Developing A Professional Image: Experimental Class Ahead

A few months ago, I found myself in a semi-heated discussion with an image consultant (a.k.a. personal branding guru). There isn't any transcript of the conversation because it didn't happen online. It happened offline, where many conversations about what I write here sometimes occur.

The catalyst for the call was a post — Branding: Why I Stopped Worrying About Being Batman — and why I did such a great disservice the emergent field of image consulting and personal branding. The entire post, she said, was borderline hypocritical given that I had once hired an image consultant.

Out of context, she had a point. Within context, not so much.

I hired an image consultant a few years ago because I knew there is some truth to Color Seasons. Different skin colors and complexions look better with different colors and horrendous with others. And while I know a few things about design and fashion, I had no clue what colors worked for me.

So, I found someone better at this stuff than me to help figure it out. And for several hours, she held up a hundred colors in order to give me a palette to test against the next time I went shopping, which is pretty rare (and half the time I forget the palette anyway). But I drew the line on everything else.

The reason is simple enough. I have a difficult time reconciling the dress for success concept of personal branding, especially as it has permeated social networks with some personal branding folks telling people that their social network pics provide the first impression of who you are to the world.

This worry over first impressions doesn't end with fashion. It seems to encompass everything: what we write, like, share, read, see, comment about, respond to, how we respond, when we respond, and a long list of more indicators online and offline. It's not much different than those "tells" people warn you about — offline tips like shining your shoes or only salting food after you taste it.

Sure, I suppose I could argue that some personal branding concepts work to some degree, but one has to be careful. Not all, but many personal branding consultants forget that real "branding" is not about style. It's about substance. It's about self-awareness. It's about authenticity. And it's about you.

I believe this so strongly that when the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, asked if I could teach an experimental seminar that could help people with their professional development in order to gain a competitive advantage in the job market (or as account executives and salespeople), I said absolutely.

Projecting A Professional Image at the University Of Nevada, Las Vegas. 

The 3-hour class will be held from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. on Jan. 31. The focus is on developing an authentic professional image for a competitive job market and economic marketplace, including the challenge that many people have with reconciling their so-called personal and professional separations, online, offline, wherever. Anyone attending can expect something different than the standard fare.

You see, it seems to me that you can wrap up any product in fancy packaging, but that doesn't make it effective in the environment where it will be used. This is the cornerstone of my Fragile Brand Theory, which suggests that brand failures or reputation crashes do not happen because of the nature of people, places, or things. They happen because persons, places, or things pretend to be something else.

This is why some executives give speeches wearing nothing more than pajamas and others put on expensive suits for the most casual of meetings. The notion that we must dress for success is somewhat of a misnomer. It's the substance, not the style, that drives reputation. Style merely helps convey it.

The class will help sort it out, including that style doesn't just say something about an individual. It says something about how we hope to connect with the anticipated audience. Ergo, construction workers tend to clam up on a construction site if you try to interview them in a suit and wedding guests would find someone wearing pajamas a bit too disruptive for an event celebrating someone else.

Right. Canned packaging disrupts as much as looking unkept. So this class starts where it counts.

• How an authentic professional image differs from personal branding
• How to develop messages that can set yourself apart from competitors
• How to maintain authenticity and empathy in differing environments
• How to reconcile who you are on social networks, without faking it
• How to feel good about who you are and add substance to the offering

Registration for the experimental class can be found here. I call it experimental because this one-time session will be used to gauge interest in a future 3-part workshop, with take home assignments and exercises. After the class concludes, at least one presentation deck will be published within a post.

Reporting Responsibly: The Psychology Of Rights

Sometime in the 1990s, I signed on to pen a few articles for the most aggressive First Amendment advocacy magazine I've ever read. The content was rough enough that I still sometimes question my decision to participate. I have and had mixed feelings for a couple of the columns I wrote, although they were nothing compared to some of material submitted by others. But that is why I wrote them.

