Give In to Thursday

I took my first classes at Michigan State in Winter 1979, when a guy named Magic Johnson was slowly, steadily, leading the college to new heights of basketball glory, and everybody wanted to watch this kid. Back then, the Big Ten only played games twice a week; Thursday nights, and Saturday nights.  Suffice it to say, the classes offered Thursday after 5 and any time Friday were low in enrollment, because we knew we were watching something spectacular.  That meant quitting time was around 4 on Thursday, and laundry night was either Friday or Sunday.  Talk about learning life skills at college—anyone going to MSU then got a second degree in Weekend Time Management.

You’d think that would disappear once we all went out into the real world, and to be sure, it did—kind of. Jobs and kids and concerts and aerobics classes all found their space, and almost no one in charge—your boss, your spouse, the karate teacher—either understood or respected the Thursday night rule. This turned out to be a plus for any boss I had.  I still put in five days of work in four days, making the work I did on Friday a bonus—once I got past the fact that I was somewhere besides home at 9 AM Friday.

But Thursday’s five o’clock shadow never quite left me. Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday.  Not only are there no gifts, and I get to indulge on too much sage.  I get to watch the sun go down around 5:00 Thursday Detroit time, and not have a care in the world.

It really returned about five years ago.  I was working two jobs at the time, but my schedule somehow designed itself to have Thursdays clear after 4.  Both kids had finished their college experiences, and the financial planner said I’d done enough overtime, so Thursday became the day to watch the sun run out the clock, spend a little more time in the kitchen, and listen to all of that Rhiannon Giddens CD.

I was surprised to discover what this did to the rest of the week.  I was still on overdrive, getting all of the things done that needed to get done.  But my breath was different, and my vision was different.  I could actually hear and see myself doing these things, not just getting them over with.  Life became less of a checklist, and more of an experience, all because I had a few hours to myself on Thursday.

I think about that when I hear motivational speakers talking about giving 110% and leaning in, defining commitment like it was tangible.  Commitment is an expression of soul, and while there are ways to measure art, and music, and dance, it sure means a lot more when you put the clipboard down and just drink it in.  My mother almost never used measuring cups and spoons when cooking, saying she just knew how much was enough.  I’ve wanted every part of my life to be like that, and more of it probably would have been, if I had just paid more attention to my Thursday self sooner.

So go find your Thursday self, and revel in it.  It may not be a day of the week.  It might be a coffee house, or a weekly phone call with someone, or applying that last layer of lacquer to a home project.  But showing your Thursday self to your wife, your kids, yourself, and the world, is just as important as paying any bill, or closing any deal.

It’s Magic.

In and Out

Now hear me child
Each day you have
Is rich with dreams and wishes
Sailing seas
Ascending trees
Swimming with the fishes.

Peering from an ice cream cone
Leapfrogging to Mars
Watching bees
To see if they sneeze
Driving speedy cars.

Helping make the pancake mix
Taking out the trash
Making a bed
Brushing your head
Turning pop bottles to cash.

Watching teacher demonstrate
Helping those that missed it
Holding Jan’s
Injured left hand
And stopping once to kiss it.

The world’s a gigantic stage
Where visions get their air
So dream my dear
And wish right here
While showing the world you care.

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