Health stuff

I keep forgetting to update on the big health issue.

I'm going for my breast biopsy on Wednesday, first thing in the morning. As prep, I've had to avoid aspirin and acetaminophen-containing products, which has been a bit of an inconvenience given my current cold.

Basically, they're going to be doing a type of mammogram to locate the offending area, and then poking it with a wire to get a sample. The area gets numbed, and the entry area is very small, coverable with a bandaid, but boy, I'm not looking forward to it. Just the thought of an extended mammo is annoying enough. Anyway, I think it takes about an hour. I'll reread the material before I go.

I'm not thinking too much about results... except when I get occasional reminders. Like those damned pink ribbons. I mean, I'm grateful that people are focused on a cure, and I've contributed myself, but all the drama isn't for me.

The new boyfriend is coming with me, at his suggestion, so I'll have someone to drive me home. I just hope he doesn't make too much of a deal out of it (i.e. I'll love you no matter what, etc.). I really hate having to manage through people's own shit that they're projecting on the shit I'm going through. It's bad enough I have to go through it. I don't need people to say much beyond good luck and, if they've gone through it, what their experience was, if they want to share. That's helpful, and it doesn't make assumptions about what I'm thinking or feeling.

Blurg, indeed!

Interesting what the universe feeds back when you put stuff out there.

Following last week's slough of despond, and totally separate from this blog, I got two contacts from the past, one personal and one professional. Both were nourishing.

The personal one came from a woman I'd lost contact with inadvertently. She'd actually tried to contact me a couple of weeks ago by posting a comment on one of my other blogs. For whatever reason, I hadn't noticed there was a comment to be moderated, and when I did, there she was. We linked up by phone, and it was great to hear her voice. She's always been really supportive of me -- even when I wasn't supporting myself -- and the affirmation is much needed right now.

The professional contact was a bit of a surprise: the Princeton tour lady. Given her hectic schedule, she and I never did get back together last fall, but I became a fan on her company Facebook page to keep up-to-date on the business. Early last week someone flamed one of her posts, and I commented back in her defense, without giving it much more thought than it being a nice thing to do. A few days later I found a reply to my November e-mail to her in my mailbox, thanking me for the defense and asking me for a few dates when we could get together for lunch. Wow! It appears this social networking thing can really work.

We got together yesterday for a quick bite and intense conversation. I learned a lot in an hour! Some of what she said supported what the ranger had covered at the NPS training the day before: sheer facts and figures might interest us geeks, but the vast majority of our guests want to be entertained. You've got to make the location and the history come alive for them. She also offered up some potential alternatives to supplement the day-in, day-out uncertainty of whether people will show up for tours.

She also advised me to keep start-up costs low by not going too crazy with tchotchkes right up front. My thinking exactly. Invest in logo treatment and maybe get staff shirts (like one, for me) through Zazzle or some other on-demand business. I've never been one for giveaways, so if I can sink the money elsewhere (like a good website), I'd rather do that.

All that said, she didn't seem very optimistic that people would want to explore New Jersey when New York and Philadelphia are so close. Acknowledged. But don't'cha think the state could be doing a better job of creating a narrative of the state that doesn't start with the shore and end with Atlantic City casinos? There are an awful lot of really lonely people staffing historic sites in this state, and they'd love the company. Somehow we didn't get much farther in that line of discussion.

She did get me thinking more about blogging as a way to position myself as the guide for quirky New Jersey destinations. Let's face it: I can write, and I do have a little bit of a backlog of material already, given the jaunts I do when I'm bored. There are an awful lot of people who are covering the state in various ways, so who knows, maybe I could cross-link with them. My posts would have to be a lot punchier, but I could probably then get more mileage out of a given hot spot. She told me that she's getting up to a million hits on her site per month, but it doesn't translate that quickly into tour traffic.

I didn't mention this to her, but I've also been thinking of doing some sort of New Jersey book through an internet publisher like blurb.com. Because they print on demand, it's not like I'd have to sink a lot of money into inventory; I could promote it via the blog and leave some samples with local indie bookstores for consideration. Granted, I'd make more money marketing it myself, but I'll get it figured out.