I was challenging my own convictions. I was contributing to a publication Stephen King supported, which was how I discovered it. I had also just recently participated in a win the ACLU had over the old America Online's TOS, which included an aggressive censorship policy against its members.

After a couple of issues, I dropped any future assignments, but it wasn't the limits of the First Amendment that shook me off. The editor/publisher and I had a falling out despite our developing friendship. The argument that did it was over the Second Amendment. I couldn't fathom that a publisher might hold one inalienable right up high but dismiss another outright.

The lack of responsibility and hypocrisy of the Journal News. 

This previous experience was one of the first things that came to mind when I read about the Journal News publishing a map that included the names and addresses of almost 34,000 gun owners. The story, which began two weeks ago, has since escalated. In a case of tit-for-tat, someone decided to publish the names and addresses of the reporters and editors who work there.

Some of the editors are now unhappy and even frightened for themselves and their families. The newspaper has even reported that someone sent bags of white power to their offices, reminiscent of the terrorist scares several years ago. The paper's publisher, Janet Hasson, has hired armed guards for the offices.

Assuming the white powder reports are true, that is unquestionably over the line. But the rest of it, the publishing of names and addresses of reporters and editors, was fair. The paper's own blatant disregard for the responsibility that comes with the freedom of the press wasn't well thought out. The fear they feel isn't much different than the fear they instilled in gun owners and non-gun owners alike.

Perhaps one of my colleagues said it best, pointing out that at least some of those people on the list might be stalker victims or domestic violence victims, only purchasing a gun out of personal necessity. Or maybe there is even more to consider. Publishing the names of gun owners also gives criminals a potential list of gun-owning targets (or non-gun owning targets), gives neighbors a reason to be suspicious, frightens concerned seniors, gives prisoners the names and addresses of corrections officers and police officers, and invites everybody into everybody's personal affairs.

Incidentally, the map isn't even accurate. Many people listed have since moved or are deceased, making the map nothing more than an attempt to justify some notion that neighbors have a right to know who owns a gun or guns — an argument that suggests the public has a right to know which neighbors are journalists, people inclined to transform private lives into public affairs. It's all sad and silly.

The psychology of rights and press ethics.

Personally, it seems to me that there is a maturity in appreciating that the Bill Of Rights was included in the U.S. Constitution not because these rights were convenient or safe or popular. The Bill Of Rights are inalienable rights, meaning that they supersede the government's ability to grant them. They came about because it was the other way around. The citizens who made this government said they wouldn't give these rights up to the government.

Moreover, as inalienable rights, the expressed concept is that such freedoms are not granted by a majority at their privilege to a minority but rather owned and preserved equally by majorities and minorities alike, even when that minority consists of a single individual. In other words, we don't get to pick and choose which inalienable rights we want without the consequence of losing all of them.

That said, the Journal News might have been well within its rights to publish the map, but it doesn't excuse a blatant disregard for responsible news reporting. The same can be said for those who published the names and addresses of reporters and editors in an era where publishing is cheap and relatively easy, but I can't blame them. Equal opportunity sometimes breeds equal jeopardy.

What I do wish is that both publishers would have heard one of my former media professors challenge the ethical vs. free vs. responsibility perceptive of a free press in my media law class. He didn't speak about guns. Instead, he talked about the unwillingness of most newspapers and media outlets to publish the names of rape victims under the age of 18.

He proved his point by escalating the news value of the story, painting the progression that an editor might not publish the name of a 14-year-old victim, but would have a harder time not publishing her name if she was the daughter of a mayor, or if the mayor was responsible, or if other publications do. As he progressed, the hands of those who would not publish the name fell away with shattered convictions.

No, what the the Journal News did is not an exercise of two rights rubbing up against each other, creating the illusion that we have to make a choice. It is something much simpler. It is having the common sense to know that just because you can publish something, doesn't mean you have to publish it (or create laws to censor it). And maybe that is what the discussion ought to be about.

Overstating: Six Myths PR Brings To Social

As someone who works with one foot in public relations and the other in marketing/advertising (among others), I'm never surprised but always perplexed when one side attempts to trample the other. As communicators, we ought to be working toward integration while others don't think so.

