The Rainbow Woman

I traveled from Burbank to San Diego for Thanksgiving this year to spend time with family members, some of whom I haven't seen in over two decades.  And it was a lovely time.  I'm very blessed with a multitude of family members spread across the country.

But I didn't want to drive, so I took the train...Amtrak...which I've never done before.

I've taken the local Metro line in and around Los Angeles, but I never journeyed a lengthy distance on a train.

And I always wanted to - so I did and, of course, the trip proved enlightening.

In more ways than one.

The trip up on Wednesday was nice.  I sat with a family of three.  A mother and father and their young soccer-loving daughter who, in a recent game, had injured her left thumb, which needed stitches.  So she was wearing a cast.  We all talked about a lot of topics, and the four-hour time frame passed quickly.

But it was on the Friday trip back to Burbank that entranced me.

It was raining that day, and I wasn't too crazy about that.  I didn't want the water to dampen the joyful spirit that increased during my family visit.  So, I prayed for a nice ride home.

I had contacted a friend earlier in the week to see if she could pick me up at the train station in Burbank and she agreed.  But I soon realized on the train ride home that I wouldn't need to trouble her.

My train from San Diego to Burbank was set to leave at Noon, but I arrived early at the station, around 11:00 AM.

That was okay.  I connected with a nice woman in line and she clued me in on train departures, and a little history of the area in the process.

Noon arrived, and we boarded the train.  The woman, an older sort, invited me to join her on the first level of the train, marked for seniors and the disabled.  "You could pass," she said.  "You have gray hair."

I laughed a little at that...very little...but told her I felt uncomfortable with sitting in an area which was meant for the disabled.  So, I trekked up to the train's second level.  "You should sit on the left side," the older woman told me.  "That way, you can see the ocean on the way back to Burbank."

I nodded, but when I arrived on the second level, I opted instead for the right side of the train.  I know what the ocean looks like, and I wanted to see the more interesting options on the right side, mostly the different stations along the way....Santa Ana...Anaheim....Fullerton, etc.  They all reminded me of Mayberry from "The Andy Griffith Show," so that all suit me just fine.

I had also prayed that Heaven would seat me next to someone that would make the time pass, like it had on the trip up to San Diego.

Ultimately, the train on both levels was not as full as had it had been the Wednesday before.  That was okay, I figured.  "I'll just sleep all the way."

Never happened.

Within a half-hour, I had found a new friend.  The rain had stopped, and a rainbow had appeared...where else...but to the left of the train.

A woman, who appeared to be from India, was seated in front of me.  No one was beside me.  She turned to me and commented about the rainbow.  "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said.

I nodded a little and thought to myself, "But - really - where do rainbows come from?  I mean...REALLY come from?"

As if the woman heard my silent thoughts she turned once more to me and said, "Do you know where rainbows come from?"

Shocked at her seemingly reading my mind, I said a simple "No."

She then said something about Noah's Ark from the Bible and I just smiled.

A few minutes later, she showed me a book about a little boy who saw rainbows in Heaven.

I couldn't believe it.

A few minutes later she asked me if I wanted anything from the train's café.  I told her, "No, thank you."  But she insisted that she bring me something.  "My treat!" she said. 

"Ok," I replied.  "I'll just take a bottled water."

She returned with my water and a sandwich for herself.  No one was seated next to her, and since she was so kind and generous, I did not want her to eat her sandwich alone, so I invited her to sit next to me to better enjoy her meal.

As we talked, she shared with me many charming stories of her life in India.  One story, about a rainy day from her childhood, stood-out.

She was walking home from school, carrying many books.  She loved to read and she loved books very much.  And it started to rain very hard.  So, she prayed, "Dear Lord - please keep my books dry.  Please don't rain on my books."

And as she walked, she said, her path was free from rain.  It rained around her, behind her, in front of her and to the sides.  But it did not rain on her.  When she arrived home, her mother was prepared with blanket to dry her off.  But there was no need.  "My Lord kept me dry," she said.

Charmed, we continued to talk, and within the next hour or so, she learned that I was a writer.  She also decided to pray over my right arm, as I pulled a muscle a few weeks back during the move to my new apartment.

By the time we arrived in Burbank, she had convinced me not to call my friend for a ride home.  "MY friend will take you home," she said.

And her friend did so.  Her friend also happened to be a dentist - and I am looking for a new dentist in the area, as my previous dentist has his office in my former residence of Cerritos.

