It was partly out of pride and a sense of privacy. “It’s nobody’s business,” the matriarch would say. She’d decline to fill out the income questions on school forms and avoid letting others see the struggle. (Although, of course, they could still see.)

It also was partly a belief that asking for help was the same as admitting failure. The right thing to do was to soldier on and know that there are others even worse off than you. To prove it, it was important to always give to others, no matter what.

So it’s no surprise that the children in this family adopted that same belief structure.  They marched on, doing the best they could, while understanding that they also must help others. It was OK for others to ask for help, but not them – that’s where the pride came in.

For the most part, it worked out OK. The children all grew up to become modestly successful and mostly productive members of society.

Until one of them really, really needed help beyond what the family could provide.

Slowly and reluctantly, they broke the tradition. They took small steps to see about getting help from a local agency, affiliated with the state. They filled out forms. And more forms. They made appointments. They cautiously talked with the agency and government workers. Over time, they began to imagine letting others help them.

It started with very small steps. And it took a very long time (years) to even allow the smallest bits of support.

Looking in from the outside, I can understand the uncertainty, mistrust and shame they felt at asking for help. Asking for help is an admission of incapability, and it is difficult to hold onto anything like self-confidence or pride when you do so.

So it was an act of courage for them to ask for help.

I know it didn’t come easily; I know they are still quite tentative. They are learning how to behave in a new way, allowing others to see the condition of their lives – and participate in making it better.

I tell their story only because it seems worth noticing this component of the human condition. It may be an odd belief system, but it may be more prevalent than we notice.  And it seems timely as so many are struggling in this economy, in one way or another, perhaps with this same discomfort of learning how to behave differently.

Perhaps I can come to recognize this and to understand that although they may not ask for help, I should be mindful enough to offer.

As a young man in the early 1940s in New York, Ion was a regular at the legendary taverns in Greenwich Village, and his favorites were Minetta’s and McSorley’s.

Minetta’s has given way to the times, with a recent renovation that turned it into an upscale eating establishment. But McSorley’s, as I’ve noted before, stands defiant in its refusal to change. The last major change was the result of a 1969 legal decision, which forced the establishment (founded in 1874) to open its doors to women.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a champion of change. I applaud the decision that allowed me to visit McSorley’s. But some change does bring a pang to the heart.

Like the most recent one at McSorleys, involving the wishbones.

Back to my friend Ion.  When he visited McSorley’s, those wishbones were there, pronged on the gaslamp chandelier. They were already covered with decades of grime and dust.

They’d been placed there by young men, before they headed off to war. The first wishbones, it was said, came from the Civil War. They represented hopes delayed — the wishbones became symbols of the desired return. Once back, the soldiers could retrieve the bit of bone and make a wish.

Only many of the men didn’t return. And so the wishbones remained, unclaimed.

Ion was one of the lucky ones. He returned from World War II safely, and reclaimed his wishbone. He’s the kind of guy who might have wished for an end to all wars or maybe just another pint.

Other wishes and wishbones went unclaimed, and so remained atop the chandelier, gathering dust and grime. Until this week, when a health inspector ordered them cleaned. Details at this NYT article. (The inspector also ordered the McSorley cats removed.)

In responding to the order about the health hazard of the wishbones, Proprieter Matthew Maher carefully removed the wishbones, cleaned each, and returned each to its proper place. In a loving touch, he kept the grime  and dust removed from each, and took it home with him, “because, in the context of McSorley’s, it is sacred.” (quote from the NYT article).

Perhaps like the other changes, these will become part of the lore, always evoking a pang in the heart. Perhaps the important thing is passing on the stories of this remarkable place.

Ion did. He understood me well enough to know that I’d go there, whenever I could. He knew I’d look for the wishbones and give the cats some kindness, and keep the story alive.

I saw my first crocus of the season yesterday — a tiny thimble-sized lavender-hued bloom, but unmistakable in its promise.

That’s how I think about Kansas City’s Maker Faire, coming June 24-25, to Union Station. An event of promise and optimism, a celebration of people who create things. Makers.

The focus is on doing, using our hands, minds, hearts to create. Instead of just the blind consumption that’s so often pushed as economic strategy — I don’t buy it. (Oops, sorry about that pun.)

The Maker Faire is a grassroots and inclusive opportunity, equally welcoming to robot-designers and bread-

makers, musicians and artists, quilters and craftspeople. It’s a celebration of the act of creating, making, doing.

Organizers promise diverse fare: Tesla coils, bicycles, do-it-yourself science, alternative energy cars, artisan foods, woodworking and rockets.

Check out the Maker Faire site and help spread the word. Let’s show off our creativity, our arts, our skills, our ideas at the edge of the possible.

