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The "Wu Word" Blog

Band-Aid

If push comes to shove and I am backed in a corner, I will push back—and get nasty.  Very nasty. 
 
Take three weeks ago when it was intolerably and unbearably hot in my apartment.  I felt like I was suffocating.  My apartment has always been on the warmer and even hotter side.  Cracking windows open had always worked in the past, but not this time.  It did not help that there were gaping holes in the window screens.  I had told myself time and time again that I would get the window screens repaired when the weather was nicer.  Now I no longer just thought of only me.  I had to think of my kitty cat Ricky.  I was afraid Ricky would scratch through the already damaged window screens and go into ‘escape artist’ mode. I ended up opening the windows just a tiny smidge.  I thought it was just me feeling like I was on fire, but then Ricky started throwing up and I was just about ready to pass out.  I put in a call to my upstairs neighbor who came down to check if I had handles to self-regulate the temperature.  She wanted to leave my apartment as soon as she stepped in, saying: “It is really damn hot in your apartment.  This is abnormal for a basement apartment.  You do not have the self-regulating handles.  You better call the management emergency line.”
 
I had already called four times.  By the fifth time, I was practically shouting and seething over the phone nastily, “It is as hot as an oven in here!  This is unacceptable!  I have health issues.  My cat is throwing up.  I am going to get the board president involved and take legal action if needed.  If anything happens to us, I am holding you accountable.” 
 
Finally over two hours later, the maintenance guy who I absolutely loathe because he is obnoxious, rude, and has a history of being very rough with repairs in my apartment came barging in like a rabid, crazed beast enraged at me, “Why don’t you have the windows opened?”
 
He began opening all the windows without my permission.  I said to him icily, “Please do not do that.  Close the windows.  NOW.” 
 
Ricky was always the social and curious cat who loved being the center of attention, but he ran away and hid as soon as the maintenance guy came storming in.  Ricky peeked out when he heard my icy voice; His green eyes were bewildered and frightened. When I am furious, one of two things will happen: I start whining/complaining OR I get extremely quiet and cold.  The latter is the scariest.  If looks and my voice could kill, the maintenance guy would have dropped dead on the spot.  The maintenance guy immediately closed the windows.  My management department and the maintenance guy all questioned and then demanded, “Why don’t you put on the air conditioner?  Why don’t you open the windows wider?”
 
I snapped at all of them: “Do not give me a temporary fix.  Find out what the problem is with the temperature system and solve it.  Do not give me a band-aid.” 
 
The maintenance guy ended up cracking through my kitchen and bedroom radiator covers with his bare hands balled into fists to turn the temperature valves off fully.  Within two weeks and in two sessions (one of which was an absolute disaster) to try to install handles so I can self-regulate the temperatures, I learned about boiler and temperature systems and valves, radiator covers, my management company, the board and its members, the life of plumbers and technicians who are always on call and on the road, and those extremely select few gems who are patient and efficient enough to examine the situation and problem at hand to figure out and find the long-term options and solutions.  I have learned all this stuff and more as I go and grow up living on my own, without anyone helping really being able to ‘rescue’ me.   I laughed as a response to one of my friends asked me, “Why don’t you get your father to just help you?”  Because, that’s not how life and this world works where you can ALWAYS depend and turn to others for help in ‘push comes to shove’ situations that require solutions that you have to figure out all alone.   Many, if not all, battles are fought alone.  We are lucky if we have a supporting cast there by our side, but, in essence, we are the ones who must endure on our own where we are not in a place to ‘band-aid’ anything up. 
 
These are the times we are living in now.  We do not actually try to find out what the root of the problem is.  We want an easy and quick way, because the longer way for the actual long-term is a painful and pesky process.  We try to cover and mask things up.  We are impatient, rushed, and hurried.  We band-aid everything up without letting the wound air out to find out what the root of the problem is for a long-term, efficient, and effective solution.  How are you with emergencies?  Do you feel like you have people or a person to turn to that can help in the case of an emergency?  Or that you have to fend for yourself?  When have you put a band-aid on rather than let everything air out for a REAL solution? 
 