So, my new friend, and her friend the Burbank dentist, dropped me right to my door.  I was quite grateful for all their kindness, and promised them each a copy of my new book.

The next day, I took a walk to the local pharmacy to get some aspirin for my shoulder, which by then, had been feeling better.  But I still felt an occasional, if slight, pain.

As I walked from my apartment door to the CVS, I stopped a few times...as I usually do during any walk...to notice this or that.  And by the time I arrived at the pharmacy...a white car drove right in front me.

I wondered, "Could it be?"

It was the same white car belonging to the Burbank dentist, and in a second, my friend, the India woman, who I affectionately now refer to as "The Rainbow Woman," stepped from the vehicle and into the pharmacy.

"Hey!" I smiled to them both.  "But do you believe this?"

We all smiled, and chatted a little bit.  I left telling my potential new dentist that I will see her soon.

My Rainbow Woman said she would call me.

How could it be, indeed, that I would see these two wonderful new friends at the pharmacy I walked into only the day after they dropped me off train station?

What timing brought us together - and why?

For the learning of where rainbows come from?  For the healing of my arm?  For the companionship home on the train?  For me to have found a much-needed new dentist?  For the reminder that Heaven always rides and walks with us wherever we go?

Most likely, all of the "Above."

For it was then I remembered another story The Rainbow Woman had told me while we were still on the train from San Diego.  But it wasn't a story from when she was just a child.  It was her recounting of a conversation she had with Heaven before she boarded the train.

"Lord," she said she had prayed, "please seat me next do someone I could bear witness to."

I then shared with her that I had prayed the same prayer.

"I'm from Paris"

"I'm from Paris."

That's what I tell people, now...because it sounds cool, but mostly because it's pretty funny.

Bottom line:

Take your work seriously.

Take your life seriously.

But never take yourself seriously.

My 4:30 AM "Calling" at the Biltmore Hotel

It all started at 4:30 AM, about thirty years ago, at the Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles.

My contracted 18 months as a Page for NBC had ended, and I began working weekends and periodic weekdays at the Biltmore as a Gold Room Butler for the then-exclusive 9th Floor Executive Suites.   It was the type of work I performed as a Bellman for the Marriott Hotel back in Rochester, New York, years before I moved to L.A. and went to work for NBC.

While at the Biltmore, I was also cast as one of the waiters at Duke's Restaurant on ABC's General Hospital, and served as an extra or "atmosphere player" on other daytime soaps like CBS's The Bold and the Beautiful.

Working as a "real" butler on the weekends at the Biltmore while working as a fake waiter at Duke's on General Hospital was awesome, confusing and comical, all at the same time.  Things really became complicated when I started a third job, this one, working as the front desk reception for Brentwood Publishing Company in Santa Monica.

"Good morning, and thank you for calling Brentwood Publishing.  How may I help you?"

That's how I answered the phone at the Brentwood company (which published various business periodicals).

"Good morning, Gold Room Butler service.  I have the extra towels your requested."

That's what I sometimes said whenever I responded to any number of those hotel guests who stayed on the 9th Floor at the Biltmore.  Or, "Good morning, Gold Room Butler service.  I have your iron," etc.

But one very strange week, I knocked on one of the 9th Floor guest doors at the Biltmore, and said, "Good morning, and thank you for calling Brentwood Publishing.  How can I help you?"

And then - I'd the answer the phones at Brentwood Publishing with, "Good morning.  Gold Room Butler service.  I have your towels."

THAT'S how crazy things were getting.  So, clearly - one job had to go...and I actually opted to leave both Brentwood Publishing and the Biltmore, and remained as one of the fake waiters at Duke's on General Hospital.

But it was the training that I had received at both the Biltmore and Brentwood Publishing (which was actually located in Santa Monica, where I lived at the time) that made an impression on me in more ways than one.

It was at Brentwood Publishing that I first considered life as a writer, and it was getting up at 4:30 AM to be there by 6:30 AM that indeed prepared me for the writer's life.

Because the downtown L.A. Biltmore was a good 25 miles from my apartment in Santa Monica, I had to rise and shine at 4:30 AM to arrive to work for my 6:30 AM butler call.  (On General Hospital, the fake Duke's didn't open until 3:00 PM!)

As a result, to this day, I rise and shine at 4:30 AM every morning, and write my best work.

Bewitched creator Sol Saks once told me that he could never write more than two hours a day; and he suggested that I'd do the same, as not to exhaust the creative flow.

