Remembering the Geranium.

I am profoundly deaf. That means I'm deaf as a rock. I wasn't always. When I lost my hearing it was fairly traumatic. I owned three companies, all in the communications business. So being deaf and being in the communications business was sort of a tough concept to grasp. I struggled to learn to read lips and got pretty good at it. But I didn't venture out into public settings unless I had to. A friend of mine was giving a talk on public relations at a workshop in Boston. I wanted to go, so I signed up and went. The first speaker on the program turned out the lights to give his talk...a slide show. I could see the slides, but I couldn't figure out anything he said since the room was darkened. It was sort of a slap in the face...and it threw me into a instant funk. I left the workshop and went across the street from the hotel where there was a beautiful park. Although it was October, flowers were still in full bloom. I sat there staring at this red geranium that was at its peak. Without thinking, I started talking to the geranium. I told it, "Sure, you're blooming. But winter is almost here, and when it comes you are going to freeze to death. You'll be gone." I got no reply. But as I was watching this fully blooming geranium, I realized that it didn't care if winter was going to take it. It was going to bloom right up to the minute a frosty night would take it. I thought to myself, "Damn. That's what I want to do. I want to be blooming no matter what. I want to be in full bloom even if I am deaf and blind and ninety years old. I think of the red geranium often...and I blossom and grow.