I wasn't sure where to send a magical moment of this type, as this became a "moment" in time that a person doesn't realize has come to fulfillment until almost a year later- and certainly, this is a Magical Moment where the whole of experiences combines into a flood of emotions only brought to the surface from that point of picturesque clarity that hindsight represents...
I've noted your Main Street Diary since 1998 when I began my role as Ops Maintenance Administrator for the D/MGM Studios, and would only pleasantly glance over the guest compliments section as one letter or another might grasp my interest- not fully realizing the humanity that lie beneath mere printed words. Past notions of "a pleasant glance" are now replaced with a desire to learn more about the "who" as well as the "why" in a guest letter.
I have my own story to tell and it begins some time after December 7, 1941...
Before there's any mistake, I'm only 38 years old, the person "directly affected" by "Disney Magic Past" was my father-in-law Robert Holman, who joined the Navy just after the initiation of conflict that plunged the whole Earth into World War II. The unfortunate side effect of having made 4 shipboard deployments during his Naval career, Bob never came home on the same vessels he went out with. The first 3 deployments met with U-boat torpedoes; literally, he had the boats blown out from under him. The last deployment saw Bob swept off the deck during a squall where he tread water for almost 2 days until he was picked up by an English destroyer! Factor into this, enemy air attacks and battleship volleys, you could fully understand this man's desire to see nothing bigger than a pontoon boat ever again!
After the kind of conditions experienced by Bob, it's not hard to understand why he would never want to take a cruise, but you couldn't explain it to his wife or my wife [his daughter]... Shirley and my wife Suzanne seemed to be the Lucy and Ethel of the High Seas, always prodding and poking Robert to take them on a cruise since the 1950s. And always, the same answer- "I don't want to get on one of those renovated scows- too many nightmares, not enough memories".
Enter The Disney Cruise Line.
After my wife and I had taken an anniversary trip on the Wonder, everyone in my family (including the 1-year-old, go figure) managed to convince him to go. It took some doing, but eventually we were able to drag him onto the Wonder for his first voyage in almost 60 years! Though Bob could have pealed the tile off the floor to the gangplank going in, within the third day of the trip, while we were on Castaway Kaye, unprompted, we get a totally unexpected question "When should we take the 7 day cruise?"
Eventually, we took that cruise, right around the first of February (2003). My family, the "In-Laws" and my wife's brother and wife all took the trip- the only caveat being that Bob's health was faltering due to a harsh bout with cancer. As are all things Disney, the guest treatment was top notch, and any help with Bob's needs were always humane.
A couple of months prior was the family Christmas trip to the Magic Kingdom during the Cast Holidays. Normally, we're not a picturesque bunch and usually wave off the Main Street photographers, but since we had the option of a photo and The Castle to our backs, we posed all together with cheesy grins and eventually picked up the picture for a good laugh. Much like all the holiday photos and trimmings of the season, after Christmas it was put aside for the next year...
Unfortunately, Bob's health never got much better, even after the cruise. Eventually he was diagnosed terminally ill back around the end of February- the very same month as the cruise. With dwindling health and no positive prognosis, Bob and his wife of 50 years, Shirley, planned for what they knew to be inevitable. By the first week in October Bob and Shirl ventured up north to Massachusetts to take one last look at the falling leaves and to have amends with family and friends all with the idea of coming back to Florida for whatever time might be left.
Bob never made it back to what he considered "home". He passed away on October 14, [2004]due to the progressive nature of the cancer that had persisted for so long.
At that time, between moving into a new home, and reporting to Imagineering for a grand opportunity to work under their helm for a few months, things were already hectic in my family's household, and Bob's passing only compounded the frenetic nature of what one would call "life". Quiet moments after the funeral are- for now- sometimes spent with nagging quiet voices of regret and "things left undone or unsaid". Hardest hit of course was a wife and mother of 50 years, and a daughter who's only selfish motive for her father to stay alive was so his grandson would better remember his grandfather and not just some jumbled stack of pictures and grand stories.
