Tag: perception

Hidden Heroes

I was driving down Interstate 45, somewhere between Dallas and Houston. All around me, a vast Texas landscape unfolded — a cornucopia of rolling hills, thicketed trees, and pastures dotted with cattle.

But in the midst of all this scenery, something else appeared through my windshield — the back of an oil tanker.

The big rig was in my lane, and I was gaining on it quickly. I prepared to cut over to the left lane and whiz by the tanker. But, to my dismay, I noticed there was an 18-wheeler camped out in that lane. I would have to slow down and wait my turn.

I had been making good time on my journey, and I was none too happy about this temporary delay. The tanker seemed like nothing more than an inconvenience — a nuisance meant to foil those seeking to make the Dallas-Houston run in less than four hours.

As I waited for my opportunity to pass the tanker, my mind drifted.

Suddenly, I found myself a few years back in time. I was sitting in a 90-minute line at a North Texas gas station, waiting for the opportunity to refuel my SUV. It was hot out, and I was agitated.

In the midst of this misery, I saw an oil tanker pull into the fueling area. My mood shifted. My spirits soared.

I’d never taken much note of these vehicles before, even though I’d spent three years in West Texas oil country. Out in the patch, these vehicles were as pedestrian as they were unwieldy.

But now, this tanker represented the cavalry. It would save me from running out of gas. It would save all of us in this Godforsaken line.

The fact that there was a line at all was a sign of the times. Hurricane Harvey had recently devastated the Texas Coast, and its floodwaters had forced the refineries in Houston to shut down. Suddenly, something we all took for granted — an endless supply of gasoline — seemed anything but certain.

A full-on fuel panic ensued. People raced to the nearest fueling spots to top off their tanks. Gas station owners jacked up their prices. And some drivers even cut off their air conditioning in order to stretch their fuel range.

All of this was an overreaction. There were plenty of other refineries — in Louisiana and further inland — that were still up and running. There would be plenty of gasoline for everyone.

But the die had already been cast. Pandemonium had taken over, and gas stations were getting sucked dry.

In the midst of all this, the oil tankers crisscrossing the region got their star turn. The fuel in their tanks became our version of Manna from heaven. And the drivers of these rigs were our heroes.

How strange it must have been for those drivers. They surely didn’t take that role to save the world. They were just looking for a steady job with good pay. Anonymity came part and parcel with the role.

That anonymity had evaporated, thanks to a series of events outside these drivers’ control. Now, they were the center of attention.

But the moment would prove fleeting. Once things got back to normal, the tankers and their drivers would fade into the woodwork once again.

One would only have to look at me — trapped behind a tanker on the Interstate and muttering under my breath — to see how far the pendulum would swing in the other direction.

There are many things our nation struggles with. But honoring our heroes is not one of them.

We pay tribute to the brave men and women in our military at seemingly any opportunity. The days of veterans getting spat upon during their return home are long gone.

Now, military families are honored with parades and standing ovations at sporting events (in non-pandemic times). They’re rewarded with such perks as affordable housing and specialized insurance. They’re treated with the respect they deserve.

Other professions also get the hero’s welcome in times of crisis. Firefighters got critical acclaim in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. Airline pilots got applauded after Sully Sullenberger landed a compromised commercial jet on the Hudson River.

Still, such goodwill does not always stick. When the lights go down and normalcy returns, the hero arc comes to an end. These professions find themselves ignored, or even antagonized.

Just look at the New York Police Department. The NYPD has had its issues over the years, and the department has been vilified in some quarters. But as the World Trade Center lay in ruins, New Yorkers softened their tune.

Officers put it all on the line, running toward the crumbling towers to save those still inside. A total of 23 NYPD officers lost their lives in the attacks that day — a toll that wasn’t lost on anyone.

Yet, the hero turn didn’t last long. As New York rebuilt from its bleakest moment, it once again cast a critical glance at those in blue. Issues of racial profiling bubbled back to the surface.

And then, in July 2014, police choked Eric Garner to death while arresting him. At the moment anger over police brutality was spiking nationwide, the NYPD found itself on the wrong side of history. Barely a decade after its brightest moment, the department faced arguably its darkest one.

The NYPD’s saga is sobering, but it’s hardly unique.

As the saying goes: You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

As a deadly pandemic continues to rage, we are finding new heroes to fete.

Healthcare workers. Teachers. Delivery drivers.

The men and women in these professions have done yeoman’s work, as the virus continues to turn our lives upside down. But they’d also done yeoman’s work long before the era of masks, sanitizer, and social distancing. We just never took the time to notice.

As the son of teachers, this chasm has long been apparent to me. And while I am glad to see these professions finally get their due, I worry about what comes next.

How soon will it be before we forget? How quickly will we overlook these industries and those devoting their lives to them? How long until we’re back muttering at that slow-moving oil tanker ahead of us on the highway?

Hopefully, a real long time.

Unlike our military, teachers aren’t called to put their lives on the line. Unlike our police, healthcare workers don’t have to reckon with use of force concerns. Unlike our airline pilots, delivery drivers are not confined to invisibility when times are good.

There is no reason why our applause should stop when the danger ends. There is no reason for our adulation to come with strings attached.

So now, in this moment of sustained crisis, let us make a pledge. Let us ensure that these men and women are hidden heroes never more. Let us continue to give them the due they deserve.

We owe them that.

The Art of Being Real

What objective are you striving for?

Is it to find greatness? To maximize fulfillment? To attain balance?

These are popular goals to shoot for in life. But my answer to this question is a lot less glamourous.