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,
 
Mary ;-) 
 

 

I Love You

“Dad,” I paused and twisted the phone cord, “I just want you to know I love you.”
 
My dad’s response was an awkward chuckle, asking if I was okay and what happened, and then he asked, “Did you eat dinner yet?” 
 
“Yes,” I answered dutifully, “Leftovers.” 
 
The other day, I sent my sister a voice message on her WhatsApp and said, “Life is short.  I just wanted to let you know I love you.” 
 
Immediately, I received a response, “Yes, life is very short.  I’m lucky to have you as my sister.” 
 
In the Wu family, we do not say “I Love You.”  In my family, we do not ask: “How are you?”    Rather, we ask: “Have you eaten yet?” and then our bellies are filled with our favorite homemade dishes and we are sent out of the door with hugs and multiple containers with food compartmentalized neatly and meticulously.  I feel like the oddball and more so teetering on all-American rather than the stereotypical reserved Asian when I feel the craving and need to say “I Love You,” because there comes that moment in time when the person will no longer be there for me to say it and for, maybe and God forbid, the person to know it and not just feel it.  How is “I Love You” in your family? 
 
My Stepmom once said to me, “People know when you love and care about them.”
 
“How do people know?” I ask.
 
“Because they feel it.  They feel your love and you feel their love,” she said.   
 
I can’t remember the last time someone said they loved me, but I can tell you all the times people showed they loved me and I felt it beyond measure.  Showing love has always been important to me, and, for me, it is always the little acts of love and kindness that amount and add up to the most and that layer up like warm blankets that wrap us up and make us smile gratefully on the coldest of nights.  Lately, saying and even hearing “I Love You” has been just as important to me.  In a blink of an eye, our lives can change forever from one single moment.  One day, someone we love is here.  Another day, gone.   More so slowly and now suddenly, giving, receiving, sharing, showing, saying, and feeling “LOVE” has been even more vital to me.  I do not want to waste my days or wait until it is too late to not express “I Love You” in all the many expressions that there are.  There are many variations and definitions of love.  Love is shown.  Love is said.  Yet, above all else, love is felt in the absolute depths of us that cannot be described, explained, and fully and logically rationalized.  I’ve always, always believed that love is something you feel—and there are endless feelings we feel that we cannot put into words—and, yet, we continue to try in these three simple words of “I Love You” .
 
These three simple words “I Love You” hold incredible meaning and significance.  When did random announcements of “I Love You” take the people we love aback rather than melt and repeat the words back out of truth and not requirement?  With the people you love, do they tell you that they love you and vice versa?  Does love need to be said and shown? Would you be upset if someone ‘showed’ you that they loved you, but never said it?  Or, vice versa?  When was the last time you said the random “I Love You” to someone you really loved? 
 
I can only hope that the people I love know it and feel it from me.
 
Do you know and feel that you are loved?
 
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,
 

Mary ;-) 

Home

I couldn’t help it.  I could feel an ATT (Adult Temper Tantrum), or meltdown, was about to commence.  I started crying.   
 
This Japanese woman’s full pink lips that was upturned in a plastered smile immediately went down.  She shook her head and gently repeated in halting English, “I’m sorry. It is typhoon.  No flight to New York from Beijing.  First flight Beijing to New York is first thing tomorrow morning.  Stay overnight in Beijing.”
 
Fat tears just rolled down faster.  I was exhausted and nauseous.  My stomach was grumbling noisily.  My back and shoulder blades were knotted and ridden with sharp pangs from carrying my heavy book bag and duffel bag of souvenirs.  I had been up since 4AM to catch a 9AM flight from Kyoto to Beijing.  Beijing was supposed to then go to New York directly.  Because of the typhoon, I missed my 13-hour connecting flight from Beijing to New York.  Now, I was going to have to stay overnight in Beijing.  I was almost out of my transplant medications.  I was all alone. 
 
I squared my shoulders, tried to stand up as tall as my 4’11” could muster, and wiped the tears away.  I once asked my father who was the ultimate survivor in life, “How do you do it?  How do you survive in life?” He said, “You do not think about it.  You do what you have to do.  You just do it.  You do it.” So, I would do it.  Just like I always had in life.  