Lots to think about, lots to consider. I was thrilled that she's willing to keep the dialogue going, and perhaps even to cross-market when I get something up and running.

This networking thing sure beats sitting and ruminating in my apartment on a blustery January day.

The Ranger Jones... again

My gut keeps telling me park ranger. My wallet tells me otherwise.

Last week I registered on the government jobs website to be alerted when ranger jobs come up in the area. Over the weekend, two opportunities popped up -- Governor's Island and Ellis Island -- both for seasonal work. Hmm. Then, this week I attended a volunteer training session and was thoroughly inspired. The ranger gave a really great orientation on the Park Service and their approach to giving tours.

First off -- the Park Service orientation almost had me a little teary, harking back to the out and out sobbing I did while watching the recent Ken Burns documentary, The National Parks: America's Best Idea. Why does this stuff affect me so much? And why do I feel so protective of it? Interestingly, as the ranger reviewed the art of giving tours, she noted that the goal of helping visitors understand the parks is to build a sense of stewardship. It makes sense: people take care of what they own. Every American owns the National Parks, and no-one can stop any of us from going to one.

Personally, the more I travel, the more I appreciate how varied and magnificent our country is. And more often than not, if there's stunning landscape or historical significance in a given place, it's been enclosed in a national park that you can visit. It's kind of like having a friend who loans you their apartment when you travel to your favorite location. You always know there's someplace you can go to get the atmosphere you're seeking. How neat is it to be part of the organization that makes that happen for people?

As far as giving tours, we learned about the distinction between delivering just the facts and making the story come alive for visitors. It wasn't all that much different from what I'd come to observe on my own, but it was a good reminder to get an understanding of the group's knowledge level and what approach will reach them best. Like so much of communication, it's not so much what you tell them as what they hear and grasp on their own. The ranger noted that we're special people in a way: we're history geeks who really get into the topic we're sharing. Not everyone is going to share our interest in all of the stories, but it's great when you can make the connection for someone, and spark that interest.

So... I'm sitting there all sparked, myself, thinking how great it would be to do this kind of stuff every day. And I'm wondering how the heck I'd be able to support myself on the salary. Do I start writing like crazy and taking photos like a fiend and trying to sell my stuff? Do I still try to do the tour company stuff on the side, in my off hours?

Somewhere there's an answer. I'm feeling a lot more inspired that I did last week, and a lot more confident that I can make something work. I just don't know what it is yet.

Happy New Year. Blurg.

I think I'm full into the winter doldrums.

Had an invitation to a friend's house for brunch on New Year's but blew it off. Been cocooning, using the crummy, cold weather as an excuse. It's also given me plenty of time to mull over my inaction for the past several months.

Friends are kind enough to point out that I've been volunteering and learning more about the tour business, which is absolutely true. And I've done some writing, and thinking. But it still feels insufficient. I am not that much closer to anything profit-generating. Blurg, indeed.

So today I'm working up a schedule. There. I've said it. Now I have to be accountable to something concrete. A schedule. Get myself out of the easy chair and into the world, even if I'm just doing the research work and making contacts while sitting at Panera.

I think I've gotten myself too bogged in the grand scheme of things and not focused on the details. Big, grand things are scary. Details are a bit more manageable and feel more comfortable. This is nothing I didn't already know. It's just the matter of doing, rather than mulling. We all know how good I am at mulling. If mulling were a marketable product, I'd be a millionaire.

So... instead of thinking about how much I don't want to lead huge groups of senior citizens through the Museum of the Obvious, I'll think about how I become more of a niche guide. How do I market myself as an authority, someone who tells good stories and brings interesting people to interesting places for interesting experiences.

I did two more tours at Ellis Island yesterday, one being a group of two: a young couple from Germany who were curious as to how some relatives were sent back after trying to emigrate in the '50's. It became a custom tour as they asked questions up front that lent more to what's usually the last part of the discussion. I figured that since it was just the two of them, I'd modify the sequence a bit, and it worked very well.