Sometimes I write for three, maybe three-and-half-hours.  But that's it.  My peak time in the morning is short; but my mind is clear and the words flow (as they are this moment while writing this post).

Who would have thought my "time" working at the Biltmore would have prepped me for my writing career?  But it did.  In fact, pretty much everything I do in life preps me for my writing career...which is one of the many wonderful things about being a writer. 

Of course, there's a great many challenging things about being a writer; but the good outweighs the bad (as it always should - in any aspect or facet of life!).

That said (or written!), there was another interesting thing that transpired when I worked at the Biltmore. 

In order for me to reach the hotel by my 6:30 AM starting time, I had to arrive in downtown LA by at least 5:45, because I had a two-mile hike from the parking lot (which offered the cheapest rates) to the Biltmore.

During that two-mile trek you would have thought I was in a science fiction movie, or at least in an episode of The Twilight Zone or The Six Million Dollar Man, the one titled, "Where Have All the People Gone?"

On a Saturday and Sunday morning, at 5:45 AM in L.A., there wasn't a soul in the street.  I was walking all alone, feeling like some alien race had annihilated Earth's entire population.  

Of course that was all a foreshadow (e.g. writer's phrase) of things to come (i.e. classic sci-fi film title reference).

Clearly, writing at 4:30 AM is in my blood, as it was injected there - some thirty years ago (and maybe even a little before).

Thank you, Brentwood Publishing and the Biltmore Hotel for your "callings" - and mine.
     

This Is How You Do It: Your Path To True Success

If you're a success, but you're not sharing that success in some way, then you're doing it wrong.

If you're healthy, and not fully appreciating every moment of you're life, you're doing it wrong.

If you're particularly good-looking, and making fun of those who may not be so blessed, you're doing it wrong.

If you're rich, and haven't bought a lunch or dinner for a friend or family member, or even went so far as to pay their rent or mortgage during a challenging period in their lives, then you're doing it wrong.

If you've been given the gift to gab, but all you do is talk and think about yourself and your own needs 24-hours-a-day, then you're doing it wrong.

If you do a favor for someone only to receive something in return, then you're doing it wrong.

So, this is how you do it:

You wake up every morning, and thank the Good Lord for your beautiful life, even when you don't think it's so beautiful.  Because even when you don't think it's so beautiful, it is.  You're just probably too caught up inside yourself not to see it.

Then, as you prepare for your day, you ask yourself these questions:  "How can I bring joy into the life of someone else today?"  "Who needs my help?"   "Which of my friends or family members needs groceries?  A loan?  Or just a flat-out dollar amount that they never, ever need to pay me back for?"  "How can I contribute to someone's life today that will change their lives forever in the most positive way?"

Those are the kinds of questions you ask yourself upon beginning your day.

Because when you begin your day like that, and seek first to take care of others, Heaven will always take care of you.

That is Love's great promise.

And Love always keeps its promise.

Also, too, it's good to remember this bit of wisdom from Emerson, who said:

"No man is an island; no man goes his way alone; whatever we send into the lives of others; comes right back into our own."

So, send out only good things, my peeps...because all that good will come back to you...tenfold.

You Are the Star of Your Own Life Because You Write the Script

I grew up in Rochester, New York, and all I ever wanted to do was go to California and become a "star."

Although not raised in financial security, I was surrounded by a beautiful, loving-kind family, immediate and hugely extended.

My Mother and Father, God bless them in Heaven, each had ten brothers and sisters.  As a result, our house was considered "the" house, and every night was a party; not just for the family, but for everyone in the neighborhood - even after they moved out of the neighborhood.

Years after, in the mid-80s, I myself moved out of the neighborhood and onto Los Angeles.  And although "stardom," in the traditional sense, had alluded me, I found a measure of success.

However, I decided to return to Rochester to care for my parents in their elderly years.

But everyone else was gone.

No more aunts, no more uncles; no cousins, no more family gatherings; no more nightly parties.

I continued to make the best of it, attained additional layers of success, but still not the stardom I so desperately desired. 

However, I had a few revelations:

I would have given anything to have my massive family back...certainly, my Mom and Dad who, when they died, left me nothing of what this world calls secure.

Of course, I did not care for them to gain anything. I cared for them because I loved them (and still do!).  And feeling their love in return was enough for me...especially as I grew to appreciate the family that by that time had been long gone.

