In the world of psychology, this concept is known as locus of control. Someone with an external locus of control often feels they are along for the ride but cannot change the course of their lives. If they are in a bad situation, this is due to external factors that are beyond their control. Someone with an internal locus of control feels they are captain of their ship. When they see a storm forming, they will chart a new course. They believe their actions can change the situation and will respond accordingly.
If he accepted his situation as hopeless (external locus of control), he would have concluded, “I cannot catch butterflies.” If he did not accept his situation, he would begin looking for options that would allow him to realize his goal (internal locus of control). The first step in the process of claiming control of one’s life is often found in establishing goals. He knew his goal—a butterfly collection—but because he was flexible about how to reach his goals, he was not trapped. In the end, he could reach his goal, but it would take perseverance and patience.
REFRAMING
When we choose to change our perspective about a situation, in which the facts remain the same, we are choosing to reframe the situation. When used positively, cognitive reframing offers a way to purposefully assign new meaning to an experience in order to consider it from a more beneficial viewpoint. The ability to consider alternate interpretations of a situation, in turn, can provide a deeper understanding.
A foundational academic description of the concept of reframing comes from the 1974 book, Change: Principles of Problem Formation and Problem Resolution in which the authors, Watzlawick, Weakland and Fisch provide the following, “To reframe, then, means to change the conceptual and/or emotional setting or viewpoint in relation to which a situation is experienced and to place it in another frame which fits the ‘facts’ of the same concrete situation equally well or even better, and thereby changing its entire meaning.”
The ability to reframe is also helpful when placed in a situation that is beyond one’s ability to control. For example, one summer, our family took a road trip of epic proportions. We loaded up the car in the heat of the Oklahoma summer and headed west with the goal of seeing the Pacific Ocean. In total, the trip would take us over 5,000 miles through several states in the Northwest. Our primary destination was a beach house located in the tiny town of Copalis Beach, Washington. We had chosen the location, 2,050 miles from our home, without knowing much about the area, but it was affordable and was not too far from Olympic National Park. We were looking forward to having a few days exploring the beach and the natural beauty of the region.
As we neared the house, our level of anticipation grew. The area is awe-inspiring with massive trees around every bend. The final mile or two of the trip was along a gravel and dirt road with a maximum speed limit of 15 miles per hour. We made the final turn, pulled into the driveway, and stopped. Before getting out, I scanned the property and noticed two things immediately.
The first was the condition of the rental home. When choosing a house using a website, one hopes that the actual home looks something like the photographs online. To our surprise, the photographs did not do the house justice. It looked better in real life.
The second thing that caught my eye was the active construction site next to our rental home. Less than 15 feet from the front door, which was located on the side of the home, a new house was being constructed. It looked as if the crew had just completed the first exterior wall, and based upon the amount of lumber that was sitting in the yard, they would be framing for the next week or two. I looked at my wife and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
On Monday morning about 9:00 a.m., a small construction crew arrived and began their work. To their credit, they were very good at what they did and worked steadily for the next 12 hours. We had hoped to be able to sit out on the deck of the house with a view of the beach, but with the music blaring from their boom box and the sound of hammers swinging, it was counterproductive. When we went inside the house, we had to turn the television up loud enough to drown out the sounds of construction. Although we consider ourselves low maintenance, by the end of the day, I was frustrated.
That afternoon, I looked through the contract to see if we had any options. I found “construction” had been listed under the “Acts of God” section. The paragraph stated there was no refund available. What bothered me was that we could have chosen another home if we had known there was construction. When we moved our things into the house, I noticed a Ring™ Video Doorbell on the front door. This meant there was a motion-activated video camera aimed directly at the construction site. Consequently, the owners had likely known, before we arrived, that the construction had begun. Although it was not their fault that someone was building next to them, I felt the fact that it was happening had been purposefully concealed.
I decided to write an email to the homeowner to express my frustration at driving such a long distance to stay somewhere peaceful, only to have the peace disrupted by construction they likely knew was underway. If we had been notified prior to arrival, we would have been able to make a better choice about whether their home was the best fit for our family. I was not expecting them to do anything, but I wanted them to consider the perspective of those who would be staying there for the remainder of the summer.
A few hours after sending my email, I got a response. The homeowners expressed how sorry they were about the construction. They shared they knew the foundation had been poured, but after it had been poured, there had not been any activity. They then stated, “If you can find another place to stay, we would be willing to provide a complete refund. If you choose to stay, we would like to offer 50% off of what you have paid.”
I was surprised by their offer. It had not been requested or expected, but I was grateful for it. After getting their email, we looked for options that would work for our family, and the family dog, but there was nothing available. I let them know we appreciated and accepted their offer of a 50% refund.
From that point forward, I decided to hear the hammer differently. I chose to give the sound of the hammers new meaning. Every time I heard the hammer strike its target, I imagined I was earning a quarter. Four hammer strikes was a dollar bill. By reframing the situation, what had once been a source of irritation had been given new meaning.