Front and center on PR Daily was a post that screamed "6 Reasons PR Pros Should Manage Social Media." (Hat tip: Shelly Kramer. See her take on it here.) The article was written to prop up another article that carried much the same sentiment. Reading the original, however, was out of the question. The link was broken. Accuracy be damned.

Before tackling the six reasons, I ought to preface my position. Nobody owns social. In fact, I'm very much inclined to believe that anybody who claims "ownership" over the space demonstrates that they don't know much about it. Social media is an environment, one which not only helps integrate communication but will also increasingly converge with the real world. How can anyone own that?

Why Six Reasons For PR Pros To Own Social Are Really Six PR Myths.

1. Are PR Pros Experienced Storytellers? The claim is made that public relations professionals are experienced storytellers, mostly because many public relations professionals are former journalists. As experienced storytellers, they are naturally suited to manage social media.

This is a myth, four times over. The reality is that almost everyone in a communication-related field is an experienced storyteller, not just public relations professionals (and many public relations professionals are not great storytellers, which is why they pitch people who are). The only difference between these various storytellers is the medium in which they communicate and the creative restraints to which they are subjected.

Personally, I'm unconvinced that someone needs to be in a communication-related field to be a good storyteller or, for that matter, that all storytellers make good managers. Likewise, I don't believe there has ever been a study that proves 50 percent plus one of public relations professionals are former journalists, which even the public relations industry finds difficult to reconcile.

2. Are PR Pros Expert Communicators? The assertion is made that writing skills are essential to social media, which public relations professionals (as former journalists) possess.

Writing skills are essential to any position, but few people possess them. Not everyone in public relations (and maybe not many in public relations) are good writers. As evidence, visit PR Newswire. There you will find some of the worst abuses of the written language as supplied by the PR field.

3. Are PR Pros Are Always Relevant? The position is taken that public relations professionals are experienced in creating content relevant to a specific audience, which is needed for social media.

Most communicators, whether they are copywriters or marketers, are equally versed in demographics and psychographics. Many of them pore over data and establish connections with the same vigor. Unfortunately, for many public relations professionals, relevance is defined by whatever they think is important, which is why the field is sometimes subjected to public floggings.

More importantly, even if relevance can be important to social media, the concept of a specific audience is very different in the space. Social media simultaneously operates on a one-to-one, one-to-many and one-to-all scale, which is very different from the public relations world view of "publics."

4. Are PR Pros The Best Relationship Builders? The contention is made that public relations has always been better at relationship building and social media is all about relationships.

While social media is sometimes about relationships, it doesn't have to be. Many connections that people make online are relatively thin and a good majority of them occur based not the individual relationship between the social media manager and an individual, but the relationship between the individual and whomever pointed them toward some content. It's relatively complicated.

5. Do PR Pros Know Crisis Communication? The claim is made that public relations professionals are trained in crisis communication and issues management and are therefore equipped to handle things when something goes wrong.

There are scores of examples that both prove and disprove the claim. The truth is that most public relations professionals follow a standard step-by-step plan, which is better than nothing but not nearly enough. Risk management expert Dr. Thomas Kaiser said as much a few months ago. Crisis management and mediation require more than PR, especially as it relates to disaster planning.

Sure, some understanding of crisis communication is always a plus for anyone in social media. However, it's equally feasible for someone else to draft the crisis communication plan for a social media manager to follow in the event of an emergency. Every employee, not just those assigned to social media, needs to know about it too.

6. Do PR Pros Seek More Feedback? The claim is made that public relations has been charged with gathering feedback, but now they have the advantage of social media to collect and cull data 24-7.

Big data is certainly an evolving trend, but I think anyone would be hard pressed to prove that public relations has cornered the market. Marketers, researchers, and customer service managers have been working in the feedback arena too.