I tried to explain to the woman as slowly and calmly as I could, “I have had two kidney transplants and health issues.  I need to get home.”  I showed her documents of all my transplant medications and transplant center notes.
 
She showed the documents to a steely-eyed man who I guessed was her boss.  His eyes were cold and unsympathetic.  Both of them just shook their head at me.  That was when I realized that they really and truly could not help me AND they did not care about my health at all.  The woman slowly said, “Cannot help you.  No flight to New York today.  Only tomorrow.  Check with United Airlines.”
 
She pointed to the kiosk next door that seemed to bling and blink brighter, as I had flown United Airlines many times compared to this first time with Air China.  I shuffled to United Airlines where the waterworks started again.  A very kind woman said, “We have flights that will go to New York, but you must call United Airlines.”
 
With little energy but still feisty as ever, I sputtered, “But, you are right here.  I do not have access to call on my cell phone.” 
 
She beckoned me to follow her, and presented a yellow pay phone.  Do pay phones still exist?  Apparently so.  She explained, “You feed 100 yen coins every 3 minutes.”
 
I waited on hold for up to 10 minutes with each of my 100 yen coins disappearing into the pay phone.  A very calm gentleman got on the phone and said, “There is flight.  Over $5000.”
 
“Over $5000 USD?” I exclaimed. 
 
“Yes,” he paused, “Why is Air China not helping you?  Have you told them your situation?  About your health?”
 
“Yes, I don’t know why they aren’t helping me, so that’s why I’m on the phone here hoping you can help me get back home.  But, I cannot afford $5000 for a one way ticket back to the U.S.A., so I guess I will have to figure it out and let it work out on its own.”
 
I hung up.  I was all out of 100 yen coins.  I took a deep breath, thanked the very kind woman at United Airlines, and said I would figure it out with Air China.  I marched back to the Air China kiosk desk.  They arranged for me to fly out first thing the next morning.  “OK,” I thought to myself and tried to think positively, “I tried.  I’ll see what they say when I arrive in Beijing.  I am meant to stay in Beijing overnight. I am meant to practice my broken Chinese.  Maybe they will put me up at a good hotel and I can eat a nice bowl of hearty dumplings.” 
 
The 9AM flight from Kyoto, Japan to Beijing, China ended up leaving at 2PM.  I kept my eyes and ears as open as I could to anyone who spoke English.  My ears perked up when I heard a couple speaking English.  I learned that this couple were originally from Oklahoma, U.S.A., and now lived in Israel.  They told me of their travels in Asia and the Arabic and Hebrew languages they spoke in Israel.  The wife wished me good luck on my travels to try to get back home.  I would need it.
 
From October 10-October 23, I was in Taiwan and Japan.  During that entire time, I only saw sunshine probably two or three days in Okinawa.  Excluding those days, it rained and rained and rained some more.  My umbrella broke from the rain.  Torrential fiery rains that soaked right into the cores of my feet and body and that left my shoes sopping wet and having to dry them out with scrounged up balls of newspaper. I walked up to 6 miles one day, with at least a mile or more in flooding waters of a typhoon.   I never knew what my body was capable of until it was forced to be capable.  I forgot what sunshine looked and felt like. In Beijing, I saw sunshine for the first time and my lips lifted in a big wide smile.  

The Beijing airport is huge.  I remembered that back in 2014 when I visited.  It seemed even bigger and more monstrous this time around.   I bumped into a whole cluster of people who had missed the connecting flight just like me.  I got to talking to a woman with magenta-dyed hair who was trying to get back to London and a man who was trying to get back to Paris.  We scrambled to find our way to the area to find out about connecting flights.  The line was excruciating and painstakingly long and required utmost patience, casual conversation, and humor.
 
“I love New York!”the woman with magenta-dyed hair clamored happily in her British accent, “Everyone is so friendly!”
 
I gave them my email address and cheerfully said, “You are always welcome to New York!”
 
