I Look Good?

“Mommah! Mommah!” I heard his little voice coming up the stairs. As he turned the corner, “there you are.” He came up the last step as he saw me gathering the laundry. He wobbled to a stand and with a big goofy grin asked me, “I look good?” I couldn’t help but beam at my youngest wonderful sense of humor. This is what I saw:

Quality

Note: This is a repost of something I wrote back in 2005.

From late childhood through adolescents I was told over and over again by teachers, parents, even my grandparent how important it is to have an understanding of history. “History has a way of repeating itself if we don’t learn the lessons from the previous generations.” My grandfather told me when I was about 8, that thought has stuck with me. As I have been researching the history of quality I came across a website that was in memory of Homer Sarasohn. You are probably wondering who is Homer Sarasohn? (As I was when I first came across it.) So I give to you a brief history lesson in American and Japanese quality taken from A Lesson Learned and a Lesson Forgotten by Robert Chapman Wood.

In 1946, shortly after American occupation of Japan began, General Douglas MacArthur urgently wanted Japan to mass-produce radios so that U.S. Occupation authorities could reach every Japanese village quickly with its messages. A young radio product engineer during World War II who had become radar engineer at MIT and Raytheon shortly after the war, received a telegram from General MacArthur requesting he report to headquarters at the earliest possible date. At 29 years of age, Homer Sarasohn was instructed to help the Japanese produce radios and communications equipment.

When arriving in Japan, Sarasohn found that the Japanese knew about electronics, yet the philosophy on production was making half of your products okay and throwing the other half out.

A couple of years of unreliable radios Sarasohn along with Charles Protzman a Western Electric engineer concluded quality products would never be produced in Japan without basic modern management training. Sarasohn and Protzman developed a training course that would teach the Japanese the basics that they needed to know.

‘The Occupation's Economics and Social Section objected to the seminar."They said we might be too successful," recalls Sarasohn. It was perhaps the understatement of the century. But both the ESS people and the CCS engineers made 20-minute presentations before MacArthur. The ESS warned of the perils of Japanese competition. Sarasohn insisted that it would ultimately be more practical to teach the defeated and starving nation to be self-sufficient. After both sides had finished, says Sarasohn, MacArthur turned to him, snapped, "Go do it," and walked out of the room.’

On the first page of the courses text, a motto used at Newport News Shipbuilding was cited: "We shall build good ships here; at a profit if we can, at a loss if we must, but always good ships."

The gist of the message that was imparted to his Japanese pupils:

Every company needs a concise, complete statement of the purpose of the company's existence, one that provides a well-defined target for the idealistic efforts of the employees.

Companies must put quality ahead of profit, pursuing it rigorously with techniques such as statistical quality control.

Every employee deserves the same kind of respect follow managers receive, and good management is "democratic management." Lower-level employees need to be listened to by their bosses.


Sarasohn and Protzman's pupils went on to become a Who's Who of Japan's electronics industry. They included Matsushita Electric's Masaharu Matsushita; Mitsubishi Electric's Takeo Kato; Fujitsu's Hanzou Omi; Sumitomo Electric's Bunzaemon Inoue; Akio Morita and Masaru Ibuka, the founders of what is now Sony Corp. This cadre of leaders spread the principles throughout Japanese industry.

I wonder if much of this is lost here in the U.S. now. The evening news tells of CEO’s milking U.S. companies in the name of money and greed. It seems to be all about profitability and “shareholder value”. I understand a company can not survive without being profitable but at what expense?

So this is my brief history lesson for what it is worth. If you are interested in more information I recommend:

A Lesson Learned and a Lesson Lost: http://deming.eng.clemson.edu/pub/den/files/lesson.txt

And Honoring Homer http://honoringhomer.net/

The Lincoln Memorial

It was an odd occasion I found myself in last week. Sitting at Subway (think sandwiches not NYC) with just my husband across from me. Most of our conversation was centered on the house and all the projects that needed to be done. We also talked about my oldest that had just learned about our country’s 16th president, Abraham Lincoln. I was telling hubby about how excited little K was when he came home telling me all the things he had learned about good ol’ Abe Lincoln. I asked hubby if there was anyway he could take the following week off. He said no. I told him I would like to take the kids to visit his family who live on the outskirts of DC. Little K has the week off from school and I thought this would be a great moment for the kids to see the family AND the Lincoln Memorial.

So I made the drive, me, my two little ones. The first day we spent at my sister-in-law’s with her two boys that are close to my oldest age. That evening we went to Chuck E Cheese with almost every one of my in-laws for dinner. My boys and their cousins had a great time. I had forgotten how expensive Chuck E Cheese is. But we all had a good time and the kids got some cheap toys that lasted less than 5 minutes.