Making is living.

See you there.

My evidence?

- Maker’s Faire. Coming to Kansas City, June 25 and 26, at Union Station. Organizers are expecting 100-200 participants, a good start. I’ve written before about the power of makers, the honor of the craftsperson, and the attractiveness of the maker movement. Now it’s becoming a respected and valid entry to entrepreneurship. And it’s bubbling in Kansas City. This nascent movement combines innovation, creativity and a little bit of anti-establishment attitude in focusing on making rather than consuming.

- Forbes magazine identifies Kansas City as 5th of the nation’s 50 largest cities in terms of the growth rate of college-educated adults, making Kansas City one of the top “brain magnets” in the country.  Here’s what Forbes said:

The two-state Kansas City region boasts strong population growth and net in-migration– and for good reason. The city has one of the lowest costs of living, one of the highest personal-income growth rates and one of the healthiest real estate markets in the country. Short commute times also add to the attractiveness of the city for families. The city is the second-largest rail hub in the U.S. and is actively growing its life science and technology sectors. Kansas City gained 38,398 graduates from 2007 to 2009, or 2.96 percent of its 25-and-older population.

- Life Sciences and KC Animal Corridor. This is perhaps the most tangible of the signs. Rising from the loss of Marion Merrill Dow, dozens of smart Kansas Citians chose to stay and build upon their expertise and passion. They could’ve left to take jobs on the East or West coasts, or gone to rebuild from there. But they planted roots here, and now those roots are flourishing. Now, I don’t want to see any of our other large corporations move out, but even if they did (thinking of the perennial Sprint rumors, for example), I now believe the same could happen again.

- Blossoming arts scene. Kauffman Center for Performing Arts, the Nelson-Atkins, the Kansas City Art Institute, the arts incubator, the Crossroads, and loads of additional artist/entrepreneurs are changing the vibes in this town.  There was a small performance last week, “A Gaelic Revival,” held at the Irish Center in Union Station.  A handful of equity actors, including some of the best in Kansas City, performed scenes from “Playboy of the Western World,” “The Plough and the Stars” and “Kathleen nee Houlihan” for an enthralled audience of about 50.  Multiply this by the dozens of events every weekend, heck, every day, and you understand what a gifted arts community we have.

- Final perspective: Six qualified and capable candidates are running for mayor. Local pundits have already noted that the city can hardly go wrong with this roster.  Even discounting that all candidates speak in glowing terms about the city’s potential, this time … it feels like most of them really mean it.  I’d like to see the next mayor embrace collaboration and build on this newly emerging power.

So, to all those HR recruiters and corporate executives who still believe that the best come from somewhere else — think again. Look here first.

Lately, it’s crept in anyway.

Part of it has come with my sister, who lately has been developing her own anxieties. She now gets anxious when I am not home, as it is difficult for her to keep track of my work schedule, which sometimes allows me to be at home but often requires that I am out. She gets upset and worries, wandering the house and talking to herself, unable to focus. It becomes increasingly difficult for my husband to calm her down.

She also is awakening in the night, filled with uncertainty, but wanting to arise. It becomes a challenge to convince her that it’s still night, and time for sleeping. She gets nervous and frustrated when her things aren’t Just So, exactly positioned where and how she likes them.

These anxieties are taking greater hold of her… and now I find that I’m sharing them too. Not the same ones as her, but anxieties FOR her, because of her.

I am working to banish them — replace them with action. So far, my meager actions haven’t won the day, but I will not nurture fear and anxiety. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.

Instead it’s actions: Research — reading about Alzheimer’s research and practices, medical insights, etc. It’s talking with others (thanks to my friends at Siblings Are Great Advocates). It’s describing all this to others in the family and drawing their support and help. It’s working harder to help her understand and overcome her own anxieties.

Action, I believe, must be the conqueror of anxiety.

But in my family, it was Beth who made us what we are.

When I was six, Beth was born with Down Syndrome. I remember us learning words like “trisomy” and “mongoloid” and slowly realizing that our lives would be changed completely. Not just in the way that a new baby changes a family, but in a way that made us all realize we’d be expected to do more to help her.

It wasn’t so much that my parents told us this; we are a family that doesn’t talk much, so it was not an explicit instruction. It was a dawning realization — for me, coming as I watch our Mom take time every day to teach her to read.

The three older brothers had their own lives — teenagers in  a world mysterious to me. Yet Beth reached them and they too responded. She brought us together.

She taught us how to really see each other. She helped us learn more about ourselves. She gave us our identity — with Beth we practiced patience, gentleness and laughing. With Beth, we thought and explained things to each other more. She made us a better family.