I thought about vital it was to stop and see all the beauty and experience all the awe and awesome in the midst of the unpleasant.  Select few gems of people as the United Airlines representative, the Israeli couple, and now these French and British passengers had certainly been the bright sparks in the dark. When have you stopped in the midst of the most unpleasant times to see and experience the pleasant?  In the picture that looks so ugly, are you still able to find the beautiful parts? 
 
When finally meeting face to face with a frowning woman who sat sternly behind the connecting flights desk, I pleaded desperately in my broken Chinese, “I’m sorry that I speak very little Chinese.  I am American.  Please get me to the U.S.A.  Please get me to New York.  Please get me home.”  
 
She examined the paperwork I gave to her that outlined I would have to stay overnight in Beijing at a hotel because the first available direct flight to New York from Beijing was the next day.  Without any emotions and not even looking at me, she was on the phone speaking in rapid Chinese that I could not completely make out but was able to understand that there was some other option to get home sooner. 
 
When she finally hung up, I looked at her with hope.  Honestly, she was my only hope at this point.  I could hear my father saying on the phone before I boarded the plane to Beijing from Kyoto, “Get out of Beijing as soon as you can.” 
 
“We can get you back to New York, but you have to leave from here in Beijing to Los Angeles and then Los Angeles to New York.  You will arrive in New York at about 6AM the next day.”
 
“Yes!” I practically screamed before she could fully finish her sentence.
 
With quick and precise stamping and stapling, she handed me new paperwork.  I had to wait on yet another long line to receive immigration clearance to leave Beijing, collect my bulging and hefty navy blue and striped red suitcase, and then re-check in to International flights from Beijing to Los Angeles. 
 
The Beijing airport is so massive that there are frequently running underground trams to bring you to another area of the airport.  On the tram, I encountered an elderly couple who had to be close to their 80’s looking to sit together.  Tired, but still believing in kindness, I slowly forced my aching body to move to an uncomfortable area of the tram so they could sit together.  They were incredibly grateful and started speaking to me in Chinese.  I repeated my same line in Chinese:  ““I’m sorry that I speak very little Chinese.  I am American.” 
 
The couple seemed to understand and nodded politely.  The elderly woman smiled gently at me with a twinkle in her eyes. 
 
We made our way to the security.  The Beijing security makes the JFK airport security look like wimps.  A young security guard roughly shoved my bag on the conveyor belt and then started yelling at me a word that I couldn’t make out.
 
The elderly woman tried to translate for me: “Battery, Battery.”
 
“Battery?” I repeated confused.  I did not have any battery.  What was that about?  I immediately said I did not have a battery. They dug through my bag and found a battery pack that my friend had gave me to charge my phone when it was completely out and started speaking quickly and nervously.

I tried to explain it was a battery pack to charge my phone.  They ignored me and proceeded to wipe it down with what looked like perfume samples.  
 
Another woman in security continued to go through my bag with gloved hands and then yanked out my remaining pillbox of transplant medications yelping in Chinese that I could only assume her saying: “What the heck is this?”
 
The elderly woman looked at me and then looked at all the brightly colored pills and tried to translate for me to the security woman: “Medicine.”
 
The security woman gave her an icy glare and snapped, “I know.”  The elderly woman cowered back, looking down on the ground.  I could not believe this.  What happened to respecting the elderly?  I wanted to snap at the security woman to give me back my bag and leave the poor older woman alone, but I heard my Dad in my mind saying: “Keep quiet.  Do not get hot headed.  You can get away with that in the U.S.A., but not in China.  Leave Beijing quietly and quickly.” 
 
I gave the elderly woman a sympathetic, understanding, and appreciative nod.  I gave the security woman a slight disgusted and fully bewildered expression.  It took every ounce of me to close my mouth and bite my tongue to not say anything to the security woman.  I just wanted to and had to get to the gate as soon as possible.  At the gate, I encountered the elderly woman again who was curled up in a ball trying to sleep on the two hard chairs at the gate.  I thanked the woman in Chinese and she immediately asked: “Do you want to sit?” 
 