My father in-law, who is recently retired, has volunteered to be our tour guide, which I am very grateful for. Today we took the kids to the Smithsonian, the Lincoln Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial and the Korean War Memorial. Little K was so happy to get his picture taken with Lincoln. He is looking forward to taking it in for his share day at school. But I think the kid’s favorite part was the Bugs exhibit at the Smithsonian and of course the dinosaurs (which we go to almost every time we are here).

It is odd having to do the kids bath time all by myself. Typically hubby does that job. I am not so good at it. I got yelled at by my oldest for not doing it right. Oh, well.

I Must Admit to Some Tree Hugger Tendencies.

As I have watched much of the forests come down in the last 3 years in my area, I have been curious about what we are doing to our environment; our air quality. My understanding of science is pretty basic, but in elementary I learned we get the oxygen we breathe from trees and other green living plants that surround us. The recent landslide that killed 1,500+ people is being blamed on the recent rains and the logging industry, even though they pulled out over 10 years ago. Recently I found a climate change calculator. It allowed me to select average household for questions such as how much electricity and natural gas does your household use (so I didn't have to go searching through all of my bills last year and figure out my average). It also took into consideration the gas mileage of my car and the amount of miles I drove last year. I drive a 4 cylinder manual transmission. My gas mileage is an average of 27 miles per gallon. With all that information it calculated my household has an annual CO2 emissions of 47.8 tons. It also calculated the annual number of new trees needed to absorb that amount of CO2, which are 144 trees. I was shocked. I was expecting something closer to 90 trees for a lifetime. If you would like to calculate the number of trees it takes to sustain your household, you can at: http://www.americanforests.org/resources/ccc/

Top 10 Reasons Why Trees Are Valuable and Important
1) Trees Produce Oxygen
1 Mature tree can give enough oxygen to support 10 living breathing people. The forest also acts as a giant filter that cleans the air we breath.

2) Trees Clean the Soil
Trees can either store harmful pollutants or actually change the pollutant into less harmful forms. Trees act as a filter for our soil.

3) Trees Control Noise Pollution
Trees muffle urban noise almost as effectively as stone walls.

4) Trees Slow Storm Water Runoff
Flash flooding can be dramatically reduced by a forest or by planting trees.

5) Trees Are Carbon Sinks
6) Trees Clean the Air
7) Trees Shade and Cool
8) Trees Act as Windbreaks
A windbreak can lower home heating bills up to 30% and have a significant effect on reducing snow drifts.

9) Trees Fight Soil Erosion
Tree roots bind the soil and their leaves break the force of wind and rain on soil. Trees fight soil erosion, conserve rainwater and reduce water runoff and sediment deposit after storms.

10) Trees Increase Property Values
Trees can increase the property value of your home by 15% or more.

http://forestry.about.com/gi/pages/mproduct.htm
Whats was your CO2 number?

Out of Her Element

I used to live in this metropolitan suburb in my early 20’s. So I didn’t think much of moving back for such a short period as I had lived here before.

I feel as though my life has been incredibly blessed (my life’s not perfect but I know it is by God’s grace I am as comfotable as I am). I also know within my heart I am supposed to give something back, I just don’t know what the timing will be.

The first homeless person I met was a middle aged African American lady who I noticed in the local park, not far from our condo. We had walked up to a small park and I noticed her sitting on one of the picnic tables’ bench. Previously, I had done a little work with some of the county shelters, mostly helping out with holiday fundraising, but I was aware enough of what the system is suppose to look like. While my son and husband were playing on the playscape, I went over and talked to her. I had never in my life gone out and purposely sought out a conversation with a homeless person, but my heart urged me to go speak to her. I did, starting with hello and as I did so I glanced over at my husband who I could tell thought I was crazy. She spoke to me about not knowing where she was going to sleep that night and not knowing what she was going to do. Maybe I was the 100th person who was trying to help this lady find her way, maybe I was the 1st. I told her about some of the shelters I knew of. She asked which bus stop should she get off at and since I have never ridden the bus I was unable to answer that question. I told her I would be back with an answer. I gathered my family as dusk was approaching, then I went home and called the shelters. Or I should say tried to call the shelters. Equipped with the internet, yellow pages and a telephone I had trouble finding a crisis line, how are homeless people suppose to find it???? It the hours are M-F, 9am -5pm; they seem so easy to get a hold of when you want to give them money!!! Finally I found one and called just to check, they would take her if she showed up. My step brother had stopped by while I was looking for the phone number and he drove me back up to the park as I didn't want to go alone. I gave her the phone number of the shelter and $2 for a phone call and bus fare. She tried to refuse the money, but I just asked her to use it wisely for I have been blessed with a little extra. I haven’t seen her at that park since and we go there almost every evening.