And she still is teaching us.

We’re all adults now. Even Beth, the baby, is 46 and now experiencing a new phase in her life. And we are again recalling how to deal with changes — although the changes this time involve  her memory loss, confusion and physical incapacity.

Not that it’s easy, but we are realizing that we need to have crucial conversations about planning for the next stage of her life. And making it easier for her to transition to it.

We’re not done with these crucial conversations, we don’t have them often enough to be comfortable with them. I worry that critical time is passing while we tiptoe around emotions, duty, responsibility and avoid our own uncertainty.

Beth, again, has focused our family on the important things. Now it’s up to us to respond and raise our own expectations of each other.

I don’t know how this story will end.

I only tell it in hopes of learning more potential endings than I can imagine. I look for connections with others who have had similar experiences; I wonder if my experiences (as imperfect as they are) can provide help to others.

I’ve recently joined a small group of folks who have adult siblings with Down Syndrome.. We’re just now organizing ourselves, providing support to each other and hoping to bring others along. We also have big dreams to draw in medical research, to help develop the understanding of the Down-Alzheimer link, to provide appropriate care facilities for our siblings.

We may not be able to change things for Beth. But Beth’s experiences may be able to change things for someone else.

For more information, visit Siblings Are Great Advocates.

A thread running through the topic is the importance of play and creativity in solving the problems of the world. This isn’t hyperbole — the discussion really looked at the largest issues in the world.

From Jane McGonigal: the idea that in playing games, we are using our best version of ourselves; the mindpower that can be harnessed in playing games to make the world a better place.

Her goal: to make it as easy to save the world in real life, as it is in online games. And she’s not joking. If we could increase our game playing time from its current 3 billion hours a week to 21 billion hours a week, the world would be different place.

I look at gaming in a new light.

From Michael Wesch, social anthropologist from K-State: Good questions and illustrations of the world on fire — and brilliant insights on the changes technology offers. We can’t live the next 100 years like the last.

Media uses us as much as we use it; and there is no opting out. Media mediates relationships, when media changes, relationships change — including the structure of our culture.

Technology in our hands creates new potential. Question is how will we use it? How will it change us? Wesch articulates the razor’s edge between a hopeful future and a more ominous one with new openness and freedom, transparency, mass participation vs. the potential for more survelliance and control, deception, mass distraction.

His goal is to move his students from being knowlegeable to knowledge-able. He explains we need (and need to teach) skills to find, sort, analyze, organize and create knowledge.

He told the story of when the world was on fire. All the animals running to escape, but it was impossible — the fires were raging and soon they were trapped.

One little bird had an idea. The little bird flew to the stream and picked up a drop of water in its beak, flew back to the fire and dropped the water. And again, and again, and again.

What are you doing little bird? The best I can.

The heroics inspired the rest of the creatures (or variously, the gods) who joined in to save the day and put out the fire, by working together in the example of the littlest bird.

From Francis Cholle:  We need a higher level of creativity to solve sustainability questions. Creativity will be the the No. 1 leadership competency in the future.We need to play more to become more creative — play eludes our analytical minds. Our analytical minds can be a handicap to creativity.

The most important skills to master:

• Think holistically; there’s more to consider than the P&L
• Think paradoxically
• Listen for the unusual. Or, stop thinking and start feeling.
• Lead by influence, not by control

Plenty to ponder.  Thanks, TEDxKC.

Suddenly all is transformed and the tension takes on a new dimension. I am inside the construction site of the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Kansas City.

I admit to a constant fascination with the art of architecture and engineering — I’m stunned by the combination of mathematics and precision and emotion that is so evident in this structure.  Yes, emotion. You feel as thought the structure “knows” its purpose and embodies an appreciation of art and its impact on humanity.

Click on photo for a brief video

There is a tension in the structure — a struggle to balance, precisely, the engineering  requirements with the artistic goals. There is magnificence in the tension.

It’s both literal and figurative.

The physical structure relies on tension, with cables that flow from the curved shell to deep anchors. These cables support the glass atrium facade.

The imagery of the building is reminiscent of a musical instrument (a cello, in my mind). The tension wires are the strings, the arc of the structure is the sensuous body of the instrument, and its position on the landscape — the change to the horizon — is the music.

In this image, the participants who visit the building are part of the performance itself. We walk through the instrument and our movement resonates with the sense of breathing within the building. The building already feels alive with rhythmic tension.

You feel it inside the performance spaces where the beautiful woodwork is warming and comforting, where the chamber produces a cathedral-like sense of awe and grace. It’s a wonder at nature, like walking in a vast forest, but this time it’s the vast imagination, skill and mastery of the craftsmen that amazes.