My face softened into such humble gratitude.  I told her in Chinese to rest and that I would be fine.  Again, seeing and experiencing the beauty and kindness in the midst of the unpleasant and the difficult kept me grounded and revved me up again to keep on going.
 
The flight to Los Angeles was a direct 11 hours.  I had been on longer flights to Hong Kong and Taiwan that ranged between 13-15 hours.  All I wanted to do was sleep.   As luck would have it, there was nearly no one on the flight and I had all three seats to myself.  Times like this, I was full of appreciation for my short height as I laid down fitting snugly and perfectly in the three seats.  I slept like there was no tomorrow. 
 
In the pockets of moments I was awake, I found a movie that I really enjoyed called “Bakery in Brooklyn.”  It made me miss home even more.  Mind you, I had never stepped foot in Brooklyn, but just the fact that it was in New York made me nostalgic and impatient to land in New York again. 
 
When the plane finally touched down in Los Angeles, it was about 6PM California time.  Wired tired and going on adrenaline, I tried to get out of the plane as soon as my body and the crowds could allow me.  I dreaded the fact that I had another 5 to 6 more hours to go to NY, but I had never been happier to be on U.S.A. soil. Rather than fully rejoicing, a sinking feeling of fear landed in the pit of my stomach when I saw that the plane ticket that was given to me in Beijing did not make any sense as I had no clue what airline and what time my flight was from Los Angeles back to New York.  I was not out of the woods yet.
 
It took over 30 minutes, but felt a whole heck of a lot longer to get my poor luggage that was enduring the same nightmare itinerary as me of three countries (Japan, China, U.S.A.) and four cities (Kyoto, Beijing, Los Angeles, and New York).  I was petrified (yet would not be the slightest surprised) that my luggage had not made it to U.S.A. soil as I had.  You would not imagine my sigh of immense relief when I finally saw my luggage tattered and torn on the conveyor belt.  There were two more rounds of security I had to get through in Los Angeles without even knowing what airline and the time my flight was.  For all I knew, I had missed my connecting flight from Los Angeles to New York. 
 
The security guard looked at my Air China airplane ticket and spouted, “This ticket looks weird.  But, it is able to be scanned that you are taking JetBlue airlines to New York at 9PM.  Go to Terminal 5 and get a JetBlue representative to issue you a new ticket.” 
 
I checked the time that it was about 7PM.  I breathed a sigh of relief that I still had time.  The walk to Terminal 5 seemed to last forever.  I was sweating bullets and my body was on the way to collapsing.  A hefty gentleman behind me who was panting said, “Wow, they really make you work it to get to Terminal 5.”
 
No kidding. 
 
I had never been happier at the sounds of booming rock n’ roll music blasting, the people chattering cheerfully, and the loud and joyous laughter in Terminal 5.  I had never been happier to whip out green United States dollars to buy a bottle of water and a bag of chips.  So close to New York that I could just feel it. 
 
I braced myself that I would have to deal with a window seat and be sick for 5-6 hours.  I do not do well with window seats.  I popped in Ginger Mints and chewed peppermint gum in preparation for the nausea and lack of sleep that was to come on this red-eye flight.  Imagine my shock and surprise when I had my ultimate comfort zone of an aisle seat right near First Class and the unlimited supply of snacks and bathroom.  I also had extra leg room to stretch out!   I was so thrilled that I could cry tears of joy!  It was the little things!  I probably had the biggest and goofiest grin on my face! 
 
On the 5-6 hour flight from Los Angeles to New York, I managed to catch some sleep, watch “Beetlejuice,” and pack up on snacks that JetBlue offered.  I was practically jumping through my skin that I would soon be back in New York and reunited with my kitty cat Ricky, family, and friends!
 
It was 5AM when I landed in New York.  I was so dazed, exhausted, and exhilarated.  I was just numb at that point.   Everything went so smoothly with my luggage practically the first one waiting for me at baggage claim.  However, most sadly and not shockingly, my luggage handle had broken.  My taxi driver was stuck in traffic from a bad accident and I had to wait over 30 minutes for her with my broken luggage and two other bags on a cart that I paid $6 for. So close, yet so far away.
 
