, albeit small, for my musings. In fact, I am honored that anyone else cares.

The short answer is that I have had a lot on my mind, lately–both personal and professional– things that I didn’t want the whole world to see. (The blog isn’t for everything, ya’ know). But, I will try to post my musings on a more regular basis from now on. So, stay tuned! Heeeeeeeeeeeeees back!

On this coming Saturday evening, I have the great honor of introducing my good friend, former Illinois Senator Adlai E. Stevenson III as the 2005 commencement speaker for the Chicago School of Professional Psychology, where I am privileged to serve as a trustee. I spent a great deal of time writing my introductory comments. He is a wonderful man, and a good friend. And, I want to honor him with my words.

I hope that it goes well.

When I worked for the real estate consulting firm many years ago, the chairman of the board of the firm and I went to the offices of a major corporation located near Chicago, for the purpose of negotiating some real estate matters, on behalf of one of our clients. The gentleman, who was negotiating on the other side, was the director of real estate for this particular corporation. This gentleman was a quadriplegic, and used a motorized wheel chair to move about the office.

After a meeting or two with this particular person, I came to the conclusion the he was extremely bitter about his condition (maybe, rightfully so), and was set to take out his bitterness on the world. He was not a nice man, I surmised. This did not particularly bother me, since “being nice” is not a typically good negotiating stance, at least not in this circumstance. What bothered me was his mean spiritedness and his seeming hostility toward the everyone in general.

We had all the facts on our side (I learned very quickly as a young man to be very, very thoroughly prepared for negotiations like this), and pinned down this man on several key points during the negotiating session. The facts–and the logic of our argument– were winning the day, when, all of a sudden, this man slumps in his wheel chair, takes a sip of coffee through a straw from a cup on a tray on his wheel chair, and lets the coffee drool down the side of his mouth.

The message was clear: How could you do this to a person like me? Look at you. You can walk and move your arms. Now, look at me, and how pathetic I am. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?

Well, the tone in the negotiating room changed dramatically. (We weren’t the only three people in the room. Both sides had an accompanying retinue of staff). The conclusion was: his tactic worked. He probably got more than he should have, based strictly on the merits of the situation.

After we were finished with the session, and were walking down the hall, I turned to the chairman of the board of our firm and said, “Dammit! I’m furious. He shouldn’t have done that. He took unfair advantage of us.” The chairman replied, “Why are you so angry, Paul. He’s a very smart man. He knew that he couldn’t win the argument based on logic and the facts. So, he resorted to what he had. He used what he had. And, it worked.”

Then, he said to me, “Don’t we all use what we have–the talents that we have–in our lives?”

Of course we do. A penetrating insight into the obvious (except to this dumb Irish “mick”). Each of us has different talents. And, we all use them to get the job done, both at work, and in life.

The real tragedy, I have always thought, was for people who have real talent (unlike the author of this blog), and are too lazy to use it at all, particularly for the benefit of others. That, I believe, is the most grievous of sins.

A few million words have been written about the life and death of Pope John Paul II. So, I guess a few more won’t hurt. Whatever faith you are (or, even if you have no faith at all), you will have to admit that John Paul was a good and holy man. He certainly did much more than his immediate predecessors to bring all faiths closer together. And, I suspect that, years from now, we will learn that he had more to do with the fall of communism than the world could ever imagine. Undeniably, he was a charming and charismatic man, particularly in his younger years in the papacy.

It was both heart-wrenching and heartening at the same time to watch him suffer so in his last days–heart-wrenching to see him struggling under such duress (I remember watching my father fighting to cling to the last moments of his life on a respirator, before his poor, old tired heart finally gave out on Valentine’s Day,1994)–and heartening to see him persevering to the very end, affirming the sanctity and dignity of human life. I was reminded of the words of that great American comedian, Milton Berle, who reportedly said, “Life is like a street fight. The problem is, most people give up too easily.” (I happen to believe that is true).

I remember listening to Walter Mondale’s eulogy for Hubert Humphrey, at Humphrey’s funeral. Mondale said of Humphrey, “He taught us how to live–and, he taught us how to die.”

I think that the same thing can be said of John Paul II. The new guy sure has some big shoes to fill.

This is my blog where I will be posting random thoughts on occasion. Use it to comment, if you wish. Your thoughtful contributions will be greatly appreciated.

Warmly–

Paul A. Dillon