Everybody Loves Bob

Every week day a group of us meet for breakfast. We share the latest news, a few laughs and connect on issues that are of common interest. There are times when we do not share the same viewpoint and agree to disagree. What a joy to take time with friends who have much in common, link on that comfort level, but now and then scatter afar, take time to listen, shake up ones comfort zone and part for the week with perhaps a glimmer of a new awareness.

That is the power of the group after all. Years ago, longer than I care to admit, I began several groups during my professional career. The first one involved six to twelve year olds. I was a school counselor working in a suburban school in the Twin Cities. Each day different students stopped in my office to unburden themselves. For the most part their issues involved separated or split families. Within a few weeks I heard the same story repeated from different perspectives and ages, but with similar feelings, frustrations and concerns.

"How would you like to share your time with another student who faces some of the same problems as you relate to me?"

Surprise, surprise, each student I approached meeting with other kids with some of the same issues, jumped at the chance. No hesitation, "Oh, yes. I would like that," was the response and within a week's time I had a group of ten children from first to sixth grades, crunched in a circle on my office floor, sharing, crying, laughing and supporting one another. The comfort from discovering they were not alone was powerful, to say the least. The supportive feelings swirled around that small office and followed them down the stairs and back to their classroom and then to their homes.

The students who wanted to join that group swelled beyond what the room could contain. Within a month or two I divided the groups into grades from first through six. There was something lost with older and younger sharing the same woes, but the power of the group dynamics still continued.

Later I started parent groups, first the mothers who wanted their husbands to have a similar experience, then the men's group. Those groups continued long after my transfer to another school.

There was always a magic in all of the groups. There was a power of the many over the one, lone individual facing demons on his/her own. For me, as the counselor, their was the ability to reach more clients than on a one to one.

Today in our small breakfast group I was sharing something about some people who were angry with me over something or other I don't even recall right now. I can get rather in-your-face when I am passionate about an issue, and have earned resentment by some.

"Well, they aren't angry with Bob, are they?"

Bob was quietly eating the breakfast special and made no response.

"Everybody loves Bob," came from one voice in the group.

Oh, yeah, how true! My steadfast husband rarely sees a need for confrontation. He lives his life, true to his values. He never preaches, tries to convert or make a scene. He simply is who he is. He is one of the most grounded persons I have ever known. He is my rock and example. Some teach, some preach. Others try to convert. Bob lives his life. No wonder my friend believes that everyone loves Bob.

I am not sure about everyone, but I am very sure about me.

Trying Teamwork

"That's my spot." Those familiar with the TV show The Big Bang Theory recognize those words.

Going further back to the school yard: "I go first." "No way." "Choose me." "I won't play with you." "I'm the leader." "My way is the best." "You cheated." "Not fair." "I'm boss."

Later in the classroom: "Teacher, look at my paper. Do you like what I did?" "Will I get picked?" "It was my turn." "I was pushed." "I want the credit." "Look at me, look at me." "Me, me, me."

At times I believe not much has changed. As adults we protest if we don't get our way. We may choose to fight back, opt for compromise, say nothing or leave the group. In the daily struggle to lead, say our piece, have our way, we often lose the focus of why we are part of the group. Why did we join in the first place? What was the goal of the group? Can we be satisfied with taking a lower place or not having our idea being accepted? Can we accept a middle ground?

My guess is that ego or insecurity are often involved (the hallmark of the bullies)...or maybe we just get weary of the battle. Some stay in the game, others choose to leave. At times a smaller sect evolves. Teamwork is difficult at best, even in a group as small as a marriage.  It means keeping one's eyes on the final goals.

In the end, each must decide whether it is worth the effort, or at this time in one's life it may be best for all if we just go home, read a magazine, knit a shawl, write a book or work a crossword.

There may be more than one way to save the world.

Little Sir Echo

There is something to be said for solitude and contemplation. There is also a great deal to be said for group camaraderie and support. When I sit on the bench along our Freedom Trail and listen to the water rushing over the rocks, the birds singing in the trees, I close my eyes and feel my surroundings and, eventually, my heart and soul. For me, nature and solitude are my simplest connection to peace and resolution.

I also find another type of reflection when I work out by myself in the pool. I do my aerobics, often to songs. The time slips by effortlessly as I sing my body into action. I do notice the absence of the group when I cannot manage to join them. During my alone times I may experience more serenity and speculations, but there is the missing piece....when I sing "Little Sir Echo" there is no response from my classmates. I answer myself...."hello, hello," but it isn't the same as an energetic group of exercisers responding "hello, hello."

I guess what I realize is that solitary time needs to be complemented by social time. Otherwise there is no one to answer an echo in our lives.