Exciting news and how the idea originated

I know it has been a long time since my last post. I have been very busy with the editing of my second book "Sensitivity 202...Life Isn't All About You." I am hoping it will be out later this year. I also have re-published and changed the title of my first book. "Sensitivity 101 for the Heterosexual Male" will soon be "Sensitivity 101...The Search for Acceptance." Many book reviewers believe this will open up interest among women and those from divorced families better than the original title. It will have the same ISBN so you can still buy from any on-line retailer and get the new title automatically. It may take some time for the new cover to be added to Amazon and Barnes and Noble, etc.

By the way, "Sensitivity 101 for the Heterosexual Male" is ranked number 60 on the Amazon top sellers list under Inspirational books. I'm not sure how or why, but I'll take it.

I have also been getting many e-mails asking how the idea came to me. So for the next few months I will be posting every Monday a new section of "How the Idea originated." Here is the first one. I hope you all enjoy it and continue to support my writings.

I was on Facebook one night when I heard the beep--you know the one--and the IM pop-up box appeared. On the other end was a girl--now a lady--that I hadn't talked to in over 30 years. We had worked together at a McDonalds while we were in high school. She and I also shared some special time at a movie called "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" I'm sure some of you have heard about it. (But that's another story all together.)
Anyway, after exchanging some small talk we decided to call each other instead to "really connect." We started talking about my upcoming book "Sensitivity 101 for the Heterosexual Male". She had seen some of my posts about it and also had been to my website http://www.philipnork.com/ to investigate. One of the first questions she had for me was, 'How did this all start?"
I started to explain the story to her, in bits and pieces. Over the next few weeks we called each other every Wednesday night and I had another sidebar to tell her about. She was very surprised to find out she was actually in the book. It has to do with the before mentioned movie and what it meant to me. (It's chapter 23 for those of you who want to know.)
Here is the what I told her the first night--

Obviously the stories of "Sensitivity 101... started as I grew up, but as I did I pushed these memories way back into my brain for safe-keeping. They began to surface again when I moved my family from Illinois to Nevada. Not having many friends in a new place brought them to the forefront. They came to me by way of dreams at night. They were reoccuring that were so vivid I was sure I had gone back in time and was reliving them. The memories were there, but I still didn't know what to do with them.

That's it for this week. Every Monday I will continue the story. Or if you'd rather see the end result faster, just go to my website http://www.philipnork.com/ and take a look.

Until next Monday...

Phil

Memories and triggers...

As I get older I realize that no matter how different people may seem to each other, that no matter what your race, religion or opinions are and that no matter where you live we all share some things in common. Two of them are: the want to be accepted for who we are and more importantly the common drive to be truly happy. There is a third thing we all share, and that is MEMORIES.

Memories of good and bad, past people and places, and the roads you took to get you where you are today. There are certain things that trigger these memories for you--maybe it's the smell of your mom's homebaked apple pie that reminds you of her, or the scent that your dad had over him after changing the oil on your car. It could be a certain color that reminds you of the dress you wore at prom. Or possibly the memories start to flow as you look through old yearbooks or photographs of times gone by. Ot nowadays maybe it's the excitement you get re-connecting with past friends on Facebook or other social media.

I have three memory triggers. The first is aromas. I talk alot about them in my book "Sensitivity 101 for the Heterosecxual Male, Lessons Learned from the Faire Sex." The ones that "get to me" the most often are best quoted from my book, "The smells of Wisconsin which always filled the air start with fresh cut green grass, the charcoal scents of a hamburger cooked on an open campfire, and the brackish seaweed that lay on the beaches in the early morning...I hated the taste of mint, but loved the smell, so I would take the sprig out of my glass of lemonade and put it in my pocket so I could enjoy it later...Whenever the snell of rain came to the air--you know the smell--we would wait excitedly for the storm to hit. As soon as it did, there were the two of us out dancing in the downpour. Nana told me, 'Rain is the cleansing agent God sends to wipe away your sins.'

The second trigger surprisingly enough is sleep. People say I have a photographic memory, I don't forget a thing. Well I can "program" my mind before I go to sleep and whatever I set it for, comes alive once again. It's like I have a TIVO in my head.

Finally the third and most used trigger is music. My ten-year-old son always jokes with me saying, "Dad, what's wrong with you? You can remember every song lyric ever made in the 70's, but you can't remember what we had for dinner last night." I explain that certain music takes me back to when I was younger and that he'd understand some day.

From my earliest memory music was there for me. My grandfather would listen to old country music on a small portable transistor radio and that became my favorite music back when I was 4 and 5. Johnny Cash and Loretta Lynn were my favorites...but it also landed me the label of strange. Once school started I was able to change my listening to easy going music, the Temptations singing Up, Up and Away brings back fond memeories of Jenna and first grade. As I continued to grow, each memorable occassion had a song attached to it. Jim Croce, Billy Joel, Air Supply and finally Rod Stewart all have special places in my mind and in my book. Disco music really comes to mind as I learned who the "real me" was going to be.

