When Next We Meet

Two meetings: One beautiful, one sad.

Start with beauty.

A friend writes to tell me she sang a song in public and includes the recording as proof.

A big cheese at her workplace, she rewrites The Sound of Music classic with her “favorite things” about the colleague she serenades at his retirement shindig. For the first time, the scores of people who report to her hear her sing.

She is glad she screwed up the courage to do it, is surprised by the delight her song elicits.

The lyrics are clever, the intonation lovely, the tune carried off in excellent taste. However well-done, though, no one, least of all my friend, would confuse her with Julie Andrews. Something other than artistry causes the delight.

Maybe how she honors someone who looks up to her on the org-chart reminds everyone character does not come from position.

Or maybe offering something creative rather than something canned provides evidence that yes, thought put into a gift does indeed count.

For sure the sheer vulner…