Outside, I stared up at the wide sky that had slivers and slices of pinks and blues.  The sun was rising.   I breathed in that familiar and fresh and cool air.  A sense of calm with honking cars wrapped me up in comfort.  I was finally here in New York.  I was almost home.
 
My taxi driver talked the entire almost two hour ride that was bumper to bumper back to Ossining about food.  I was so nauseous, sick, and tired that I did not even have the energy to ask her to please let me sleep so I would not vomit.  I nearly fell out of the car when I got out.  I was woozy and unsteady.  My taxi driver helped steady me and I saw her concerned face through my half opened eyes: “Are you OK?” 
 
“Yes,” I managed weakly.
 
She helped me with my broken luggage and gave me a big hug before she left saying: “Welcome back home, Mary!”
 
I opened the door to my kitty cat Ricky meowing like crazy and nearly jumping on top of me.  I passed out on the ground sprawled out next to my broken baggage and worn out backpack and duffel bag.  Ricky was meowing all around me and stepping on me like a welcome mat.  I could kiss the ground.  I could not believe everything and everyone it took to get back here. I could not believe that I was finally here.  I could not believe that I was finally home.  Home.     
 
There is no place sweeter than home. I had never been so grateful to be an American until I was in Beijing.  ‘Home’ is a different place and holds a different meaning for everyone.  Are you a wanderer who loves to move/travel and not stay in one place?  Is there ONE place that is ‘home’ to you?  What is ‘home’ to you?  Where is your ‘home’? 
 
Home Sweet Home.
 
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,
 
 Mary ;-) 

It Could be Me

I am unable to watch the news anymore.  I do not remember the last time I picked up a newspaper.  The most I can muster is quickly viewing the headlines that leave me depressed and sickened.  I must say that I like and prefer my rose-colored glass that shields me from reality in all its unabashed ugly.    Behind my rose-colored glasses, I escape and go to places of sanctuary and safety where I try to do good and be good in the face of the blatant bad and just life plainly sucks sometimes.  These places revolve around my volunteer work that remind me “It Could Be Me.” 
 
Volunteer work at large venues to try to register people as life-saving organ, eye, and tissue donors.  Volunteer work at the animal rescue events to advocate for animals.  And, above all else, my favorite volunteer work: The Midnight Run.
 
It was at least five years ago that I attended my first Midnight Run where I participated and assisted in giving food, drinks, toiletries, and the absolute necessities that we take for granted to those who are labeled as ‘homeless’ and having ‘mental disorders.’   I had never been so physically exhausted yet emotionally charged than that night.  I did not hesitate to assist again a couple weeks ago, but I knew my aging over 35-year-old body could not take on staying up until past midnight.  So, I did what I did best: I prepped.  I made sandwiches.  I bagged food.  I organized toiletry bags.  I matched shoes and tied laces.  I talked.  A lot.  To a room full of people—some would go out late that night to help the homeless.  Others as myself would not and would prep and prepare.  One woman I met this night of prep and prepare made a comment that it was typically those with mental disorders that were out on the street, but this was not always the case and shared with me about this woman who made an impression on her:
 
“She had a full-time job, but her daughter got sick requiring around the clock care.  She had to leave her job and the healthcare bills kept piling up.  Eventually, her daughter died, and she was all out of resources and out on the streets.”
 
I commented, “It could be you.  It could be me.” 
 
“Yes,” she responded, “We all fall on hard times.  Life can be cruel and sad and painful, but also so beautiful.  It could be anyone of us.” 
 
When I am at Midngith Run and all my other volunteer gigs and when I see what is happening around the world and to the people I love that is of pain and suffering, I am filled with this odd and unexplainable feelings of empty and full at the same time.  Always, always, the sentence that follows after “It Could Be Me,” is “Dang, I am so blessed.”  I sense a shift in the world we are living in.  Cries for help.  Heads buried in the sands.  We all see and experience what is going on in the world—whether it be directly or indirectly, but this is all about us and we.  We are all trying our best to get through our lives and this world day in and day out.  We all have a part to play in this world that can be for the better and greater.  What are you doing for this world?  Perhaps I do not always cling and wear my rose-colored glasses after all.   
 