What is more frightening about this point is that the author went so far as to suggest that surveys and focus groups are largely absolute because of social media. It's not true. In order to make sense of big data, verification and additional insights are becoming more important, not less. It's all part of the changes and challenges sweeping communication today. Anyone in public relations should know it.

The net conclusion is pretty simple. Do you think public relations professionals are the right fit for social media? Yes, but not more or less than anybody in communication (or anybody outside of communication). And no. In some cases, they might not be the right fit at all.

What social media really needs is to be placed in a retrofitted and flexible communication model, with strategic planning at its core and tactical planning that can be executed across online and physical environments in such a way that people feel individually connected to a two-way communication stream that simultaneously reaches specific people and the public as a whole AND inspires internal spokespeople and brand loyalists to support it. (Yes, I purposely made that a long sentence.)

So is the person best equipped to head this up a public relations professional? I don't care. I'd be satisfied with whomever can get the job done and most executives would too. If that means the custodian who managed to create a 100,000 strong collation of good housewives and househusbands, so be it.

Why? Not a single skill set used as a reason for public relations to own social media is exclusive to public relations as a whole. Mostly, they are skill sets that come with individuals, not professions. And if someone happens to lack one of them, it's easy enough to enroll them in a class or two. What might be harder to teach, which is what the story seemed to lack, is empathy. You have to relate to people.

Advertising: It's An Invitation To Imagine

Expect to see plenty of communication foreshadows for the year ahead in January, but be wary of the ones that attempt to redefine terms. Advertising has an especially big target on its back this year, with some people calling it content, some people calling it mobile, and some people calling it a total failure. None of this is really new.

Advertising is an industry that has been driven by persuasion, awareness, branding, sales, and few dozen other terms since the 1950s. None of these starting points are wrong, per se. Advertising can be driven by all of these things, but ideally considers everything at once, within the context of a conversation.

“Copy is a direct conversation with the consumer." — Shirley Polykoff

Shirley Polykoff, who was the first woman copywriter for Foote, Cone & Belding, called it right in the 1950s and she is still right today. She based her career on it, with Clairol being her biggest success.

Did her advertisements sell too? Yes. She moved the hair color category from $25 million to $200 million. Did her advertisements persuade? Yes. She expanded the market from 7 percent of all women to 50 percent of all women in six years. Did she help the Clairol brand? Yes. It captured 50 percent of the market share, making it the clear leader in cosmetics for decades. She also told a story that sparked conversations, originally among housewives who wanted more glamour and independence.

Advertising was (and still is) a conversation, one that presents the possibilities. 

What some people squabble about today is what form that conversation should take, with most people leaning toward content marketing as a means to deliver it. I agree to a degree, meaning that I agree content marketing is where many people will set their sights. But I also temper the conclusion because if Polykoff wasn't engaged in content marketing, then what was she engaged in? Exactly.

Advertising isn't moving forward, it's moving backward with a few bright bulbs positioning themselves as the frontrunners of an old idea, repackaged. There is nothing really wrong with that. The circular nature of culture demands a certain degree repetition. And I can't fault people for claiming it's new.

But what I can do is help even smarter people understand why we moved away from conversation in the first place. Mostly, it had to do with the rapid advancements in visual communication — special effects and unrestrained cleverness — that became the conversation and made the brand promise and product possibilities secondary to the packaging.

The only problem with that stylish but less substantive trend, of course, was that social media amplified buyer's remorse by giving it a potential reach that could eclipse a media buy. Ergo, if a story leads someone to a conclusion that differs from the one they expect, then they tend to get pissed off.

Content marketing merely rolls the story telling back where it belongs. In today's world, Polykoff would still be revered a shining star in advertising because the content would remain the same while taking advantage of a better delivery system. Blondes, as her advertisements suggested, would still have more fun.

The only difference is that in today's communication environment, she could have had a platform to tell their stories along with the one that sparked their imaginations in the first place. Does that make sense?