The second homeless person I met just a couple of days ago was convinced he was a WWII veteran. Honestly, he looked a too little young to me to really be a WWII vet, maybe old enough to be a Vietnam vet, but that is even questionable now I guess. No matter, apparently he had lost his marbles. I still don’t believe that mental illness is any reason for a person to live without a roof over their head. He was trying to sell little American flags during a recent local festival. We just passed him by like every other person that evening, but of course I felt guilty. I passed him again with my sister and couldn’t help but give him at little more than enough for coffee.

Within the last 2 months I have encountered more homeless than I ever did in the 4 years I lived here, 4 years ago. There are more that I have noticed around here than I have actually come in contact with.

Then today at the gas station, as I was putting gas in my car, a man approached me asking for a couple of dollars for gas. I let him have less than 2 gallons of gas as I wasn’t going to give him cash. The gas station attendant came out and said the man frequently does that there. I had been scammed, or at least it felt like it. He was driving an old beat up car. Who knows what the real story is.

All this reality is leaving me wanting to move back to my sheltered community as I feel so naïve and out of place. And there is a new yearning to eventually try to do something, in some small way, to fix the system that is apparently broke in more ways than one; hopefully my naiveté won’t go away.

Elizabeth

Betty is probably in her 70’s and has osteoporosis. As far as I could tell last year she lived alone, or at least I thought. She lives in a 1960’s lakefront ranch, which is well maintained but has never been updated. She and the older widowed lady next door were surprisingly supportive of my quest to put sewers in the neighborhood (I didn’t tend to get much fan fare from the senior citizens on my block). But what really struck me about Betty is she is the only one who seemed to realized what the sewer project was costing me out of my own pocket. I had people volunteer to help pass out information and get signatures on the petition, which most quit after they saw how difficult it really was. Some of them I know make 3 times as much as my husband and I. None of them offered to help pay for the copying or creating signs to remind neighbors about the meetings except for Betty. She was the only senior citizen that I came across who was thankful for what I was trying to do, offered financial assistance, and any other help I might need. I declined the offer, but her offer of support and enthusiasm for the project helped keep me going when I wondered if it was really ever going to happen.

A couple weeks ago, on a warm sunny morning as I was pushing my youngest in a stroller through our neighborhood, we came across Betty and a male companion walking and enjoying the beautiful day also. They were holding hands, talking up a storm, giggling, and flirting like you would expect to see in a much, much younger couple. I’m not sure who the man is but he certainly puts a bright smile on her face. When we stopped to chat, he seemed very happy also. They had that beam that people in love have for one another. It is nice to be reassured that love, the type of love that breaths life into your soul, has no age barriers.

I’ve Been Taken Hostage!

I am being held captive, though I am only now realizing this. My captor speaks with a slow childish drawl. He seems to have problems pronouncing his words, except for the word 'candy'. I can make that one out very clearly. He can count, “1, 5, 3, 4". While trying to get ready for the day this morning, my hostage taker insisting he follow me down the stair, apparently there wasn’t enough time to finish getting ready. “Go!” He demanded, trying to turn my body to face down the stairs. “Walk!” I wasn’t sure if he meant I should start walking, or he was going to walk. “Ifford!” He demanded once down to the TV room. “Time out or ask nicely!” I rebutted. “Ifford, please.” While he took his seat. I pressed the play button on the DVD player. He immediately jumped up, pushed me into the kitchen. “Stay!” he barked. He returned to the TV room. I peered around the corner to spy him dancing to the Clifford, The Big Red Dog, intro song. The coast was clear. I quietly crept past the room and made my way back upstairs to finish getting ready.

My captor is about 2.5 feet and waddles when he walks. Most strangers think he is really cute; he can be charming when absolutely needed. He is prone to whining fits, has a good throwing arm (I am always amazed at how far he can throw his food), he can climb tall buildings, I think. He eats cookies partially then tries to put them back. If you see the man who help to make my captor (he looks alot like my captor but much larger and without the waddle), please tell him his wife needs a long vacation without the “cute” captor.

Passage

In order to understand our own passage I think we need to understand the one of the people we come from. This story starts with the past and hopefully makes its way to the present.

I grew up in a multigenerational Mormon (otherwise known as the Latter Day Saints) family. My parents are Mormon, my grandparents were Mormon. About five generations behind me, on my father’s side, my ancestors blazed a trail that started in Denmark for one, in England for the other. Both helped with the construction of what was to become Salt Lake City. One ended his years in Mexico and the other just outside of Salt Lake City. The generations between my pioneer ancestors and me have been devoted Mormons. I will always honor where I came from even though my own passage has caused me to leave the faith in which I was raised.