There are times in life when we are confronted by situations that we cannot change. Although we cannot change what is happening, we can change our perspective about what is happening. By reframing the situation, we force ourselves to consider alternative ways of processing our situation, which allows us to refocus and regain an internal locus of control. Instead of being a victim of our circumstances, we are able to add meaning to it.
DAVID NATANOVICH BELL
One of the people I met while working in Dubna was David Natanovich Bell. Over the course of three summers (1993-1995), I would have the opportunity to spend time with him in a handful of contexts. Although he was already 52 years old when I was born, he was the kind of person who could seemingly connect with anyone, regardless of age. Thin and a little taller than average, he was highly expressive and direct when he spoke.
During those three summers, we shared meals together, and it was an honor to have been a guest in his apartment. In many ways, he embodied Dubna for American guests. For most, he was the first person they would meet when they arrived in town. Also, he liked to take the visiting groups on a tour of the city to help them acclimate. Although he would give the same tour dozens, if not hundreds of times, it never felt routine. It was while on this tour that he and I bonded over the fact that his name was David and his father’s name was Nathan (David Natanovich), and my name is Nathan and my father’s name is David (Nathan Davidovich).
He was born on Saturday, May 14, 1921, in Houston, Texas, to Nathan and Anna Belkovsky. The Belkovsky family fled to the United States in 1910 following the death of David’s grandfather in anti-Jewish violence near
Kiev. To make the transition to their new home easier, they abbreviated their last name to Bell. During the time the family lived in Houston, Nathan and Anna had three children (Bertha, Leon, and David),5 bought a modest house, and joined the American middle class.
David was 10 years old in May of 1931 when his father returned to Russia to help guide a tour. While back in the motherland, an old friend who was an official in the agriculture ministry convinced him to stay. In December, the Bell family left the uncertainty of the Great Depression and the mild weather of Houston to join Nathan in the midst of the Russian winter.6
The Bell’s moved from their single-family home into a large house in Moscow that had been converted into small apartments. Their new home had two rooms for the five to share. It was a harbinger of what was to come when one of their neighbors, a communist bureaucrat, asked Nathan to give him one of his family’s two rooms. According to David, “Daddy refused.” The bureaucrat responded, “We’ll see.”7
It was on a Monday morning, March 14, 1938, that Nathan was arrested by Stalin’s police while sitting at his kitchen table. Accused of spying, an accusation he denied, he was sent to the Kazakhstan desert, and the family was turned out on the street. In the freezing cold of Moscow in March, Anna and her children slept in a park. David, who was now a teenager, would eventually find a place to live in a dormitory at his school. Anna, devastated and destitute, became a caregiver for the elderly in exchange for a bed.
Anna remained in Moscow until 1940, when she was able to join her husband in Kazakhstan. Nathan would live only another three years. David described his father’s 1943 death in a 2003 New York Times article. He said, “The diagnosis was heart failure. But he had no job, no income. There was hunger, absolute weakness. The word I use is that life just seeped out of him.”8
When Russia entered World War II—or the Great Patriotic War as they called it—in June of 1941, David was not immediately called up to serve in the Soviet military. At the time, he was a student in Moscow at the D.I. Mendeleev Chemical-Technological Institute. He and his classmates were tasked with logistical support and night shift patrols on the roof of their school, but he was not called up until April 1943. After completing an accelerated officer training, he earned the rank of junior lieutenant and fought on the 3rd Belorussian Front, which was formed in April of 1944.9 The losses among his comrades were heavy. In combat for 381 days, there were 166,838 Russians killed, 9,292 missing, and 667,297 wounded, ill, or frostbitten.10 In addition to serving as Commander of the Sappers, David was also tasked with the extremely dangerous job of removing rusted landmines. His most serious brush with death was when he stepped on a mine in a field that was so thick with explosives that if he had fallen, it would have tripped two or three more. Fortunately, he stepped on the smallest type of mine and when he did so, he had placed his full weight on the heel of his boot. The subsequent explosion launched him straight into the air, and when he landed, he was in the exact same spot. If he had landed in any other way, it would have cost him his life. He was injured three times during the war, but considering the plight of so many of his friends, he considered himself lucky to have survived.11
I can only remember talking with David about his time in the military on one occasion. Although we worked in Dubna, we would take occasional excursions to Moscow to see the sights, and when possible, David joined us. On this afternoon, we were walking through Red Square, and our little team was excited to be in such a recognizable and historic location. It felt surreal to be walking in the shadow of the Kremlin and Lenin’s tomb.
It was a pleasant and warm day, and our team was relaxed and having fun. At one point, someone said something funny and everyone laughed. Sensing that our mood was making David uncomfortable, I asked him if he was ok. At that time, we knew very little about his story. In the conversation that ensued, he said, “I think it is hard for Americans to understand what it is like to live in fear.” As an example, he shared, “During the war, there were informants in every unit. You were required to report anything that anyone said that might be in opposition to the government. To make sure they were getting the truth, the government would plant people in the unit to say things just to make sure they were reported. If you did not report what was said, it could cost you your life. As a result, you learned not tell anyone what you really thought. It was too risky. You never knew who might be an informant.” Although that conversation years ago, I can still see David’s face as he told me his story. He was nervous and changed his tone when he spoke. At the time, it did not dawn on me that these stories and insights had been suppressed for decades.
