Remember When it Rained?

Remember ?

When I was in Uni, I found an apartment to share with a lady. She had put the most delightful ad in the paper. It said:

“Looking for roommate
to share two-bedroom apartment.
Must love dogs, horses and God.
Not necessarily in that order.”

I couldn’t wait to call her and we hit it right off and I soon moved in. Well, all I had was a couple of suitcases, a milk crate, a little lamp, a mat and loads of books. In fact, all through my time in Uni, I did not have a bed!

A Sister!

After I found this wonderful apartment (on the third floor of a modern building with a huge swimming pool in the middle of the complex – that was thankfully open 24-hours a day for me), I thought I was the most fortunate woman ever. The lady, Susanna Furbay, and I got along like real sisters (neither of us had a sister, so we just made it up as we went along as to what that meant.)

She was the only woman I have ever known who could actually burn water, so I did all the cooking! She was a genius at rearranging our few pieces of furniture and in arranging grand parties for everyone we could think of – so they would bring us food. What a life it was!

Busy Life!

I worked a full-time job in the University hospital radiology department from 2PM to 10PM, Wednesdays through Sundays and every holiday shift. I also worked three nights (Thursday, Friday and Saturday after 10 PM) singing torch songs with my wonderful guitarist, Jerry Gerard. We entertained regularly at two different piano bars.

All the time left, I was either in the music lounge listening to classical music, struggling to learn Chinese calligraphy or trying to finish my studies (yes I did study somehow in between all the other things I did) or sleeping. I was tired often!

Anyway, I slept on my too-thin mat on the floor, surrounded by my books lined up alphabetically in specialty areas all around the walls. My little lamp sat on the milk crate beside my mat. After I would turn off the light, I would listen to the guitar music.

Personal Serenade

You see, the man who lived under us (his name was Hank), had his bedroom right under mine. And every night he would play his guitar (and very well) and I would fall asleep listening to him play.

Well every night, except any night when it was raining.

When It Rained

I had the most amazing habit (would do it still if I could get by with it) of going for long walks in the rain. The harder it rained the better for me. I just loved the feeling of the rain drops pelting my skin and soaking through all my clothes, until I could feel the silkiness of my skin against the fabric of my clothes and the Goosebumps that would rise when the wind blew hard against me.

I would walk until I was completely exhausted; all the while reviewing the day or some studies, think about life and cabbages and kings. When I could walk no longer, I would stumble back home and up the three, seemingly longer and steeper flights of stairs.

I would quietly open the door and head for the bathroom, strip off all my clothes, dry off, pull on my, what now seemed to be, toasty nightshirt and crawl into my little make-shift bed. I would almost instantly fall into a deep and restful sleep. I loved it. But I always missed my personal serenade.

Stalker or Sentinel?

I never knew that every night when I went walking in the rain, the guitar music stopped. Why you ask? Well it stopped because Hank always listened for my movements. And he had learned of my habit of walking in the rain.

Any time it was raining, he would listen closely for the sounds of my getting up and leaving. Every time I went out, he would follow me. Quietly and quickly he would dress and would silently and stealthily walk down the steps and out the big wooden doors into the driving rain. Walking far enough back I never even knew he was there.

Then one night, the rain and wind was so strong that I slipped and fell. As I lay there trying to recover, he was beside me, holding me and telling me it was all going to be alright.

He helped me home and confessed how he always walked with me because he was concerned for my safety. Needless to say, we became great and lasting friends. And it was always easier to walk together in the rain from then on.

Unseen & Unappreciated Friends

Sometimes we have friends who are walking with us that we never see -- and if we do think we see them -- we may never realise how very special and protective and loving they are – how understanding they are of us, just watching and listening from afar. How they are watching and helping in ways we can never understand or fully appreciate.

This seems strikingly true of the virtual world. Real friends (even some who can become real world friends) are there if you only open your eyes to them. When you find them, you must cherish them because you may one day stumble and fall and they will be there to help when you are hurting and afraid and confused and have no idea what to do or say or which way to turn.

Friends like that are just too valuable!

Thank you my secret friends for your watchfulness over me – as sentinels you stand with me even though I rarely see you. I will never be able to appreciate each one of you enough. However, this very poor, carte blanche expression of my heart-felt gratefulness is my humble tribute to your care and love.

Please accept this Sheridanne special, too-long, 90-second hug until I can find a way to do better.

The Hammer, the Nail and the Rose

The Rose
Lyrics by Bette Midler

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need.

I say love, it is a flower
And you, it's only seed.
It's the heart, afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.

It's the one who won't be taken
Who cannot seem to give.
And the soul, afraid of dying
That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed
That with the sun's love, in the spring
Becomes the rose


Being patient and being passive is actually not the same thing -- although from the outside they may look rather the same. You can wait your whole life for good fortune or even love to come your way, but there comes a time when you must take action. And any action always has a reaction or consequence. Any action you take can result in failure.

It is your choice to act, to wait, to walk away or run and hide. However, if you don’t act, you will never know the potential for success and personal joy from that success. The worst that can happen is that you will learn a new lesson to help you along to future wisdom. If you do not try you miss opportunities (like the “million dollar idea” you have every day) to grow and learn. The worst part of it is that these opportunities may not come again.

Be Bold

Being bold is the opposite of being passive. When you are bold, YOU and YOU alone choose your destination. You set your own course (especially recognising there are risks, consequences and the potential for loss or failure). Once you choose to be bold, you also can choose to “take it back”, to reverse directions or course correct your path if you see it is not taking you where you thought it would -- or where YOU wanted to go.

To be bold means you act – not with ruthless aggression or even anger or passive withdrawal -- but with determined and healthy energy. When you are bold, you reach out toward what you know you want and you move toward this goal – because you really do know it will not magically appear, no matter how long you wait or how much you wish for or want it.

Personal Application

For me, this means that the foreignness of boldness in all matters of friendship – especially in matters of the heart -- must be reconsidered. I have watched the passing of many dear friends and many more I have simply lost through my own fear or passivity or inertia. It is easy to write this, yet it will take the same boldness and courage I have in my business life to now redirect these energies -- or to at least work on a better balance.

So, just for today, just for this hour I am going to choose to act, not react – to be the hammer not the nail. Because, well just listen to the words of the song The Rose again....