Thomas Steed

I recently came across my paternal grandmother’s grandfather journal. In it he, Thomas Steed, tells of his trip from becoming Mormon in Worcestershire, England in 1840, at the age of 14 to near his end at 84 years old in Farmington, Utah.

It starts with his parents which he describes his mother being, “of medium size, patient, very religious, naturally kind, open hearted and generous to a fault, giving almost her last crust to anyone in need.” His father (I can’t even think how far back of a grandfather that would make him to me) was “about six feet tall, heavy set (about 200 pounds), powerful, sober, hardworking, honest, industrious, thoroughly reliable. For a number of years he was the night watchman in the town of Malvern, England and later the foreman of the public highway.”

In 1835, when Thomas was 9 years old, his parents left the Church of England and joined United Brethren, opening their home to hold meetings. ‘I was in my fourteenth year and almost a skeptic in regard to the religion of the day. In the Sunday school I had asked my teacher if anybody knew that God lived, and if Jesus was the Redeemer crucified 1800 years ago. He answered: “My boy, you ought not to ask such a question, you ought to believe; I don’t know and I don’t’ know who could tell you!” The same question I asked of a number of other individuals who I thought could know, and received the same answer. That caused me to think that there was nothing in religion, if nobody knew anything about these things, and I made up my mind to have nothing to do with it.’ On my own personal note, I find it ironic that this same spirit caused one of his great granddaughters, me, to leave the faith which brought him to America; the same faith that him and the generations between us were so devoted to.

By no means in my American History class, 13 years ago, did I consider that one of my relatives actually lived what I had been learning. At the age of 18 with some of his Uncles, Thomas Steed, set out for Nauvoo, Illinois from their homes in England. Lying there in the text before me, my great, great, great grandfather was telling of arriving in New Orleans in 1844, riding on the Little Maid of Iowa, perhaps her last voyage, up the Mississippi River until they reached Nauvoo.

Shortly after the murder of the church’s prophet and founder, Joseph Smith. he moved with his uncles and their families along with his new wife to Keokuck, Iowa I think in spring of 1846. There they worked and saved for the journey west. “In June, 1849, the great calamity of Asiatic cholera spread its awful devastations through the United States and was very sever in Keokuck also. Very many were called at a few hours’ warning; a number of our Mormon brethren and sisters were taken.”

With four wagons, nines oxen, five cows, two mules, and one horse all shared by 10 members of his extended family they fled Keokuck and started west. Shortly beyond the Missouri River they joined up with 50 other Mormons pioneers in August of 1850. They traveled the Fort Kearney and the crossing of the South Platte.”


To be continued later………....

Whole Foods

On my way home today I stopped by Whole Foods Market and ran in to pick just a handful of things up. As I was pushing my grocery cart to the check out, I stopped just as I pulled in. From the corner I noticed an older man trying to cut me off so he could get ahead of me. I was so amazed at the spectacle that I looked at my cart then at the stuff he had jumbled in his hands and said, “Go ahead” a little bewildered. It all made sense when the lady ahead of me who just finished her transaction told the puzzled cashier, “This is my husband, we forgot a few things.”

I live a life full of males, my house is full of them, I work in a very male dominated industry and I have always had at least a few close male friends, which is great, it keeps me in the know for my little guys. Plus, it is not that there aren’t any women in my life, I am very close with my sisters and I have a group of girlfriends.

About the same time my ex-husband came back into my life, before he was even my husband, I had started to spend a lot of time with Frank; the company he worked for and mine were working on a project together that I was assigned to write the manual for it. Frank and I had an easy, natural friendship. This particular time Frank had to take a customer and his wife out see a game of hockey and to the local Chop House, he called to let me know he would like it if I went with them. That night he kissed me for the first time as we were waiting for the shuttle to come and pick us up. When he kissed me it was different, somehow more special than others before and as he held my hand, it felt protected.

When you are walking the line between a friendship and a relationship someone has to take that jump of faith and tell the other how they feel. Neither of us did that, so we fell back into our friendship, nothing was mentioned about the kiss. And I started seeing the man who would eventually become my ex-husband more seriously. Frank and I stayed friends though my marriage. As I was going through the divorce Frank would always tell me how he had written me a couple of letters but never sent it, several times. I didn’t understand if it was something to help me through a hard time or something more. I wish Frank had sent me those letters because then maybe I wouldn’t have lost a great friend, maybe I still would have. It wasn’t until well after our communication slowed did I realize what may have been going on. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything, but we will never know. I wouldn’t have thought that older man at Whole Foods today was so strange if he had just said, “Excuse me that is my wife ahead of you”.