End of the Rainbow

December 5, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

I’ve always been a “nervous traveler.”

That’s peculiar when you realize I made a living traveling the country, delivering speeches, workshops, and presentations. One might think I’d be used to travel; it would be second nature.

So, let me clarify.

I’m not “nervous” in the sense that I’m afraid the plane will fall from the sky. I mean, sure, turbulence gives me a bit of the willies, but, overall, I feel safe in the air. I’m more anxious about the logistics. For example, will the flight be canceled and I’ll be stuck? Will I be re-directed due to fog? If I’m stuck in the airport, where will I sleep? (In fairness to me, these all happened and I ended up missing engagements.)

To assuage those dreads, I inspect weather reports of the departing and arriving airports days in advance, tracing where my plane will be coming from so I can monitor its weather – as well as the airport before that, and sometimes even the one prior. I set up numerous phone alarms and am familiar with every flight-tracking app on this side of the stratosphere. Not surprisingly, I arrive at the airport three days early (slight exaggeration) and prefer long layovers to avoid missed connections when flights are inevitably delayed.

None of this helps guarantee the trip will go as expected, and, to be honest, I’m not sure it doesn’t feed my anxiety, but, what can I say? It’s my thing.

I feel more in control when driving, but up here on the rugged Northcoast of California, that’s no guarantee either. We have skinny, twisty, mountain roads so inclement weather, accidents, and all manner of fallen objects close the main thoroughfares more often than I like.

With that as backstory, my wife and I were heading to a cabin in the mountains amid a predicted “Bomb Cyclone” that was set to soak Northern California the day we were planning to leave. (Cue nervousness and me checking weather apps.)

The good news was – as is usually the case – worrying was wasted energy. The sun broke through the clouds as we were leaving, and it was going to be an easy drive. Better yet, one of the most brilliant rainbows ever appeared as we pulled from the curb. Everyone likes rainbows. I mean, how can you not? From the time of Noah, the colorful arc that spans the firmament signifies hope, peace, and beauty. For my family, rainbows also signify a message from our departed cat, Tiger, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge last year.

What made this even more affecting was that the kaleidoscopic arc remained to our west for the first hour of our drive. Each time we took a curve, there it was; peering over the mountaintops, shining through the trees, hovering always to our side; watching and protecting us.

Here’s the amazing part. As we rounded a bend, the end of the rainbow was immediately to our left, culminating a few dozen feet off the road. (No, there wasn’t a pot of gold.) We only viewed it for an instant as the highway turned again, but the rainbow was enormous; its colors brighter and more vibrant than anything I’ve witnessed in my almost-seventy years; almost blinding. Upon witnessing the breadth, scope, and beauty of the rainbow, both my wife and I let out a simultaneous gasp. If we both hadn’t seen it together, at the same time, I’d be convinced it was my imagination.

But it wasn’t. [Read more…]

Life Lessons from a Sick/Healthy Cat

April 29, 2020 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

Even though we live with three cats and a dog, my wife and I don’t refer not to ourselves as “pet owners,” opting rather for the moniker, “pet guardians.”

You are now thinking either:

“Meh, so what?” yet, continuing to read
“Oh, you’re one of those type of people,” possibly even falsely labeling me as “wacko animal rights activist.”
“Right on! I so agree with you. I wish more people felt that way.”
“This is nonsense,” deciding you have something better to do with your time and returning to your quarantined life.

I judge not your response.

What’s the difference between “pet owner” and “pet guardian”?

Well, um, honestly, probably not much beyond semantics. Countless millions of people share living quarters with animals while considering themselves good “pet owners.” Assuming they love, nurture, and take care of their furry, feathered, or reptilian family members; they’re correct.

Speaking on behalf of those of us who opt for the term “guardian,” the difference is that I don’t believe I “own” the animals. I mean, sure, legally, I’m responsible and all; but believe each soul exists to pursue its own path. As guardian to Tiger, Oreo, Hobbs, and Willie, my responsibility is to help clear their paths to allow them the fullest, happiest, healthiest four-legged existence possible. (Go ahead, cue the “woo-woo,” artsy-fartsy, new age, hippie music; I’m used to it.)

The manner in which this choice of terms manifests itself with us is that there are cat and dog toys strewn everywhere. A giant dog bed occupies our living room floor with countless lesser versions scattered elsewhere. For the feline contingent, there are perches, walkways, all manner of hanging things, and even a “catio” attached to our back door (so they can go outside but not run the risk of being hit by cars).

As stated, we are animal guardians.

