Why sirens sound like hope

by Guest on November 20, 2009

in Culture, ideas & paradigms

I’m not sure how Dave found my blog, but he was one of my early devoted readers. I could count on him to regularly chime in with something thought-provoking—something that made me look at what I was trying to say in a different way, whether it be about parenting, faith, or just the challenge of finding our way in the world.

In addition to his loves for writing and photography, Dave is an engineer and a dad of four kids, which means he’s super busy and spends much of his time in the kitchen and at the elementary school. Dave also told me, though, that one of his favorite Love List items is “sitting on the early morning porch with a chill in the air, coffee in the mug, and an open journal.” Considering how thoughtful he is, I’m not surprised he makes time to process his thoughts. Please welcome Dave to Halfway to Normal and be sure to check out his blog Orange Shirt Guy.

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About four years ago, an engineering friend told me that she and her son journaled their “Top 5″ things each day. I think that may have been their whole journal’s contents—gratitude for simple, normal things that each of us can find each day. A few months ago, I saw Kristin’s Love List concept and immediately connected and saw the value of a love list. To me—the male engineer who had been doing Top 5 lists for years—I saw the value in objectifying those things that I really like, those things that give (good) chills. Simply, my love list makes it easier to know the things that are somewhere near the core of my being.

As an example, some of my non-tweeted love list items include listening to evening crickets, looking at photos and recalling their memories, reading a good book, and the huge communication that comes via non-verbal communication.

And so, as I reflect on even just this partial list, I hear it [God?] telling me, “Dave. Slow down. Everything doesn’t need a solution right away. Things don’t always require analysis. Aren’t crickets amazing?”

For me, that is the beauty of my love list. It is not necessarily an item to keep score of how much love is present around me, it is a tool wielded by me to make my life better.

Here’s an example—a reflection I wrote after making an addition to my love list.

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I heard the siren—we all did.

I slowed and pulled to the side so that my right tires were now on the grass. As my younger three kids turned to find the firetruck, my eldest asked why I was pulling over.

It was then that I got that feeling—that stomach falling, mouth opening, air being forced from my lungs, eyes watering, and the tugging at my brain and my heart feeling.

Back about thirty years ago, I was watching M*A*S*H with my dad. The opening credits were playing and the nurses—the brunette with hips and the others just behind her—were running to the helicopter pad. The corpsmen were running up the stairs. The doctor was looking down at the soldier with the helicopter blades rotating overhead.

I looked at my dad—his eyes were watering and his brow was tightened a bit. I, the eleven year old, asked him why he was tearing up. What was wrong?

He answered that he was always touched by the people that were racing to save lives, to help people they didn’t know.

Skip forward thirty years.

“I love that people pull over for ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars.” That was the love list tweet that started this whole post.

It is another objective tool in my love list tool box. This tool lets me know why I tear up when I explain to my daughter about people rescuing animals in New Orleans, when I see a guy (not a dad, just a guy) catching a kid from falling back on the escalator, or when we (yep each of us) pull over when we hear sirens. I tear up because . . .

It proves to me that people care about neighbors—known and unknown. It says to me that each and every time we pull over for flashing lights and sirens, we figuratively kneel on the shoulder of the road, and a part of us—even some little, tiny, insignificant part of us, says “Godspeed Paramedic. We care about that person. Do your best.”

I love that . . . and I get why I love it because of my love list.

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  • http://www.starxlr8.com Jennifer

    I recently moved back to the giant warm embrace of the Midwest after 20 years away – 20 years of seeing people in DC, LA and Houston NOT pull over for sirens. I sometimes feel silly after saying for the millionth time that I enjoy the change of pace – but its not just my pace that is slowed, its that in certain parts of the country, everyone feels compelled to slow down for what’s important. I don’t think its a coincidence that less urban areas are filled with more hope and people of a spiritual inclination.

  • http://sugarjones.tv Sugar Jones

    I am inspired by your Love List! I can’t wait to sit quietly somewhere and fall in love again.

