So far, HUMANS OF THE PFISTER has captured stories of life, liberty, happiness, augustness, education, and fear. The Humans have been so willing to share their stories, whether happy or sad, simple or philosophical, funny or serious, unique or universal. So I can’t wait to hear what they have to share with me and you this month. Our theme?
A month of gratitude.
I will be asking Humans this month for three different kinds of gratitudes:
Thanks for something that can fit into a 1’x1′ box.
Thanks for a human or group of humans.
Thanks for a something non-physical—
whether it’s an idea, a value, a force–
as long as it’s something we can’t see physically.
If you don’t get a chance to come to The Pfister and talk to me, then please leave your three stories of thanks in the Comments Box below or on Facebook (my or the Hotel’s page). I’ll publish them on the blog as they come in!
Without further ado, here are your first three thankful Humans of The Pfister:
This gentleman visited Pamela’s studio while I was there, genuinely interested in why she was intrigued by the architecture of the Hotel (he had stopped to read the sign outside her studio). He was at the Hotel to volunteer at an entrepreneurship awards ceremony for BizStarts.
I give thanks to my eyeballs, my sight. Just imagine trying to describe this hotel. It’s so beautiful. Try describing this, for example, to Stevie Wonder. I don’t take my eyesight for granted. One of the most beautiful things that I’ve ever seen? Just people, I guess. Just people. And the act of love.
I give thanks to lots of people. I was literally raised by Milwaukee. I grew up in the foster care system, so I bounced around a lot. Even as an adult, I struggled with homelessness. But you know what? There are a lot of good things in this world. Even in the crevasses.
I give thanks to Love because when you think about it, what’s life without Love. I mean, even Hitler loved somebody. Didn’t he love that one woman? You know, people in the urban community have a saying: “Love, bro. Love. Just Love.” I don’t know, we just say it to each other. Maybe that means solidarity? I deal with a lot of non-profits and their favorite word is “unity.” Everyone’s about unity. And that’s because you need love. Even though yesterday I was dealing with some stuff, telling myself “You don’t need love,” I know that I really do need it. Think about it: when you were two years old, you couldn’t do anything. You needed someone to love you, right?
This gentleman just lost his mother last week and was dealing with a viable mixture of grief and regret and second thoughts. At the time I approached him, it was difficult for him to open up, but he did share a “stick figure” gratitude about his mother. There is more that we talked about that is not recorded here.
I give thanks for my mother. Over the past year, I realized that one of my main personality traits is that I love helping people. I’m a software engineer by trade, but now I’m what you could call a sales engineer. I’m the “architect” that helps engineers with their problems. My mom, well, she touched a lot of people, too. I have five biological siblings and count thirteen total as my brothers and sisters. But all told, I’d estimate that she had at least twenty-five foster kids over the years. She was a good person.
This gentleman was volunteering for BizSmarts. Alex introduced me to him.
I give thanks for belts. You know, we need a belt to hold our pants up. You present yourself as an example to others when your pants are held up. There are some people, though, who walk around with their pants down, pants sagging. In other people’s eyes, they lose respect, even if they don’t deserve it. I don’t disrespect people who don’t wear belts, but perspective is a big thing.
I give thanks to my mother, my father, and God. If these didn’t exist, I wouldn’t exist. The greatest thing they have given me is my life.
I give thanks for my visionary thoughts. I think outside the box. I think of the impossible. If someone says “No” I say “Yes.” I do almost the opposite. If someone says “Why can’t we do this?” I say “You’re not doing enough.”