Honestly, I was kind of impressed with myself. I know I forgot to mention a point or two on both tours, but who was to know? And I also got the Germans a little more information for further research on their emigration questions, based, in part, on some research I've been doing on my own family.

Of course, I'll also have to think about what I need to do to make money while I'm being a niche guide. The Ellis Island stuff has been helpful in keeping me from cocooning totally, but it ain't paying the bills. Do I find a not-so-high-level job that just about pays the food and board but gives me some latitude to follow my bliss? Do those jobs still exist for people with my skill set, or have they all become soul-sucking, 60 hour per week ordeals?

The motivating force here: do I go back to a life of quiet desperation, or do I do the hard stuff that gives me the autonomy I want? The old bromide is right: nobody ever plans to fail. They fail to plan.

Blurg.

Success!

Just before I left for Ellis Island yesterday, the volunteer coordinator e-mailed to tell me that the person I was supposed to train had cancelled for the day. I'd be on my own at the desk, and my tour. Okay, no biggie. Originally I'd agreed to fill the day so this person could come in, but no worries. In fact, I reasoned that it would be better -- I'd have more time to focus on reviewing for my tour.

When I got to the information desk on the island, I noticed that there already appeared to be visitors walking around. I hadn't checked the schedule, but apparently they were running earlier boats in the expectation that there would be more visitors between Christmas and New Years. I'd been wondering what attendance would look like: it was a chilly day, but there are a ton of people in the city on vacation this week, and when you visit New York, the Statue of Liberty is one of the places to go. Tourists aren't going to skip it just because it's cold.

If the day was going to be hectic, at least it was starting out favorably. The first ranger at the desk was very chatty and friendly. She encouraged me to apply for a ranger job and gave me all kinds of helpful hints on making sure the application would get attention during the next hiring cycle. And when the park superintendent came by, she was sure to introduce me. Very nice overall.

I was also surprised by the appearance of another volunteer. While she wasn't on the schedule, some of her friends planned to visit the island and she wanted to show them around. We agreed that I'd handle the morning tour, and she'd grab the afternoon. I was also anticipating that Tracy and Roberta would be coming by, so I bravely offered to take both tours out if they hadn't made it to the island by the time the first one goes out at 11:30.

As more and more people came to the island, our sign up list for the morning tour grew longer and longer. Usually we cut it off at 25 people, but by the time we gathered everyone at the 3D map to start the discussion, 30 people had assembled. Wow. Huge. In a way, I was kind of relieved to do my first tour in front of a large group. There will always be someone who isn't paying attention, but if it's a group of three and two of them are bored, it's a bigger tragedy than if there are two distracted people in a group of 20. Thus I wouldn't take it personally if someone drifted. I quickly found a couple of friendly, engaged faces in the crowd and drew some energy from them when I needed it.

I'd told myself that as long as I remembered the basic flow of the talk, I'd be fine. While the Ferry Building exhibit offers great visual cues, the opening talk isn't quite as intuitive, so I made a couple of notes to refer to to make sure I covered some basic points. For the most part it worked out well, and surprisingly I got a few laughs in as well. And I was able to keep the full tour down to 45 minutes, including the transit time to the exhibit. Not bad, overall.

So I made it through fine, no butterflies, no disasters. Getting back to an earlier post, I think it comes down to doing something that's truer to who I am. I've always hated doing presentations, and following big ones at work I used to report back, "No one died, nothing burned down," but then those talks were usually about something I wasn't so interested in. This time, when I had the chance to tell an compelling story, I wasn't inclined to be so cynical about the outcome.

In the afternoon, Tracy and Roberta arrived about a half hour before the scheduled tour, so the other volunteer offered to take the 2:30 group while I gave my buddies a private tour, both through the restricted area to the Ferry Building, and then through the Registry Building. Once we were back in the museum I felt a little silly hanging with friends in my park volunteer getup, but fortunately nobody tagged along, expecting a tour. Now that would have been interesting.