Advertising is an invitation to consider an imaginary spark that allows people to explore the possibilities of something better, ideally defined as the product or service that can deliver it. Whether that means visual, audio, copy, online, offline,  or any combination is merely a matter of what best showcases the product (in the medium it is being presented in) and budgetary constraint. And everything else?

You are probably better suited to fill in the blank, especially as you review any campaigns this year.

Trending 2013: The Year Of Convergence

When people used to bandy about the term "convergence" as it related to media, they were mostly talking about broadcast and broadband. But nowadays, spend even a few seconds searching the net and you'll see that convergence in this niche has already happened. Almost anything and everything you can find on cable television has a connection to a computer screen, desktop or mobile device.

Sure, some organizations have a better handle on it than others, but digital is digital. The only barriers between television and broadband are the ones we create, clinging onto the past as if there are any real differences beside the screens we use to access them. Convergence means something else nowadays.

Convergence isn't between data 'types' anymore. It's all about merging the digital and the physical world.

While people still sometimes distinguish between "friends" and "friendz" on social networks, businesses have given it up. They don't have "customers" and "customerz" because they recognize that the same people online are the same people who shop in their stores or order services over the phone.

There is no difference. The medium will become increasingly indistinguishable this year, with the obvious exception of shaping its delivery. And any marketers who ignore this fact will be left behind.

It's easy enough to see convergence lurking around every corner. During the holidays, I was looking for a specific book to give to my son. A few people have read the heartfelt portion of the story (Dec. 17 post), which was recently republished by Aaron Johnston, one of the authors of the book. But there is the other half of the story that happened inside Barnes & Noble that relates to modern marketing.

It took a good half hour before I visited the customer service counter for help. I had already looked over the other possibility — from the science fiction section under Orson Scott Card and Aaron Johnston and new releases — and became nearly exhausted by the effort. With a couple of key strokes by the employee, she located the last copy of the book, which was sitting on a remote discount table.

It was the last copy in the store. I couldn't help but wonder why I couldn't have found it. And even if I couldn't do it using a desktop kiosk in the store, then why not my phone? Location-based technology (when I turn it on) already knows where I am. Why can't it help me find what I'm looking for there?

For that matter, why aren't books published with QR codes that automatically take you to an author page maintained by the publisher, author, or agent? Why isn't there an automated solution to pull up book reviews, recent articles, or content about the book, authors, etc. without any effort? And while I'm looking at all this content in the physical space where I can make a purchase, why doesn't the retailer give me an inventory of related books and products that are in the store (stuff I might never see)?

Who knows. Maybe I could hold a book in my hand and automatically access all of this, including any social networks where the author or authors have taken up residence. None of this is rocket science. The dots are there but we have yet to connect them between a virtual and physical world.

Moving beyond the bookstore would be simple enough. 

If this can be done with books, then other retail should be a snap. If I scan a code (or perhaps activate a proximity code on my phone) on a new car in a car lot, why can't I pull up every other car in inventory for price, gas mileage, and other comparisons? Why can't I consider every option beyond the one right in front of me or the one that the salesman decides to show me?

And if I really want to talk to a salesman, why can't I hit a call for service button on my phone instead of pushing him off when I'm not ready and struggling to hunt him down when I am ready? Who knows. Maybe I could prequalify myself for a loan right there or take in some of the sales specials that salespeople sometimes like to keep up their sleeves until they are sure you won't pay retail.

One would think that all of this ought to be second nature by now. It would be especially useful in sprawling stores like Home Depot or Walmart. It would be readily convenient if we need to find ingredient substitutes while shopping for groceries.

This is the kind of stuff that some B2B professionals have already integrated into their daily lives. (I never leave home without a digital portfolio, among other things.) But even as a consumer, I once resolved a customer service issue at Target by asking whether or not I would receive a better resolution by contacting corporate through Facebook. Where is the so-called boundary between online and off?

The first step is to stop thinking about social as a channel. 