Starting late last year, Tiger, our eldest, has been suffering from all manner of severe health conditions with symptoms pin-balling from lethargy to vomiting to constipation; dropping from a robust 12 pounds down to seven. In February, we were discussing end-of-life options, actually assuming a date. Whether “owner” or “guardian,” or neither, I’m sure you empathize with this gut-wrenching, emotional, devastating period.

Yet, in what I can only describe as a miracle, our 15-year-old Tiger rebounded.

As if treated by magic wand, he woke up and started eating, and eating, and eating, and eating. His fur regained its smooth texture; his eyes cleared; he even reverted to kitten-like behaviors. He filled out so much, we referred to him as “Buddha belly.” Give praise! Sing hallelujah! Life is good.

Last weekend, noticing some fur was missing, we returned to the vet.

[Read more…]

Reinventing Myself: Realizing What Really Matters

April 14, 2015 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

This week marks exactly one year since our dog, Jack, abruptly left us.

Appearing fine with the rising of the sun, by nightfall he was no more. That’s a grim progression to experience any time, but to complicate this horribly unpleasant and unexpected bump in our highway of life, Jack’s passing occurred the exact morning I was slated to leave town for three months of contracted work. My wife and I, heartbroken, left the veterinarian and, upon arriving home, tearfully hugged each other as I slid into my rental car, and left her forlorn and isolated in our grievously hollow home.

Intertwined throughout the choking weight of sadness I carried was woven a heavy rope of guilt. But what are you going to do? It was three months worth of employment, planned well in advance. If your occupation takes you away — even when it’s more than inconvenient — you’re bound to go.

Life goes on — so to speak.

When my travel concluded, my wife requested,

“I know you love what you do – and I want you to be happy. But, I really need you not to travel so often. Would you please try and earn more of your income here?”

I agreed, not only because of her request, but also because I had been growing weary of the travel hassles. Her vocalizing my thoughts cemented the decision. So, for the last several months, I have been “reinventing myself at 60,” not something I intended – nor something I recommend, but as they say, “Life is what happens while we’re making other plans.” Mostly, short of scurrying hither and yon sussing out new modes of income, I’m doing okay. To that end, I do more coaching, both in person and on-line. I’m producing my own local seminars. I’ve snagged more hours assisting clients with marketing and consulting. And, I’m pleased as heck that even after 20 years together, I really do still enjoy spending so many hours with my lovely bride (and how cool is it that she says she enjoys having me around).

Today however brought forth an unexpected revelation: The most difficult component of my reinvention is that I no longer know who I am.

[Read more…]

Farewell to an Old Friend

January 19, 2011 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

When she was a kitten, we were constantly cleaning up remnants of paper. We’d leave the house for a few hours and come back to scraps of napkins scattered about the kitchen, or the roll of toilet paper splayed from bathroom to living room. Paper products lived in fear if KC Whittinger Longstockings Junior was nearby.

I’ve often wondered if animals think “Why in Heaven’s name did I get a bizarre name like that?,” or maybe they embrace it as a sign of their special uniqueness. However, I’ll place squarely the blame on my sons who chose her moniker (which might not be accurate but I can do that because they don’t live here and won’t be able to read this). “KC” was short for “Kitty Cat” (not very imaginative, I know). I don’t know the derivation of the rest of her handle but it didn’t matter; we referred to her simply as “KC” or “Case-ers.”

Newly divorced, I specifically chose KC from a litter in 1995 because she was the most talkative of the mob. Spending every other week without companionship, I figured I could somewhat fill the void by having a feline companion who would let me know what she felt with regularity. As they say, “Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.” Not only did she communicate, she did it — shall we say — “with enthusiasm.” She had a habit, especially in her later years, of waiting stealthily in the early morning darkness in the kitchen. The first human to enter — keep in mind not yet awake — would be “greeted” with an enormous howling ululation. Never sure whether it was “Good Morning, I’m glad you’re here,” or “What the heck took you so long to fill my bowl?,” what I can assure you is that after being welcomed as such by KC, there was no longer a need to use coffee to start your heart.

[Read more…]

End of the Rainbow

I’ve always been a “nervous traveler.”

So, let me clarify.

Life Lessons from a Sick/Healthy Cat

Even though we live with three cats and a dog, my wife and I don’t refer not to ourselves as “pet owners,” opting rather for the moniker, “pet guardians.”

What’s the difference between “pet owner” and “pet guardian”?

Yet, in what I can only describe as a miracle, our 15-year-old Tiger rebounded.

Last weekend, noticing some fur was missing, we returned to the vet.

Reinventing Myself: Realizing What Really Matters

This week marks exactly one year since our dog, Jack, abruptly left us.

Life goes on — so to speak.

Today however brought forth an unexpected revelation: The most difficult component of my reinvention is that I no longer know who I am.

Farewell to an Old Friend

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