This past Monday, I pulled decorations out of the Holman's attic in order to help Shirley have something up for the holidays- though things are melancholy this Christmas, we all agreed that we wanted things to be special for our toddler.
Being just over two years old, a toddler has a strong propensity for nosing into anything, and nothing sparks the curiosity of a little boy like a dusty box with greenery sprouting out of it... Lo and behold, in one of a dozen dusty boxes the baby had managed to pull out the picture of our family in front of the Castle, with the digital imprint of the Disney characters along the foreground edges.
The baby would point to each character and then burp out "Ickey", "Uto", "Inney", "Donnod"... Of course, we expected him to remember the characters- since he showed interest in Mickey all while we were on the cruise (as long as Mickey "stayed waaay over there"). But then came a Magical Moment- as fleeting perhaps as the time it took for the photo to be snapped and as quiet as the omnipotent voices of Pandora's box offering hope to the future:
"Daddy, Mommy, Gammy, Baby..."
"An Gampy..."
That Cast Christmas photo- the one we scarcely would have had taken- the one we laughed at ourselves for the chagrined nature of the moment since we had repetitively passed the opportunity time and again; is the last photo of our family together. That one photographic Disney moment is locked in time- we're all smiles- Bob is still with us and cognitive- the future was there to be had- and a grandson remembered his grandfather...
What happens in our future is anyone's guess. For those that subscribe to Zen koans, "Only the here and now are perfect- the past is a memory and the future is a lie".
Much like the proverbial pebble, onced dropped close by helping to create the crashing waves some place far from it's origins, my family and I, for now, will have rippled moments of perfection during this one difficult holiday season.
I've noted your Main Street Diary since 1998 when I began my role as Ops Maintenance Administrator for the D/MGM Studios, and would only pleasantly glance over the guest compliments section as one letter or another might grasp my interest- not fully realizing the humanity that lie beneath mere printed words. Past notions of "a pleasant glance" are now replaced with a desire to learn more about the "who" as well as the "why" in a guest letter.
I have my own story to tell and it begins some time after December 7, 1941...
Before there's any mistake, I'm only 38 years old, the person "directly affected" by "Disney Magic Past" was my father-in-law Robert Holman, who joined the Navy just after the initiation of conflict that plunged the whole Earth into World War II. The unfortunate side effect of having made 4 shipboard deployments during his Naval career, Bob never came home on the same vessels he went out with. The first 3 deployments met with U-boat torpedoes; literally, he had the boats blown out from under him. The last deployment saw Bob swept off the deck during a squall where he tread water for almost 2 days until he was picked up by an English destroyer! Factor into this, enemy air attacks and battleship volleys, you could fully understand this man's desire to see nothing bigger than a pontoon boat ever again!
After the kind of conditions experienced by Bob, it's not hard to understand why he would never want to take a cruise, but you couldn't explain it to his wife or my wife [his daughter]... Shirley and my wife Suzanne seemed to be the Lucy and Ethel of the High Seas, always prodding and poking Robert to take them on a cruise since the 1950s. And always, the same answer- "I don't want to get on one of those renovated scows- too many nightmares, not enough memories".
Enter The Disney Cruise Line.
After my wife and I had taken an anniversary trip on the Wonder, everyone in my family (including the 1-year-old, go figure) managed to convince him to go. It took some doing, but eventually we were able to drag him onto the Wonder for his first voyage in almost 60 years! Though Bob could have pealed the tile off the floor to the gangplank going in, within the third day of the trip, while we were on Castaway Kaye, unprompted, we get a totally unexpected question "When should we take the 7 day cruise?"
Eventually, we took that cruise, right around the first of February (2003). My family, the "In-Laws" and my wife's brother and wife all took the trip- the only caveat being that Bob's health was faltering due to a harsh bout with cancer. As are all things Disney, the guest treatment was top notch, and any help with Bob's needs were always humane.