The building soars and sings with echoes and self-reflections: it’s as though it folds in on itself, again creating a balance. The interior mimics the dramatic exterior, the lines of the exterior are reflected in the the parallel lines in the acoustically designed walls in the theater. The exterior curves are mimicked in the interior performance space.

Construction is change in action; transformation on a grand physical scale. Art, also, is change in action — a moment of tension, the creation of the artist conveyed through a performer to an audience. The impermanence of the moment juxtaposed with the searing meaning and perhaps, enduring memory in the minds of an audience.

This change, so welcome, so beautiful, so important to our culture. This building will play upon our identity and forever mark our commitment to our better instincts in innovation, art, engineering, craftsmanship.

It is a building of possibilities. It shows that there is unbound potential for us, as individuals and as a community.

In the corporate world, I used to marvel at the degree of specialization in the workforce. Tasks were split into smaller and smaller bits and assembled across silo’ed organizations. And leaders wondered why it was so hard to get everyone focused on the same mission.

In technology, we continue to break everything into tinier and tinier bits. Think of network technology (packet switching, dissembling and reassembling bits right this instant!), and the increasingly specialized areas of research and academics. We keep slicing our focus smaller.

It’s the same with time. We’re driven by the clock, to make use of every minute. Too bad that too often we’re just satisfying ourselves with an illusion of activity.  Hmm, do I really need to check the stock market again? Or Facebook? Am I making a connection or avoiding one?

This week I found a nice way to connect. Individually, working alone but as part of a world movement. Another form of crowdsourcing, there’s a movement to make it easy for the app-carrying masses to spend a few seconds contributing money, time or intellect to others.

It’s a kind of hive-help to museums, schools and libraries. Called The Extraordinaries, it’s an app for micro-volunteering from your mobile phone. You can select a program to support, and within seconds, you can be helping with a project — for example, translating film dialog, tagging items from historic photo collections, supporting research.

Some of The Extraordinaries’ projects:  for Cornell University, collect data on urban birds; for the Smithsonian, help build a search engine for vintage photos and artwork by tagging images; help the Bibliotheque de Toulouse or the Brooklyn Museum tag their photo collections. You can help Greenpeace or the Library of Congress. Non-profits can apply to add their work to The Extraordinaries’ portfolio of projects.

The Extraordinaries, backed by a strong investment team featuring Kapor Ventures of Silicon Valley and Esther Dyson, among others, has secured $1.135 million in funding.  The company describes itself as for-profit social enterprise and is applying to become a B-corp.  (More on that later.)

Tiny bits of time, given to a bigger cause. This can’t help but catch on.

I’ve seen it firsthand in my family under a couple of different circumstances. In his later years, my father was afflicted by a form of dementia, and it changed not only him, but also my mother, brothers and sister and me. My younger sister recognized it quickly and accepted it the easiest: “Sometimes he doesn’t know me,” she said matter-of-factly one day. She was right.

Later, near the end of her time, my mother also lost much of her memories and most of her capability to make good decisions. Slowly, she retreated into herself, her interests diminished.  But even in her foggy state, she was able to give me advice. Near the end, I was visiting her, and told her of an upcoming, exciting trip I was planning to Brazil and Argentina. “Well, just don’t get lost,” she said firmly. It made me laugh at the time, but it was still good advice — and it told me she still knew me and still cared about me.

Now, I’m starting to see the confusion touching another member of the family — my sister. It’s the unmistakable loss of short-term memory, diminishing her capacity to react and make decisions. It’s like watching a slow retreat, a slipping-away, a loss of focus that’s frightening.

But it’s frightening only for those of us around the situation — I don’t think it’s frightening at all to my sister herself. She’s happy, cheerful, laughing, mostly content with her days.  As she always has been. I don’t see any fear in her; so what brings the rest of us fear?

Change.

As one who studies change, I’m watching this “case study” with particular attention (I’m part of it, after all). But my measured assessments of the situation are filtered through my own emotions — and my own fear.  I can see the various reactions to change in others. There’s the reluctance to accept it (we can wait), the desire to avoid it (she’s still happy and healthy). I can see my own reactions.

I note that change brings lessons worth relearning, now that I’m face-to-face with my own emotions. We’re human, and we react to change with our emotions first, and with our intellect second. Emotion is the stronger influencer; I have to recognize it, accept it, embrace it and give it it’s due.

My new task list: Take heart, Have courage, Be strong, Go forward.

UPDATE May 14, 2010: Found a great post that gives another view, with a nice bit of useful wisdom for a lot of situations — instead of focusing on what’s lost, find joy and pleasure in what remains. Check it out at the KevinMD blog.