Today, I am once more back in L.A., and my dreams are in tact; my heart has softened when it most likely should have hardened.  My ambitions are more tempered; and I wait to create a family of my own...even at 53 (my Dad was 50 when I was born!).  The new knowledge and insight that I've gained through loss...and love...conquers daily the big purchases and the big parties.

In the process, too, I have finally reached my stardom...but not in the way that anyone who doesn't really know me might think:

I've realized that I've always been a star...maybe not of a TV show...or of the big-screen...but I've always been the star of my own life....just as each of us have always been the stars of our own lives.

So, Shakespeare was at least partially correct: life IS a stage - but we are more than just players.

We are the stars!

And yet with this sincere kind of stardom, none of the material things in life compare to the quality of loving-kind human relations.

The great friendships we attain, retain and/or reconnect with over the years, if only for a periodic coffee or lunch with good conversation, come to mean so much more than any career accomplishments.

All of it combines to deliver wisdom and understanding that we are here in this world...not so much to reach our goals...but to reach out to each other in the process of seeking our goals...to reach out to each other with nothing less than gracious greatness and, most of all, humility.

If in the process we should write our scripts, or actually become TV or movie stars, well of course that's a wonderful thing - as long as we at the very least keep it all in perspective.

Certainly, it is good to write the scripts of life.  But in order to truly perfect those scripts, and/or to reach any true access to stardom, we must first take the quality time to actually live the scripts of life.

Your Creative Ideas Are Whispers From Heaven

You came into this world for a reason.

You set up a plan to accomplish certain objectives; and you then chose and were as a result granted certain talents.

When you "think" of an idea; you are "remembering" what you came here to do.

Essentially, your creative ideas are whispers from Heaven.

If that idea if filled with greatness and grace, and somehow makes a contribution to your life, your business, your career; your family; your community; the world...you are obligated (by the demands you placed on yourself) to fulfill that idea.

In effect, you are directed to make your dreams come true.

If you ignore those ethereal whispers, and do not fulfill your "destiny," as it's been called, than you not only deny yourself, but those who would benefit from it - and you break your agreement with Heaven.

For example, I awakened this morning with the idea to write this post.

I was compelled to write it.

For you.  For me.  And for Heaven.

If I do nothing else today, I accomplished this one special task...that was whispered to me from Heaven.

So, today - I'm shining my Light....BRIGHT!

For all the world to see.

So, now you shine YOUR Light - even BRIGHTER!

Go live the A-Life that you came here to live....today!

Become everything you set out to become - and don't allow the slight of insecurities; petty jealousies from others; bullying - or any of that nonsense stop you.

That never stopped me - and I've heard it all.

Trust me.

So you just go do what you have to do - and do it with Love.

From there, it will be impossible for you not to succeed.

That's Heaven's promise.

Peace, Please

In my estimation, there are no chemical weapons used in Syria; just like there were no weapons of mass destruction used in Iraq.  It's all a bunch of malarkey created to justify America's unjust intervention in places we do not belong simply to further what is perceived as an economic boost.  

Translation:  war=profit at the senseless cost of innocent lives.  For some reason, America always has to create some one figure or some one nation to hate.  And we're doing it again.  Sadly.

Ultimately, our political leaders do not care about the world.  They are only using the world's issues to again, justify a war which they envision will create cash.  There is no sincere interest to help.  Instead, it is selfish-geared.

And if Syria is indeed utilizing some form of chemical weapons, it is none of our business.  It isn't our problem...just like it wasn't our problem in Vietnam, Iraq or Afghanistan.  We are not the police of the world.  

Today, we have those who are ill and dying in OUR country who need support.    We cannot help others unless we take care of ourselves (just like during any potential crisis on an airplane; we must place the oxygen mask over ourselves first, then our fellow passenger).

Into this mix, millions of Americans and world citizens are wising up to the endless line of baloney about the "necessities of war" that have littered for centuries thousands of history books, newspaper and magazine articles; online reports, press conferences, etc .  We're not buying it anymore.  We're tired of the senseless loss of life; the misery; the emotional and psychological destitution of war.  The price is too high, and we're no longer willing or stupid enough to sit idly by and pay it.   

That all said, the bottom line is this:

True leadership is ignited, displayed and conducted with dignity, intelligence of the mind and the heart, in a calm, level-headed, objective, peaceful manner.

So, please pray for peace and discernment instead of going and starting a war that will ultimately destroy this planet.