A couple of months prior was the family Christmas trip to the Magic Kingdom during the Cast Holidays. Normally, we're not a picturesque bunch and usually wave off the Main Street photographers, but since we had the option of a photo and The Castle to our backs, we posed all together with cheesy grins and eventually picked up the picture for a good laugh. Much like all the holiday photos and trimmings of the season, after Christmas it was put aside for the next year...
Unfortunately, Bob's health never got much better, even after the cruise. Eventually he was diagnosed terminally ill back around the end of February- the very same month as the cruise. With dwindling health and no positive prognosis, Bob and his wife of 50 years, Shirley, planned for what they knew to be inevitable. By the first week in October Bob and Shirl ventured up north to Massachusetts to take one last look at the falling leaves and to have amends with family and friends all with the idea of coming back to Florida for whatever time might be left.
Bob never made it back to what he considered "home". He passed away on October 14, [2004]due to the progressive nature of the cancer that had persisted for so long.
At that time, between moving into a new home, and reporting to Imagineering for a grand opportunity to work under their helm for a few months, things were already hectic in my family's household, and Bob's passing only compounded the frenetic nature of what one would call "life". Quiet moments after the funeral are- for now- sometimes spent with nagging quiet voices of regret and "things left undone or unsaid". Hardest hit of course was a wife and mother of 50 years, and a daughter who's only selfish motive for her father to stay alive was so his grandson would better remember his grandfather and not just some jumbled stack of pictures and grand stories.
This past Monday, I pulled decorations out of the Holman's attic in order to help Shirley have something up for the holidays- though things are melancholy this Christmas, we all agreed that we wanted things to be special for our toddler.
Being just over two years old, a toddler has a strong propensity for nosing into anything, and nothing sparks the curiosity of a little boy like a dusty box with greenery sprouting out of it... Lo and behold, in one of a dozen dusty boxes the baby had managed to pull out the picture of our family in front of the Castle, with the digital imprint of the Disney characters along the foreground edges.
The baby would point to each character and then burp out "Ickey", "Uto", "Inney", "Donnod"... Of course, we expected him to remember the characters- since he showed interest in Mickey all while we were on the cruise (as long as Mickey "stayed waaay over there"). But then came a Magical Moment- as fleeting perhaps as the time it took for the photo to be snapped and as quiet as the omnipotent voices of Pandora's box offering hope to the future:
"Daddy, Mommy, Gammy, Baby..."
"An Gampy..."
That Cast Christmas photo- the one we scarcely would have had taken- the one we laughed at ourselves for the chagrined nature of the moment since we had repetitively passed the opportunity time and again; is the last photo of our family together. That one photographic Disney moment is locked in time- we're all smiles- Bob is still with us and cognitive- the future was there to be had- and a grandson remembered his grandfather...
What happens in our future is anyone's guess. For those that subscribe to Zen koans, "Only the here and now are perfect- the past is a memory and the future is a lie".
Much like the proverbial pebble, onced dropped close by helping to create the crashing waves some place far from it's origins, my family and I, for now, will have rippled moments of perfection during this one difficult holiday season.
My letter then ended detailing some things that I could take a life lesson from and apply it to business...
To try to sumerize it directly wouldn't make much of an impact to you, my faithful readers- but once paraphrased, is just as timely here and now as during that turbulent time in my family's history...
As an observation concerning the holidays- as self actualized individuals, sometimes we need a reminder that, though we see things differently than our fellow human beings, often through the eyes of repetition and the frenetic pace of the season's; sometimes the act of "just being there" for a moment that creates the moment.
As an observation concerning the holidays- as self actualized individuals, sometimes we need a reminder that, though we see things differently than our fellow human beings, often through the eyes of repetition and the frenetic pace of the season's; sometimes the act of "just being there" for a moment that creates the moment.
Those persons and personalities you'll come across in life will have their stories to tell, and whether you tell them or are told- there will be stories- ("ripples" from the very pebble we have just dropped into this "ocean" of our guests' expectations) in the not-too-distant future. What difference they make to you or that you will have made in a person's life may not be spelled out so clearly at the time of your meeting.
But soon enough, what will be the "here and now" of the future will tell...
I continue to be
Russ