Social networking is great, and I really enjoy that some communication work lets me operate in that space. But I'm much more fascinated with the next step, which integrates into our world as opposed to trying to prove that it has some independent value that can be measured in a vacuum. While it's possible to measure whether an organization is moving in the right direction; likes, shares, and so-called influence measures are meaningless and independent quantifiers of success. (More on that, much more, in the year ahead.)

Instead of thinking that social media and social networks can merely add communication value to the lives of the people we want to connect with, organizations need to start thinking about the technological advances that add value to the customer experience right there, right then, when they are engaged in retail space or wherever you might happen to meet. This is the kind of convergence we need in 2013.

Sharing Stories: Happy Holidays From Rich Becker

The Christmas Angel 

by Richard Becker

On the day after Christmas, old Joseph sauntered down the stairs as quick as his creaky knees would carry him. His heart was full of wonderment, his laughter-lined face alight with a glow he hadn’t felt since he was a child. 

Maybe today would be different, he thought. Something had to be different.

It wasn’t until he rounded the corner to see the twinkling Christmas tree that his heart began to sink. The scene was the same as he left it Christmas Day.

The white and green bulbs were ablaze, miniature twinkles dancing across the ornaments; tin soldiers and tiny dancers, glass balls, and nutcrackers. The presents, wrapped up in silk ribbons and sashes, were just as he left them. The paper was still snug to its seams, delicately creased and pulled tight like his late wife had taught him. 

Everything on Christmas Day had to be perfect, she had said. It’s too important to neglect. We don’t get many. We best not squander them.

“How many Christmas Days do we get?” he whispered. “How many?”

His wife had managed 68, but her last Christmas was expected. Cancer had taken some of the best of them and spared her the worst of them. The worst of them was yesterday. How many Christmas Days do we get?

“Six,” he said, frightening himself with the conviction in which he said it. 

His granddaughter had six. Yesterday would have made seven, but she never saw more than the anticipation of it. She had opened 14 windows on the advent calendar and he had punched the rest on his own. His tired hands always shook as they did it.

His eyes traced the silhouette of the tree, pausing briefly on the rocking horse before finding its center. She was there, slightly higher, an angel ballerina in the fourth position. His granddaughter had told him it was called a quatrième, one arm in and one over the head, her wings catching hints of green like a veil of illuminated effervescence.

***

“You can open it, Grandpa,” she beamed at him, hands outstretched and holding up the tiny box. “Open it!”

“Open it? Why, it isn’t even Christmas yet,” he feigned his protest. 

“It’s okay, Grandpa. It’s not a Christmas gift, really,” she smiled. “It’s for Christmas.”

“Oh, it’s for Christmas? Then maybe we better save it,” he teased. 

“That’s not what I mean,” she frowned at him. “And if you don’t open it, I will.”

“Oh, indeed you will,” he said. ”Let me at least see the wrapping first.”

“I did it myself,” she smiled. “Everything and all of it.”

“Everything and all of it, did you? You cut the paper?”

“Everything and all of it. I am 6 years old, you know.”

The attention to detail was uncanny. The reflective blue and silver wrapping with its fleur de lis pattern was pulled tight, edges creased by her tiny hands. The silk ribbon was carefully entwined at the bottom so it could be pulled over the sides and tied on top. And then, as a finishing touch, a silver bow hid away where the two ends had been tied together. 

He had opened a hundred presents just like this one. His wife’s meticulous touch was written all over it even if Emily had done this one herself. His daughter never had the same patience, but this precious skill seemed to have skipped a generation and survived. It made him miss his wife all the more.

His big frame swayed at the thought of her, springing up like a wave. The dizziness was so unexpected he barely caught himself. Emily was so much like her grandmother.

“You okay, Grandpa?” 

“Yes, yes. I better sit down at the kitchen table to open it.”

***

Joseph found himself retracing the footsteps he had taken just a few days before, from the living room to the kitchen with his hands clutching the memory of the package. He pulled out one of the vinyl-backed chairs, but didn’t sit down.

“A spot of coffee might do me good,” he had said to her.

He said the same thing again, but there was no one to hear him this time.