Medical stuff and the moment of truth

First things first: last Wednesday I saw the breast surgeon for the long-awaited appointment. The whole thing turned out to be very brief -- a check up first from the physician's assistant, and then from the surgeon herself. Of course, neither felt anything, but based on my mammo films, the surgeon is sending me to the breast center at one of the local hospitals to get a stereotactic biopsy. Basically, they use 3-D imaging to find the area in question, and then they guide a wire there to grab the offending item for biopsy. They also leave a marker behind (Kilroy was here, I guess.). How nice. For the first time in my life (outside of dental fillings), I'll have a foreign object planted in me. I guess these things start piling up as you get older. Whatever.

The breast center called today to let me know they got my records/films from the surgeon. They'll review them within the week and call to schedule an appointment. Likely I won't be going in until at least the third week of January. Oh, joy. That gives me plenty of time to call my new insurance carrier to assure I'm covered and all the appropriate paperwork is filed. Ugh.

On a really good health note, Dad is out of rehab and back home. He's healing well and ambling about nicely.

Next: the moment of truth. Earlier today I got an e-mail from the volunteer coordinator from Ellis Island, asking if I can cover another date next week when nobody will be there. Oh, wow. I have the process stuff down pat for the most part, but it would be my first time doing tours without a veteran volunteer there. Well, I've got to get my feet wet sometime, right? I'm sure I'll be fine; as I often told my speechwriting clients, when you're the 'authority,' nobody knows when you've omitted something. And worst case, I can give a brief spiel at the start and then unleash folks on the exhibits set up in the ferry building. They're pretty self-explanatory, though it's admittedly more fun and insightful to get the live narrative.

I just ran through my talk without having to consult notes that much, and it ran just under an hour, so I think I'll be fine with a few more rehearsals. Perhaps I'll even do a dry run or two on the island later this week. I'm not especially concerned about being perfect from the start, as I'll refine the patter over time. I just don't want to sound unprepared, or run over my time. It'll all be fine.

My head is full of history

It's been a busy ten days or so, between two days at Ellis Island, the night tour of the Fort Hancock garrison, and my dad being in the hospital for a knee replacement. Dad's doing fine, now in rehab, and apparently doing much better than the docs and therapists expected. The other day he was marveling at the negative attitudes of the 'old people' there, most of whom are probably younger than he. Thankfully, he's never been a complainer. He'll speak up when something's wrong, but he won't make a mountain out of a molehill.

So... Ellis Island. There's nothing quite like reporting to work at a national monument, especially after driving over the bridge from Liberty State Park. I park in a lot behind the Ferry Building and walk a covered passageway to the Registry Building, and past the National Park Service offices to a smaller office for Save Ellis Island. There's plenty to do before the first visitor ferry arrives: sign in, photocopy handouts, get a walkie-talkie from the NPS interpretation office, and then walk out to the empty first floor of the museum to put out signage and arrange the information desk just so. And then when the visitors arrive, there's generally a stream of people with questions that may or may not be related to the Ferry Building:

• When's the next ferry to New York? (We have a handy sign to show them.)
• Where do I find my grandfather's name on the wall? (Outside, behind this building, take those doors over there.)
• Where's the restroom? (Doors right behind us, to the right.)
• Where can I look at immigration records? (What years? Between 1892 and 1924, go to the history center through the doors behind us. Before 1892, check CastleGarden.org. After 1924, there's microfilm at the National Archives.)
• Is there someplace to eat? (Cafe is on the opposite side of the building, but no, you can't bring beverages back into the museum.)
• The Ellis Island movie in Theater 1 -- what's that about? (Uh, Picasso?)
  

So far I've met two of the more experienced volunteers, and by the time our day ends at around 4 p.m., we've become fast friends. The mornings tend to be slower than the afternoons, so we've had a good chance to get acquainted before the 11:30 tour. So far I've met two retired grade school principals and a marketing professional who's pretty much in the same boat as I am, career wise. Tremendously helpful and bright, all seem to share a bit of a sarcastic sense of humor; I'll get along fine.

