Inspiration

Having an international airport 50 miles from your place of work allows for good “think-“ or “talk-time” when you’re making the trip.  I picked up Maya Angelou mid-morning and we were due back for a lunch by noon. What a warm, gracious and soft spoken lady she was. She didn’t know me at all but immediately after we connected, we were talking like old friends. When people of her stature are as interested in you as they are in themselves, it’s a pleasant and special encounter.

I found out early on that when you are open and vocal about your concerns with the way a non-profit organization is being run, it’s not too long before you’re more involved.  The Distinguished Visitor Series was an incredible opportunity to bring luminaries to a small mid-western town with a big reputation, like Columbus, Indiana. After attending a couple of the evenings in the Series, I wrote a long letter about how I thought the experience could be improved. Before I knew it, I was president of DVS and regularly making the trip to the airport to spend a day or two with amazing people like Maya Angelou.

She had a luncheon with local VIP’s, stops at two schools to speak with students, dinner with business executives and then a presentation to the public in the evening.  The transitions were flawless. She seemed to be able to speak everyone’s language. Her understanding of the business world and politics was uncanny and when meeting with students, they were rapt with her words and the poems she chose to share.

It was at one of the schools that she gave me that pearl of advice that I have carried with me since that time.  We were talking about speaking to the children and how she felt that we don’t give them enough credit for how much they understand. That conversation turned to writing and she said, “I never use big words. They confuse us all. If a third-grader understands what we write then our point is much better made.” It’s hard to disagree with that.

In her evening presentation, she read extensively from “I know why the caged bird sings”, which was the first of several autobiographies that she wrote during her life.  In summing up that night, she said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said; people will forget what you did; but they will never forget how you made them feel.” I wrote that in the reporter’s notebook that I always carry and have never forgotten it.

The drive back to the airport the next morning was fun. We covered a lot of subjects. When I asked her if she watched much television, she said, “I do watch re-runs of “Star Trek”. Nichelle Nichols, who played Lt. Uhura, is a good friend.  Watching her makes me feel comfortable and happy.” We parted as friends with a handful of experiences in common.

I recently added an evening with our latest inaugural poet Richard Blanco, at the Seattle Public Library, to those personally inspiring moments in my life. But Maya Angelou, also an inaugural poet, was my first, and that, for me, is a cherished memory that will always hold a special spot in my heart. She was an incredible person and a devout American. Her passing leaves a void but her words will be with us forever. Such a legacy in this world is unrivaled. Rest in peace, Maya.

Memorial Day and then some...

We must never forget the reason for Memorial Day. It’s a remembrance of all those who have died in military service for our country. The day itself is the last of a three-day weekend that has several meanings. It’s the unofficial end of winter and the beginning of the summer season. It’s a celebration of family with picnics and barbecues, water skiing, sailboat racing, softball and more.

There’s one other part of of the Memorial Day weekend that came back to me this year, during my travels.  I like to cruise bookstores if I’m without a meeting or a client dinner when I’m on the road.  On one such evening, I came across a book called “Moments in Time”. Mostly a picture book from the archives of Time Magazine (thank goodness it’s hard copy weekly is still hanging in there), it revisits many of the significant benchmarks of the last century.

Hardly a book where I expected to find a photo of yours truly. But as I leafed through it, there was a picture that gave me the same jolt I felt when the incident occurred. It was Memorial Day weekend at what is known as the “Greatest Spectacle in Racing”, The Indianapolis 500. With my folks being from Indiana, no matter where my military father was stationed, we came back many times for Memorial Day to go to the big race. And it is indeed a spectacle.

The only rivals for "the 500" in the world of auto racing are the Monaco Grand Prix and 24 Hours at LeMans. The three make up auto racing’s triple crown and only one person, Britain’s Graham Hill, has won all three events. Over 300,000 enthusiasts go to the race and over a million show up in the month of May to witness the prep and qualifying.

Like any large scale event, "the 500" has its nuances. There’s Carb Day with carburetion testing to watch (all about those engines). Then there is qualifications when the field of 33 cars is selected.  The 500 Festival just before the big race has many special events sprinkled through the early part of May.  The race itself is over in the blink of an eye today. With average speeds over 200 miles per hour, in little more than two hours, it’s history.

If you have "Hoosier" roots, as I do, "the 500" is as familiar to you as high school basketball. Highlights for me were when my father was the chairman of the 500 Festival (local hero returns and all that). And then when I worked for diesel engine maker Cummins Engine Company, I was selected to head up the Mechanics Banquet that recognized the masters who keep the cars running at peak performance for 500 miles. Cummins has a history of placing diesel engines in race cars, even winning the pole position (first car in the first row). Never been done again.I still have my 500 Committee blazer...it no long fits...but there's always hope.

The race can be viewed from many vantage points and I’ve been able to sample most of them over the years.  I’ve seen it from the finish line grandstands, from the suite boxes, from the pits and “gasoline alley” where the mechanics do their magic and even from the pace car that starts the race with my father, which was an unbelievable rush.

But there’s one more place to watch the race that actually prompted this story.  The infield is where the people are. Somewhere between 50 and 100,000 fans pay a fraction of the cost of a track ticket (infield is $40 these days) to get glimpses of the race and have the ultimate tailgate party.  The infield opens the night before. There’s a sprint to find your viewing spot and then the drinking begins.

Turn 3 (there are 4 on the 2.5-mile track) is lovingly called “the Snake Pit”. You get a clear view of the race down the back straightaway, the fight around the turns and the beginning of the sprint to the finish line. While visiting one spring, a group of my public school cronies decided to make the trek to the Speedway and I joined them. One of the father’s had a plumbing business and we took his panel truck with a flat roof which made a great viewing platform.

We set up in Turn 3 and noticed a huge scaffold where they were selling sitting room for $5 or $10. It looked pretty crowded when we got there. They kept adding more and more spectators until it was a buzzing swarm of humanity.  The final estimate was 125 people on the 30-foot-high structure.

When the race started, the cars were coming out of the straightaway into the turn, when it looked as if everyone on that scaffold had leaned forward to watch at the same time. Very slowly, the whole structure collapsed. To us, it seemed like slow motion. And then the screaming began.

You can clearly see the four of us on the roof of the truck at the right side of the Time photo. I’m the one sitting in the folding chair. We spent the next couple of hours helping pull people out of the mess. Two were killed when the scaffold fell on top of them and over 80 were injured.  I had never witnessed such tragedy in my young life. A description of the injuries we witnessed would be just too gruesome. When I saw this photo in the book, it brought it all back in an instant. That disaster is far from my fondest memory of the Indianapolis 500 but it’s indelible.

Scaffolds were banned after that and the race goes on. It’s still a spectacle and, with speeds being what they are today, the race is over here on the west coast before brunch. Still I’ll turn on the television this weekend to hear all those assembled sing “Back Home Again In Indiana” and then check to see if David Letterman is in the crowd (he’s a car owner). I don't follow closely enough now to have favorites, although I wish Danica Patrick hadn't dropped the 500 from her schedule. It was great when she held the pole position and a win would have been fantastic.

Whether or not you watch "the 500", I hope you enjoy the Memorial Day weekend with family and friends. And take a moment to remember those who have fought and died to give us this privilege. It's important.