So you see, memory triggers are all around you...learn to use them and to relax and enjoy the moment. The world we live in today is so fast and complicated that we tend to forget how easygoing and carefree life used to be, and should be again.

There is one song that brings this all together for me. I hope you enjoy this version of Jim Croce's Time In A Bottle.



Why not leave me some of your memory triggers?

Till Next week,

Phil

What are Friends Anyway...?

Sorry I'm so late with this post...very busy week. We had rain here in Vegas and that throws everyone off. So my question this week is "what are friends anyway?" The dictionary states: Friend--a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

Growing up as a boy of divorce there were many times I didn't feel as though I had a friend to my name. I felt as though many of my schoolmates didn't even know I was alive. But in Chapter 4 of "Sensitivity 101 for the Heterosexual Male, Lessons Learned from the Fairer Sex" I introduce you to Lisa and Sally.

These girls became my first real friends. Through the years others had moved on or moved away, but these two stayed in my life for a long time. As we grew older, we obviously changed both physically and emotionally. We developed our own very distinct opinions, yet we still managed to like and respect each other. The three of us remained together because we had accepted each other a long time earlier for what each of us brought to the table. We stayed friends through good times and bad and were always there every Saturday morning to encourage each other. I learned from Lisa and Sally that friendship is the most important thing you can have in yor life.

Now a mere 40 years later the idea of friendship comes up again. Remembering that back in the day I didn't think anyone knew who I was or that I even existed I am somewhat surprised--with the advent of social media like Twitter and especially Facebook--at what is happening.

Knowing that friends have an attachment to each other, I am amused, yet still very happy, to have befriended over 300 people who now know me. And in fact, what I have found is that over half of my "new friends" are actually ones that I went to grade school and high school with. Although some are older and others are younger, they all seem to remember me and my past. They even relate to and remember parts of my book that they may have been a distant participant in. I wonder where they were back when I really needed them as I grew up in what I thought was an isolated world.

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and have these "friends" back then. Funny what time and aging do to people. It is so nice to re-connect with names from my past, and to realize that we all do matter, that we all do know more people than we think and that we are all connected in some way or another.

So whether you are an acquaintance, ally, associate, buddy, chum, cohort, colleague, companion, comrade, mate, pal, partner, playmate, sidekick or soul-mate of mine, I thank you.

And now, thanks to my book, I can also add well-wisher to my list "friends, fans, and followers." You can become a "fan" of Sensitivity 101... at www.facebook.com/sensitivity101.

Whatever our relationship is or was or may be, I thank you for being there now on this part of my journey. This is my act of kindness this week.

It may seem weird for a guy, but this is one of my favorite TV shows of all times and expresses just how I feel today. Enjoy!



Till next week,

Phil

Remembering...

                                            



                                             

So why would I start with a video with no explanation? The name of this blog is One Good Turn Deserves Another, and nowhere is that more evident than in Chapters 2 and 3 of my book "Sensitivity 101 for the Heterosexual Male." 

In Chapter 2, I introduce you to "Nancie" a younger, shyer classmate. She was my second grade teacher's daughter who came to our classroom one day when her kindergarten class was off. At lunch that day I approached her and reached out to her as I thought she looked uneasy and lost. After accepting my friendship, telling me her name was Nancie with an IE and thanking me for making her feel comfortable in class, Nancie not only sat next to me the rest of the day, she promised never to forget my name.

As I say in the book
"Fast forward to my junior year of high school. I became a teacher's aide in a freshman English class. Two of my responsibilities had me sitting up front at the teacher's desk grading papers and taking roll every morning. It was the first day of a new semester and a whole new class of freshmen sat in front of me. I always felt uncomfortable meeting new people and this was no different. I felt like they were all staring at me.
When it came time to call roll, there were some names I couldn't pronounce properly, which made me more nervous than normal. I got through most of the names and then called out "Nancy Ann." From the back of the room a confident voice answered: "Hi, Phil. My name is Nancie, Nancie with an IE."
I looked up and immediately felt at ease. It was Nancie from second grade.
She smiled and said, "You told me not to forget your name and I didn't. After you finish roll why don't you come back here and sit next to me in this empty desk?"
After roll call I made my way to the back row.
Nancie shook my hand and said, "You looked uncomfortable up there. Remember how nice you were to me that day in grade school?"
"Thanks for returning the favor." I replied.
Our situations had been reversed, but the underlying message of this experience remained with me. As a result of my making the effort to reach out, even though it was a small gesture, when years later it was I who needed the help, miraculously it was there.

And in Chapter 3, "Julie D." makes her appearance into the book and into my life. She was a new girl in school, just moved from Wyoming, and couldn't find any friends. Finally after some soul-searching and a talk with my mom, I decided to become her one and only friend at school. We talked about auras, UFO's and far-away Wyoming. But then...