We also work with the rangers to a lesser degree -- there's always at least one behind the larger information desk next to us, available to answer any questions we can't address. Some of them are a real hoot; one the other day was regaling us with stories of her days at Gateway National Recreation Area and strange things that wash ashore at the park's beaches. Another one of the rangers was actually a Save Ellis Island volunteer before getting his job; a veteran of a New York law firm, he said he loves his ranger job (but for the salary) and would never go back.

Already, I can sense that I'm picking up factoids pretty quickly, though I'll need to do some studying. I also need to take a closer look at the Registry Building exhibits; I think I'll be with a ranger for orientation the next time I'm out there, so that should help. One of my cohorts tells me that January will be very quiet (who wants to take a boat through New York Harbor in the dead of winter?), so it will be the perfect time to start doing actual tours. I'll just need to figure a good way to morph the outside part of the discussion to the interior.

So far so good -- I can see I'm really going to like this. At least till the novelty wears off.

And then there was the Garrison tour at Fort Hancock last Friday. As expected, we were part of a small group -- four adults and two kids, plus the Park Historian and a young ranger. Starting at the base theater, we walked along Officers' Row and then back along the enlisted mens' barracks and mess halls, finally looping back to History House for hot cider and cookies. Since it was a small group, it was more of a discussion, including ample editorializing about the state of decay rampant around the fort. Notably, the young ranger was animated about the condition of the officers' houses and the work he and another ranger do to 'keep the floors from turning to pudding from leaks during rain storms.' In its infinite wisdom, the Army had torn off the slate rooves and replaced them with tarpaper shingles two years before handing over the property to the Park Service; those rooves are now beyond their useful lives, with predictable results. Ugh.

I learned a heck of a lot more about the fort, including the location of some long-gone buildings and lighthouses, as well as the background of a huge battery that was in the midst of being built in the 1850s-60s before being deemed obsolete and torn down. While there aren't a lot of prominent "firsts" or "bests" that would distinguish Fort Hancock in the mind of the common person, it's a great representation of coastal defense and served as a fine deterrent to an attack on New York Harbor.

As the rangers noted the lack of recognition and funding for the Fort's restoration, it occurred to me that it might make for a great documentary. New Jersey Network recently ran a fantastic piece on Morristown National Historic Park; I'd heard about it from one of the rangers up there, who was also bemoaning the lack of visitors to that site. Coincidentally, I did some work with the documentary's producer about 10 years ago, and I know he not only feels strongly about New Jersey history, he's fantastic about drawing the best out of a story.

Of course, as government employees, rangers can't go lobbying for funds or contributions for restoration work, so they probably can't be too pushy about public relations projects either. However, that doesn't mean that an interested citizen can't put two and two together and, perhaps, suggest that a documentary filmmaker capture the history inherent in the place, stressing the Jersey angle. If he happens to see the decay, well, let him come to his own conclusions. In any case, if people see the piece, more people get curious and visit and, hopefully, call for change.

So, after a long chat with the historian and the other rangers (including another one who recognized me from our visit last weekend...), the historian gave me his card in case I could get in touch with the producer. I'm working on a pitch right now, and hoping he'll remember working with me so he'll take the idea seriously. (One would hope he'd recall a woman who convinced a senior executive of a Fortune 500 company to stand in the middle of a swamp, but that's another story.).

The big thing for me here is the excitement I felt about the possibilities -- and seeing where my skills and experience can do some good. All of that corporate promotional stuff I suffered through has to have some sort of meaning and positive outcome. In my corporate career, I often wondered if I could ever be an effective advocate for a client without feeling like a total flack -- whether I'd ever be able to be less than cynical about what I was representing. Could I be passionate about advocating for the construction of a new office building, or what a great employer a given company is? It all seemed really fake, and it's hard for me to be sincere about stuff that won't make a positive and lasting impact. This kind of stuff -- preserving history, telling the stories of seemingly small but meaningful people and places -- can have impact.

There's a germ of a full-time job in all of it. Again, though: the challenge comes in finding a way to make a living while doing it.