Help
There are many wonderful things that come
with being a published author, one of which is having your book added to a
library collection. It was a pleasant surprise to learn my book had been added
to the collection in my local library. It was an honor to later learn that my
book had been added into an archive of books written by Indiana authors, located in the Nina Mason Pulliam Indianapolis
Special Collections room, in the Indianapolis Central Library.
The selector ordered two copies of my book, one for the library collection, which library patrons can borrow from the library, and one to go into the archive. The selector then remarked that the copy to go into the Indiana Special Collections archive
should be autographed, since it will be in the permanent collection. I was all
too happy to oblige.
When I saw that my book had been added to
the special collection, I made my way to the Central Library to autograph the book. As
I drove to the library, I could not but help feeling an immense sense of pride
and accomplishment. I had published my first book, it was added to the library
collection, it was added to the Indiana Special Collections archive, and I was
invited to autograph the book.
I drove along the streets of downtown
Indianapolis without a care in the world. However my sense of pride quickly
turned to disgust when I hit a pothole in the road.
I hoped that the pothole had not done
damage to my tire. As soon as I entered the parking garage for the Central
Library, the thumping noise I heard let me know that my tire was damaged. I found a place to park and got
out of my car to survey the situation. Indeed, my tire had been flattened.
I then thought about what I should do. I
knew the steps to changing a tire; however, I had never changed a tire before.
After a few moments to think, I decided to go autograph my book, and then begin
to worry about what to do with my tire.
I went to the 6th floor of the
Central Library, to the Indiana Special Collections archive, to autograph my
book. My book was a new addition to the collection; in fact, the book was so
new, it was not on the shelf yet.
Being there, in the Indiana Special
Collections room, my sense of pride returned. I was in a climate controlled
room, surrounded by a myriad of books, books seated on wooden shelves, all
written by authors from my state. On the walls above the bookcases I saw a
mural on display, a mural called “the Book of Life”, by artist Tom Torluemke.
I have to say, standing in that room,
knowing that I held a place amongst the inductees, I felt a profound sense of
accomplishment. I knew what I was feeling was precious; this feeling could not
be bought in any store, and could only truly be understood and felt by those
already in the archive. The prestige of being a member of the
collection was an all-encompassing feeling.
I autographed my book with a special pen
I had brought for the occasion-a pen with a silver body and indigo ink. I
signed my pen name and the date, and a peace symbol, as I do with all my
personal correspondence. I then had my picture taken to mark the occasion.
As I left the Indiana Special Collections
room, my thoughts drifted to the problem of the flat tire on my car. I had been
shown how to change a tire years ago; yet, again, I had never actually changed
a tire myself. I pulled out my cellphone and looked up how to change a tire on
the internet….
At that point I thought about calling my roadside
assistance service. I then thought to myself...
I went to my car and began to work on the flat tire. I first put the
parking brake on in the car. I then removed the lug nuts from the tire, and
began to jack up the car.
I am a self-sufficient woman. I own my
own business for heaven’s sake. I can change a tire myself. I do not need any
help.
An hour later, I had the car jacked up,
yet I could not get the replacement emergency tire onto the wheel. Just then a
Good Samaritan by the name of Larry offered to help me. Working as a team we
found that I had jacked up the car in the wrong place, which in turn made the
car lower than I needed to put the emergency tire on. An hour later I finally gave in to the obvious and decided to call my roadside
assistance service. I thanked Larry for his help, for staying with me for over an hour trying to rectify the situation. Larry then left me in good hands, comforted knowing the cavalry
was on their way to rescue me.
I remained in the parking garage for
about thirty minutes before help arrived. Two gentlemen arrived in a car to
help me with the rest of the process. One of the men was surprised that I had
gotten so far. “You did half the work!”, one of the men commented. I replied,
“Yes I did," feeling a new sense of pride, having accomplished that much on the car.
I was on the road five minutes later. I should have called roadside assistance sooner, rather than trying it out on my own. But, I learned a valuable lesson-if you jack up the car in the wrong place, the car will not be high enough to get the emergency tire on. I also learned that I can change a flat tire all by myself, and that I do not have to.
I was on the road five minutes later. I should have called roadside assistance sooner, rather than trying it out on my own. But, I learned a valuable lesson-if you jack up the car in the wrong place, the car will not be high enough to get the emergency tire on. I also learned that I can change a flat tire all by myself, and that I do not have to.
Back in my car and driving again, I
sheepishly pulled out of the Central Library parking garage, suspiciously
looking for potholes on the roads as I drove. It was now late afternoon, and I
had not eaten lunch yet. I went to a local fast food place and ordered lunch. I
then went to a tire repair shop to purchase a new tire.
As I sat waiting for the new tire to be installed, I ate my lunch and reflected on the day.
Of all the luck. I got a flat tire after
hitting a pothole. I jacked up the car in the wrong place. I had to admit that I could not
do it myself. I needed help. I had to call roadside assistance. I cannot
believe I could not change the tire myself. Lesson learned.
I sat and wondered what I could glean
from this situation, and what if anything the two incidents could possibly have
had in common. The answer instantly came to me, in a thought that was not my
own:
You asked for help.
I thought about it for a moment, and it
was true. In both instances, I asked for help when I needed it.
I had asked for help from many sources
when I began to think about publishing a book. I consulted with a lawyer on how
to start a business. I attended a class on publishing where I got one on one
help from the author on every step of the publishing process. I then created a
document with all of the poetry I wanted in the book. I then went to my sister
for help with formatting the book, getting the right look of the text on the
page. I asked some close friends to read the proofs of the book, to see if I
had everything correct, to hear their points of view on how I could improve the
book. My book could not have gotten published without my getting help when I
needed it. I did what I knew to do at the time, and got help when I needed it.
Working on the car was similar. I took
the lug nuts off the car, jacked up the car, and could not get the replacement
tire onto the car. I could not do anything else to remedy the situation myself.
After two hours of trying to handle it, I called roadside assistance
for help when I needed it.
Incidentally, after this incident with
the tire, I did an informal poll of all of my female friends and co-workers. None of them had ever changed a tire. I
thought that was something that every adult woman knew how to do. As I have
found out, knowing how to do it and actually being able to do it are two
different things.
I learned valuable lessons that day, in
dealing with the flat tire. I now know that if I had to, I can change a tire by
myself. More importantly, I now know I do not have to. I can call the cavalry
to come and help me.
In the past I used to think that asking for
help was a sign of weakness. I am an adult, a self-sufficient woman. I should
be able to handle things on my own. And, for 98% of my life, that is true. Yet
there are times when I have needed help and have asked for it, and have received it. Whether it is
help publishing a book, changing a tire, even getting another person’s
perspective and insight on something I am writing, or a challenge I am dealing
with, asking for help is a good thing.
Asking for help when you need it is not a
sign of weakness; indeed it is a sign of the opposite, a sign of strength. It is an opportunity to learn and to grow in new knowledge. As
much as we hate to admit it sometimes, we cannot do everything on our own. We
were not meant to. We were meant to help one another.
If you find yourself in a position of
need, unsure of what to do, where to go, what to do next, do not ever be afraid
to reach out and ask for help.
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