“One, two, three, four, and five,” they had counted out the leveled scoops together as he dropped them into the brown cone filter. As soon as he shut the top of the machine, she would push the button in a giggle of delight. She would always push it quick, she reminded him, in case he would have a flash of absentmindedness and follow through with his morning routine as if she wasn’t standing there. 

Once she even made him turn it off it again, right after he had accidentally gone through the motions. But it didn’t matter this time. There was no one waiting to push any button. There never would be again.

***

“Okay then,” he said, sitting down in the kitchen table. “It’s too pretty to be ripped open so I’m going to do this slow.”

As he took hold of the bow, Emily squealed. He stopped long enough to smile at her before resuming his practiced look of concentration, a medical doctor performing a gentle surgery on the world’s smallest patient. 

Clutching each of the loose ribbons, he pulled. They fell away in a cascade, leaving only the fleur de lis wrapping behind. He ran his fingers over the seams looking for tape that held it together and pulled it away. 

“Hey,” he exclaimed. “Now that isn’t that wonderful. You got me a box.”

“Grandpa! That’s not the surprise. Open it.”

“Oh, I thought it might be,” he said. “Silly me.”

The gift paper inside chaffed against the sides as he pulled it up. And there she was — an angel ballerina with her soft white dress fanning outward and her wings outstretched behind. She was perfectly cast, porcelain dressed in fine lace. He was immediately dazzled by every inch of it. 

Her legs were crossed, one in front of the other. Her arms caught in a motion, one tucked inside and the other reaching out to her right.

“This is called a troisième,” she said, mimicking the gesture before starting from the first position and gracefully following through to the fifth. “It is the third position. One, two ... three ... four, five.”

 “A troisième?” he said, looking up again for the first time. “I thought this was an angel.” 

“Grandpa!” she soured.

***

“A troisième,” he recalled, taking in too much coffee with a choke. 

Is that what she had said? Troisième? Or did she say it was a quatrième? It was hard to remember. 

Coffee in hand, he moved back toward the living room. He might not be able to remember, but the angel would. They had placed it slightly above center on the tree together, a position of prominence so it could greet him at eye level every morning and he would think of her.

“Troisième or quatrième?” he asked the emptiness. 

The angel’s hands were held high this time, both over her head, bent to make a graceful soft oval. Cinquième. The final position.

***

“So why do all the positions have fancy names, except the second?” He had asked her. “Premiere, troisième, quatrième, cinquième. But the second is just called the second?”

“I don’t know, Grandpa,” she laughed. “I’m only six.”

“Ah, and so you are. A premiere with your whole life ahead of you.”

***

He winced at the memory. He was wrong. One, two, three, four, five. It was a troisième when they placed it, but a quatrième by Christmas. He squinted at the impossibility of it. He had never seen a cinquième before.

“I’m not crazy,” he frowned. “Not yet. Not yet. It’s just a bad patch.”

He peered in for a closer look. But before he could take the angel in and find any previously unnoticed moving parts, his inspection was interrupted by a knock. His eyes strayed to the windows that framed the front door.

“Expecting someone?” said a whisper as clear as the last day he saw her.

“No, she’s not coming,” he said in time with the second knock. 

“Open it. Open it,” said the angel.

He took a step toward the door, toward the faintest of outlines as he saw it through the glass and curtains that framed it. The sight of it made his heart quicken and each subsequent step faster. There was a girl at his door. 

He was running by the time he reached it and pulled it open.

“Emily?” 

“Oh, Joseph,” she said. “You startled me.” 

He looked at her for a full minute, an awkwardness growing between them before she broke the silence and the spell. The neighbor’s girl stood before him and all the cold raced in on either side of her.

“My mom thought you would like some cookies,” Mary said. “They are not fresh. She made them a few days ago, but we couldn’t possibly eat them all. You know my mother. She likes to overshoot.”

“How nice of her,” he said, pulling at his robe and momentarily embarrassed at the mess. 

“Yes, bring them on in and you along with them,” he said. 