  • http://www.ordinarymer.com Meredith

    Dave – what a great, thoughtful post! I have to say, I never really thought about why I pulled over for ambulances, fire trucks, etc. I just always did it because that’s what I was taught to do and because I knew it was the right thing to do. It’s pretty incredible and a bit humbling to make the connection to the larger issue of subconsciously caring about other people.

    The more I think about it, the more I think the sirens are also telling us to “slow down” – literally and figuratively. Slow down, take the time to let others go before you and find pleasure in the simple things in life. Like, as you mentioned, the crickets.

  • http://theparentingpractice.blogspot.com/ Nancy (CoachNancyP on twitter)

    First of all, I want to say I agree with Kristin. Dave is a personal friend of mine, and he is so generous with his time to post his deep thought-provoking comments on others’ blogs. We bloggers appreciate comments, and knowing that people have not only read, but taken time to share their thoughts on the pieces we put our hearts into.

    That being said, I am happy to have the opportunity to share back with you, Dave. You write so well. You put us back in time with your father, and on the road with you and your kiddos. You also remind us of that what we do and say as parents makes a difference. Little did your dad know that a display of emotion watching a MASH episode would spread such a beautiful message not only to his grandchildren, but to many others as well.

    Very nice!

  • http://www.orangeshirtguy.com Dave Thurston

    Jennifer – “giant warm embrace” – that is great. When I lived in LA, it was easy for me to notice that the majority of my friends were from the midwest. I think you’re on to something with the size of the city being inversely proportional to the narrowing of one’s focus. Maybe Thoreau was on to something with his cabin.

    Sugar Jones – Oh, do it! Make that list. Although I think you’ll find items 1 – 19 on your list to be true and accurate, I’ll bet that after about the twentieth item, you’ll dig past the surface waters and you’ll be floored by the vastness below. I hope that you make time to do the list (I hope everyone gives it a chance).

    Meredith, you know, I snuck a peak at Kirstin’s website while at work on Friday. I was both humbled and awed by the power of simple written words – I even wrote myself a note to be able to recall how your comment impacted me. “It’s pretty incredible and a bit humbling to make the connection to the larger issue of subconsciously caring about other people.” I quite like that sentence of yours.

    Nancy, I love how you made the connection between my dad and my kids – that connection was in a first draft of this post, but it just didn’t flow well – so the I removed it in the final draft. Glad that you made it again (my dad would have liked that too). And you bring home one of the cornerstones of parenting – those little ears and eyes are always recording, always processing.

    Kirstin, Thanks much for the opportunity for the guest post. I too wish that I could remember how I found your blog – I’m happy that I did. You’ve created a great community via your written words and I am grateful that I’ve been able to be a part of it. Your ideas, thoughts and community are positively changing the world. Keep it up.

  • http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/ Kristin T.

    Dave, thanks so much for writing this post. One of the things I appreciate about the Love List Project is its flexibility—it works in different ways for different people. As you pointed out, for analytical problem-solvers like you (and I guess I should include myself in that category, even though I’m not an engineer), our lists help us let go and simply revel in what *is*; for those who know they aren’t happy with how their life is but they have a hard time focusing enough to make concrete changes, the Love List can become a catalyst for something new. The lists somehow affirm exactly who we are while helping balance our extremes. Pretty amazing, eh? I’m so glad you’ve experienced that, too, and I hope Sugar and others start making their lists!

  • Carmen

    What a great thing to share! This post gives me hope about humanity. I live in New York, where people do actually look out for each other, but only when someone is in extreme need. There’s no way they can look out for each other in small ways all the time, it would simply be impossible. Ambulances seem like a bother and there’s no space to pull over to. This post is a nice reminder that simple gestures have real meaning.

  • http://www.orangeshirtguy.com Dave Thurston

    Carmen, I felt the same way when I lived in NY. The people that had my back, really had it. But sometimes, others . . . not so much. Oh and I like your comment that “simple gestures have real meaning.” Something that I recently wrote in my journal had to do with acts of love vs. actions of love – similar, but actions implies (to me) the small things (picking up socks, putting the remote back in the right place, etc.) are at least as important as the bigger acts of love (buying roses, etc.).