I think we all are more fragile than ever, needing and craving more compassion and gentleness in these tumultuous times. We all fall on hard times.  We can be quick to kick someone when they are down.  When have you looked at someone on the outside only to think ‘wow, that could be me,’ making you even more full of gratitude?  When have you been at your most vulnerable to receive compassion as the ultimate reaction rather than disdain?  When have you experienced the utmost kindness and gentleness that meant the most to you?  When have you given compassion that meant the world to someone else? What is your positive part and purpose to and in this world?  
 
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,
 
 
Mary ;-) 
 

 

The Locksmith

“Do you know Mike?  He can help you out.  He is the key master.  If he can’t get the keys right, then no one can.”
 
My patience was wearing thin.  This was my THIRD (yes, THIRD) visit to the hardware store to get a copy of my keys.  By now, I knew the names of the three people who had tried unsuccessfully to copy my persnickety keys.  By now, they were tired of seeing my face with the dangling keys on the key ring saying in defeat, “Sorry, it didn’t work.  They key goes in, but it doesn’t turn. “
 
On to the fourth try, I received my refund and headed across the street to this Master Key guy named Mike.  When I walked in, I felt like I was pulled back in time to some other planet.  Plastered on every single wall, nook, cranny, and crevice were keys, keys, and more keys.  There were some other sections of safes, key rings, key labels, and also doorknobs, and locks.  On the countertop, there was a big basket of chocolates and candies.  I immediately went for a cherry-flavored Starburst. 
 
A thin balding man with a caterpillar moustache that lifted upwards into a smile greeted me.  His pale blue eyes lightened up when I presented the challenge, “Are you Mike?  Can you make a copy of my keys?  This is the fourth time.  I heard that if anyone can make a copy of my keys that it would be you.”   
 
“That is correct!!” he boasted gleefully, took my keys before I could say anything else, put on goggles, and traipsed happily to his vibrating key machine. 
 
Polished, shiny gold keys that twinkled in the light were the final product.  With a hammer, he engraved his name simply as “Mike” into the keys.
 
There was not a single doubt in my mind that the keys would finally work.  When I returned home, I gently put one key in the mailbox and one in the doorknob.  Again, neither key worked. Yelling at the doorknob and mailbox, “What the heck??”  I immediately contacted Mike who was completely baffled. “That is extremely odd.  That can’t be right.  Come back again.”
 
On my fifth time and in this visit Mike, I went for a Twix snack size bar while he examined my keys in the utmost of scrutiny.  He said, “Do you know I made this mailbox key over 20 years ago?  I used to work out of the Ossining Hardware.  I remember making this key.”
 
In mid-chew with caramel blanketing the roof of my mouth, I said incredulously, “Really?”
 
“Yes.  This will work.  You will see.  And, if it doesn’t, I’ll come to your place for free to check on the doorknobs and locks.  We will find a way to get it to work.  The thing about keys is you have to get them just right….you cannot force the key and they have to just be the right exact fit.” 
 
Returning back home, I took a deep breath as I faced off with my mailbox and doorknob.  I closed my eyes as I stuck the keys in, expecting them to get stuck again.  Imagine my shock when the keys finally worked!  I couldn’t believe it!  I was absolutely elated!  Fifth time was the charm! 
 
What seemed so simple to do turned out much too complicated until it was the right person who got it right for everything to work out. It often takes many tries until it works out. It is always who you get.  There will be people that will give up on you and easily, and then there will be people who will keep on going and trying and go the extra mile for you.  It never comes easy.  There are no shortcuts.  It will often take many tries and tribulations to get it just right and work how it needs to work out.  You can never force anything or anyone as it has to be just the right fit, timing, and circumstances. Even when it isn’t working out, it is actually making its way to working out. 
 
When have you had to keep on trying and depending on others to get it to work out?  When did everything seem like it was falling apart only to eventually and finally fall into place for you?     
 
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,
 
 
Mary ;-) 
 

 
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