In exchange for his education, he was required to teach others for three years in a location chosen by the government. In 1950, David was informed that he would soon be sent to Siberia to teach English. It was during this time that his first wife, fearful of the life she and their daughter would have in such a desolate place, took their daughter and left. Following his three years, he returned to a town near Moscow to continue his career as a teacher. It was during this time that he met and married his second wife, Katya. In 1961, he moved to Dubna to teach English. He taught for 20 years and then retired.12
In 1986, David received a “peace lantern,” which included autobiographies from students who lived in La Crosse, Wisconsin. The lantern had come to him because the content, which included contact information, was written in English. The embellished paper lanterns were the brainchild of Dr. James and Mrs. Peggy Baumgartner. The La Crosse couple launched the Peace Lantern Project in the hope that the concept would create opportunities for peaceful dialogue.13
Based on his life experiences, David was deeply interested in any effort that would inspire and promote peace. Although he had wanted to travel back to the United States to see family throughout his lifetime, it was not until Gorbachev had relaxed travel restrictions that he was able to do so. In 1987, while on his trip, he went through La Crosse and met with Dr. Baumgartner. Based on the bond between the two, they decided that a formal friendship should be established between the cities of Dubna and La Crosse. Both men leveraged their influence to promote friendship and peace. In August of 1990, 20 delegates from La Crosse traveled to Dubna to sign an official sister city agreement.
Through this relationship, a steady stream of students, business leaders, artists, health care professionals, and politicians from Russia headed to La Crosse and vice versa. Meaningful and genuine friendships emerged, cultural understanding grew, and the quality of life was enhanced in both communities. When the Soviet Union collapsed and cities like Dubna, which were heavily dependent upon the government for support, were in need, their friends from the United States provided medicine and medical supplies.
Along the peaceful banks of the Volga River, on the outskirts of Dubna, there is an impressive and large rotunda built for outdoor events. In warmer months, it is an inviting location to sit and talk. It is among a handful of landmarks that are synonymous with the town. On Thursday, July 12th, 2007 a group of over 200 Americans and Russians gathered together at the Riverside Park in La Crosse, Wisconsin, where the Mississippi, Black and La Crosse Rivers converge. The group was there to dedicate the new Russian Gardens that had recently been completed. In addition, the citizens of La Crosse had built a much smaller, but no less inviting, version of Dubna’s rotunda. The crowning jewel of the gardens was meant to be a physical reminder of the importance of the relationships between the two cities. It was during this event, that the dignitaries from both cities, dedicated the rotunda in the memory of the person who had served as the bridge between the two cities, David Natanovich Bell.
Later in life when David had been asked if he was bitter about the tragedies in his life, he replied honestly. He said, “I’ve been bitter all my life, especially when my father was arrested. I felt very sorry for him. He was a very honest man, a very conscientious man.’’ But in Dubna, he said, “There’s something I have done which I’m proud of.’’14
/> Due to reasons beyond his control, David, as a fourth grader, was uprooted from his home and school in Houston and placed in the heart of Moscow. Because of the ideologies of his government, his father and grandfather’s lives were cut short, and his wife left him, taking his daughter too. It was not until he was in retirement that his greatest opportunity to make a difference would emerge. Fighting through fear and self-doubt, he found his voice. He could not change the past, but he could reframe his perspective on it. His bitterness regarding the loss of his father would remain, but he chose to use his pain as a catalyst for peace.
When I was in Russia, they used glass bottles for their drinks. Much like it had been in the United States in the past, the glass bottles could be exchanged or redeemed for money. David’s choice to reframe his situation created a path to redeem or exchange the pain he had endured for the sake of peace. The pain he had endured throughout life could not be erased or removed, but it could be a catalyst for good.
What area of your life needs to be reconsidered from a new perspective?
If you cannot change the situation, how can you reframe your perspective about the situation?
The past cannot be erased, but it can be redeemed. However, it requires a choice to do so. Your entire life can be changed with a single decision. What kind of life would you like to have?
Chapter 7
“The Awakening of a Giant”
The Voice of Movement
Mahalia Jackson was born on Thursday, October 26, 1911, to John Jackson Sr. and Charity Clark in the heart of New Orleans, Louisiana.1 The “Big Easy,” which is also known as the “Cradle of Jazz,” has been the birthplace of numerous American musical icons, including: Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong2, Al Hirt3, Fats Domino4, Sydney Bechet5, and Wynton Marsalis6. Even among this list of musical royalty, Mahalia Jackson, who would become known as the “Queen of Gospel,” stands alone.
Sleeping Giants Page 14