I strive to be real.

Each and every day, I seek to stay grounded by a singularity of purpose.

I tend not to sugarcoat things, or put on airs.

Instead, I say what I mean. And I do what I say.

The premise is simple. If people know what to expect of me, they can count on me to deliver.

The congruency of my words and actions builds trust. That trust speaks volumes. But it also keeps me on my toes.

For being real is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Once one gains a reputation of reliability, one is expected to maintain it.

Others expect me to be true to my word. And staying true to my word means staying true to myself.

This cycle keeps me grounded in reality. At least in theory.

In actuality, my sense of reality is different than just about anyone else’s. It’s inherently biased by my perceptions of my own experiences.

This contradiction is present everywhere I go, and on everything I touch. It’s perhaps most prominent on this website — Words of the West.

When I started this site, I labeled it as a forum where I would share my truth. Yet, that truth often belies the brand I’ve built.

The words I share here are not particularly western. These articles are not Cowboy Poetry, or the words you might find read at a Chuckwagon Roundup. In fact, many of them draw from my experience growing up along the East Coast of the US.

So, what gives? Why would I — someone who values being real — create a brand laced with inconsistency?

The answer has to do with aspiration. Words of the West is as much about the reality I seek to live into in the future than it is about the one I embrace today.

Let’s dive deeper into that statement.

In my view, there are three components of being real.

One component entails understanding your origin. It requires full awareness of where you came from, and how that shaped who you are today.

A second component entails understanding your surroundings. It requires awareness of the intricate web of context in the world around you, and how your actions will be perceived.

A third concept entails understanding your future. It requires the awareness that your reality today might differ from your reality tomorrow.

Unless we find ourselves running from a traumatic childhood, we can often reconcile with the first component. By the time we reach adulthood, we tend to understand how our origin impacted our perspective.

Yet, we often trip ourselves up on the second component. If we have a poor sense of self, we might spring ourselves into action without first considering the contextual consequences.

The words we say and things we do in these moments are impulsive. They lack a central underlying theme.

As such, we find ourselves with such unwanted labels as fake and two-faced.

A commitment to consistency can change this narrative. Aligning actions and words to a common line of thinking can help us build the social capital we need to be considered genuine and true.

This seems like the goal to shoot for. But we can, and should, go much farther.

For our reality will continue to evolve. And the more we can see around the bend, the better we’ll be able to stay on course through these changes.

This is what I’m seeking to do with Words of the West.

In my case, my origins are back east. My present reality is located physically in Texas and holistically within the context of modern American culture. And my aspirational reality — the reality I seek to achieve — that is what I write about each week.

Much like the west, the reality I aspire toward appears simple but is filled with hidden nuance. Its possibilities are wide open, yet its path is guided by a sense of morality. It tells its own story — one that appears grandiose but it never too big for its britches.

It’s the reality I dream of. But not the one that I’m ready to live into quite yet.

That awareness is what inspires me.

It motivates me to keep sharing my voice here. And it reminds me to stay true to the standards I’ve set for myself each and every day.

These objectives might not be glamorous. But they’re real.

And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Ideal or Real?

Wouldn’t it be great if…?

We’ve started a sentence or three this way before.

The premise is simple: The status quo stinks and there’s a better reality to strive towards.

In other words, there is a gap between what’s real and what’s ideal.

This gap is a reality for all of us in an imperfect world. Life doesn’t go our way all the time.

Whether we have a lot or a little, there are things we want improved. There are days we wish we had a mulligan on. And there are times when we’re not feeling our best.

We bridge this gap through imagination and communication. By conveying to others our utopia, our ideal situation. Our Wouldn’t it be great if…? moment.

Yet, our perspective on the chasm between where we are and where we want to be can differ greatly from person to person.

Some of us approach this gulf as idealists with realist aspirations. And others look at is as realists with idealist aspirations.

Idealists with realist aspirations look at their current situation with a mixture of hope and regret. By expressing their best-case scenario for the present but then doubting its feasibility.

They might state something like the following: I wish I had enough money to buy a nice house in the suburbs. But let’s be real, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

Realists with idealist aspirations are more blunt. They admit the imperfection of their current state but express a belief that their fortunes might change down the line.

They might say something like the following: I don’t have enough money right now to buy a nice house in the suburbs. I might not have it for a while. But hopefully I’ll get a raise and a promotion eventually, and this will change.

Neither of these perspectives is inherently wrong. They’re just two different perspectives of the same reality.

That said, there is a common misconception that idealists with realist aspirations are more optimistic than realists with idealist aspirations. I believe the opposite is true.

Admitting the less-than-ideal realities of our world doesn’t qualify as pessimism. It’s simply brutal honesty.

On the other hand, wishing for a utopia yet doubting its feasibility reeks of pessimism.

This approach is particularly bleak because it offers up an alternative reality, but punts on providing a path to get there.

This lack of initiative is concerning.

For if we want to close the gap between how it is and how it should be, we need to work at it. And we need to believe that our work can make a difference.

We need to have hope. For hope brings action. And action brings about change.

These principles are true regardless of the way we look at our current situation. Whether we consider it from a realist perspective or an idealist one, we must commit to change we want to enact in our lives.

By committing to this change, we can close the gap between our reality and our utopia. We can find the joy and contentment we seek. And we can discover the fulfillment that comes from working at determining our own destiny.

The power is in our hands. We simply need to make use of it.

So, let’s not just ask: Wouldn’t it be great if…?

Let’s make it so.