“I’ll put them in the kitchen for you,” she said, walking in slowly, hugging the doorframe with her back to get by him. 

“Or I could just take them,” he said before shaking it off. “Right. Your mom sent you to check on me.”

“Busted,” she shrugged.

“Never do something yourself if you can send a 9-year-old instead.”

“Something like that,” she said. “By hey, I’m turning 10 next month.”

“Yes, I know. Your birthdays were always so close.”

The reference made her pause, stop halfway to the kitchen and set the cookies down on an end table. As she turned back toward him to say something, the tree caught her eye.

“I miss her too, Joseph,” she said, hushing herself and quickly looking to change the subject. “Look here, you didn’t even open your presents.”

He looked at the tree, seeing a ghost of himself lift Emily so she could place the angel. It had only taken a beat before Emily had cut to the punch line. The angel was the opening to his heart.

“There, perfect. Now, about my Christmas list,” Emily had said, pulling a tattered list from her pocket while still in midair. 

He had spun her around as soon as she said it and hugged her, almost falling over in the process. Yes indeed, Christmas Day is too important to neglect. How many Christmas days do we get? One, two, three, four, five ... six. He had filled her list, every last wish. He did it early too, not wanting to waste a minute on procrastination but rather give it all up to anticipation. He could have never guessed he did it too early.

“They’re not mine,” he said. 

“Oh,” Mary said, her face sullen. 

“You open them,” he said. “She never liked anything her age anyway. She always liked what you liked.” 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I should probably ask my mom.” 

“I know,” he said. “Go on, then.”

But instead of leaving on the command, she ran up and hugged him, burying her head in his robe. It was soft, warm, and for the first time in her life she understood why Emily had gone on and on about it. There was something about Joseph that made you feel safe like a cub nestled to some ancient bear.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “ I can do this. We can do this.”

The two of them sat together for the next hour, Joseph watching as the girl unwrapped the gifts as carefully as he had wrapped them. If the magic of wrapping and unwrapping skips generations than maybe it can skip households too, he thought as he watched her.

As she continued, he shared something about each gift and why Emily had asked for it. Every one of them had a story. One, two, three, four, five of them. There weren’t many, but his granddaughter was never one for long lists. It was always about the giving and gratefulness, much like her grandmother.

“I should probably get back,” she said. “I’ll come back later for everything if my mom says its okay and if you don’t change your mind.”

“She would have wanted you to have these things,” he said. “And this ...”

He held the angel out to her, its delicate features captivating them both in the passing. Even off the tree, the jewels on her dress shimmered and her wings captured the light. She was smiling, something Joseph had never noticed before. Her arms were bent in a soft circle below her shoulders. Premiere. The first position.

“She’s beautiful,” she said. “You should keep her for next year.”

“No, she needs someone with their whole life ahead of them,” said Joseph. “But thank you, Mary. Thank you for making my Christmas wish come true.”

“Merry Christmas, Joseph,” she said, taking the angel from him and giving him a small but comically dramatic bow before turning away.

As she walked down the path, Joseph gave her a final unseen wave, hand up, and shut the door. He slowly walked over to the tree, meaning to bend down and pick up the carefully folded but discarded paper. But then he thought better of it.

He sat down instead and took in the scene. It was another important Christmas, one day late but no less significant. It might have even been the most important Christmas of all. 

He scanned every inch one last time, from the wrapping paper to the tree before settling on the space where he had taken the angel from the tree. It was still there, animated and moving through the positions. One, two, three, four, five. Premiere, second, troisième, quatrième, cinquième. The final position.

“Emily,” he smiled and closed his eyes as she reached out for him. 

She had come home, after all. And now, Joseph could go home too. When Mary and her mother returned a few hours later, there was no one left to welcome them.

###

This first draft short story was inspired by my daughter and her favorite Christmas ornament. There wasn't any other reason to write it, other than to put something down that reminds us all how lucky we are, no matter what.

Happy holidays. May every Christmas be your most important. All of them. Until after Jan. 1 then. God bless.