"A few months later, a very excited Julie came to school and told the class that her family was moving back to Wyoming. As the two of us discussed this on our way home, Julie said to me, "We're all so lonely. Thanks for being my friend. You made my time here a little better."
As she handed me her book about auras, and then a second one, she said, "I want you to have my book. It helped me find you and I hope it will bring you new friends. This other one is about trusting your feelings. My mom told me that someday we all may have to make big decisions and that your feelings will never lie to you. She said to trust what they tell you. Anyway, thanks again for being my friend."
When we got to her doorstep, I hugged Julie, watched her open the door, wave good-bye and disappear inside. I never saw or heard from Julie again.
Julie taught me that just because someone is different than you are does not mean they don't expect the same things in life as you do. A person may look different, you may not have their same beliefs, and sometimes they may even act a little strange, but we all want the same things: to be happy and accepted for who we are.

So what does that have to do with the video above? What it all means is that you should look at the little things that happen in your life--they may be signs from above--and not only learn from them, but remember them forever. It's funny how the things these two girls taught me so long ago continue to reappear in my life.

Till next week,

Phil

Rain, Rain...

Well last week was a whopper when it came to weather. Here on the west coast EVERYONE got rain, even us here in Vegas. In fact we got more rain in three days than we did all of last year combined.
I actually like the rain...as I say in my book "Sensitivity 101 for the Heterosexual Male"

After church we would go back to my grandmother’s house for a big dinner with even more extended family. One person I really connected with was my great-grandmother, I called her Nana. The two of us could sit and talk about anything for hours. She would tell me stories about when she was growing up. At fi rst I didn’t believe her when she told me,“We had no television, no electricity, and no indoor plumbing. Living on a farm, there weren’t that many other kids around either. I spent most of my time reading and doing chores. My favorite pastime was making noodles with my mom.”
There was a feeling I got around Nana that I felt nowhere else in my life. It was calming and relaxing. Part of that came from her distinctive smell. It was a woodsy aroma, not really feminine but not overly masculine either. It reminded me of the faint, almost sweet odor of fertilizer. Nana said, “What your nose detects is years of working on a farm and then spending all summer working my gardens to make them beautiful to look at.” Whatever it was, it worked on me.
I got along so well with her that my mom would let me spend all of my summers with her and my great-grandfather up at the cottage they owned in rural Wisconsin. The smells there were special too. The air was always filled with fresh cut green grass, the charcoal scents of a hamburger cooked on an open campfire, and the brackish seaweed that lay on the beaches in the early morning. It was a great place for me to be alone with my thoughts. I would spend most of the morning fishing on the small lake with him, the afternoons lying on the grassy hillside next to the cottage looking aimlessly into the sky, and then the night talking to Nana as we sat in two rocking chairs on the screened-in porch that overlooked the lake. We would share the night by sharing life.
As we sat together, drinking homemade lemonade and eating special sweets that she’d made during the day, Nana became my first exposure to the occult, ESP, UFO’s, and the afterlife. Anything that others thought of as abnormal was normal to her.
Her lemonade was really the part I enjoyed the most. She always floated a sprig of mint on top. I hated the taste of mint, but loved the smell, so I would take the sprig out of my glass and put it in my pocket so I could enjoy it later.
On the subject of religion, she reinforced my conviction that it does not matter how or where you worship God, as long as you believed in Him. She said, “Treating people with the respect they deserve is the best way to get into heaven.”
We also had another ritual which I still do to this day. Whenever the smell of rain came to the air--you know the smell--we would wait excitedly for the storm to hit. As soon as it did, there were the two of us out dancing in the downpour. Nana told me, “Rain is the cleansing agent God sends to wipe away your sins."

So the rain that fell this past week must have been a sign from above letting us know He forgives all of us at the same time.

Because of this weather mess though some people weren't as nice as they could be. I was stuck in the Albuquerque New Mexico airport on the worst of the days--Thursday. Many, many flights were cancelled all through the west, like Arizona, California and Nevada. One man in particular was just down right mean. He was yelling at anyone who would listen about how dare they cancel his flight. He approached a young girl at the SouthWest gates and preceeded to humilate the poor girl for a good twenty minutes. All I could hear her say was "I'm sorry, I don't control the weather." He stomped away madder than ever.
I was next in line and even though I didn't know the man, apologized to "Melissa" for what she was going through that day. She just smiled and said "Just part of the job...most people understand."
Melissa helped me get onto a flight and even moved my luggage to that one. I asked her name and said I would write a letter to her boss thanking her for her friendliness. I even saw her smile as I left.
But back to "the man." Of course he was waiting in my area of the airport and still complaining about missing his cancelled flight.
As "Dimitri" started to call my flight to line up, this idiot walked straight up to him and started to complain very loudly about "why are they leaving, if I'm not?" Dimitri started to explain, but "the man" got extremely agitated and walked away mumbling "F***ING rude, A**HOLE."
That did for many of us in line. As he returned to get "your name, so I can report you" a few us yelled back at him about him being rude. He looked at us all, threw up his middle finger and cursed us all out. One older man went and got security, and as we were being loaded into our plane, he was handcuffed and loaded  to who-knows-where.
I guess my moral here is that God is listening and reacts to everything, even if you don't think he is. We all got what we deserved...me a plane ride home...Melissa and Dimitri justice and a smile...and the mean old man, a place to calm down by hinself--jail.

By the way here is my book trailer--Hope you like it.



Till next week,

Phil