BrooksLooks @ A Career in Independent Hospitality

A Career in Independent Hospitality
Brooks Bradbury

1. It will bring you to places and present you with situations you have never imagined.

2. Whatever you give, it will ask even more of you–and challenge you each day.

3. The costs are high, and the rewards are too.

4.  You will come to know amazing people from all walks of life, and you will realize that serving everyone well is your life’s work.

5. You will become very familiar with HVAC, refrigeration, plumbing, electricity, cleaning procedures, laundry chemicals and the world of maintenance while developing an intimate working knowledge of sewers and septic tanks. Your knowledge in these areas will be tested when you have a full house, often on a national holiday.

6. If you’re lucky, you will savor some of the world’s finest foods and beverages.

7. If your staff is happy and respected–you will be too. Make it your personal mission to compassionately help people to get where they are going.

8. At times, you may regret your career choice but you will get over it, realizing that your chosen field is the most dynamic and exciting career path you could have chosen.

9. Networking is your second full-time job. See #10.

10. Remember that hotel owners are like everyone else–they will retire, get bored, decide to sell and die–not necessarily in that order. See #9.

11. As soon as you get comfortable,  expect change. Be ready. Be flexible.

12. Your life partner (if you are lucky enough to find one) will be challenged in extraordinary ways by your career choice. 

© COPYRIGHT 2016, Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks


BrooksLooks @ The Great Quinnipiack Club Soup Controversy of 2006

front_of_clubhouseAREA HEADLINES:

“SOUP CONTROVERSY BOILS OVER!”

“CLUB HULLABALOO OVER SOUP ON THE FRONT BURNER”

“STIRRING THE POT IN CLUB SOUP DEBACLE”

“SOUP BATTLE: A REAL BEEF!”              “STOCK POT TEMPERS FLARE”

“AD HOC SOUP COMMISSION APPPOINTED”

“Q CLUB ‘SOUP-GATE’ REVEALS CANNED PRODUCTS

WERE USED EXTENSIVELY…AND PREFERRED BY ITS MEMBERS!”

NEW HAVEN, CT — In an act of desperation, eleven Quinnipiack Club members from the club’s self-described O.F.& H.B.’S (old farts and has beens) presented a strongly worded request to the Board of Governors today. It seems the long-simmering issue regarding recent changes in the club soup recipe has bubbled to the surface at the venerable private club.

As a result, an ad hoc ‘Soup, Broth & Consommé’ Committee is now being formed to address the rather dicey club issue. A Soup Task Force commissioner has yet to be named. It was unknown at press time whether the club’s new soup is actually being dumped into the New Haven Harbor (a la the Boston Tea Party) however Club Q Soup loyalists are really stirring the pot and ladling out cries of fowl.

The heat is also rising in the club’s ancient kitchen as the new chef was unaware there were any old “recipes” as the soup rebels claim. It seems that the club’s vital soup secrets (and a rusty can opener) disappeared about the same time as the former chef.

It is rumored that the new chef (with twenty-five years of cooking experience) actually arrived with some of his own soup recipes. Chef Jack Hodes when asked if he knew how to make soup, replied, “Yes.” And, “My soups have always been made from scratch. I know they are being well-received by the other club members because they actually have taste now.” The chef reports that the usage of salt, pepper and crackers has shown similar gains concurrent with the new homemade soups.

Compounding matters, one of the new chef’s first acts was to bring all of the old canned soup, soup base, stock and canned vegetables that were in the club’s kitchen when he arrived over to the nearby New Haven Soup Kitchen. While not homemade, management was certain that less fortunate members of our local community would really enjoy the soup, canned or otherwise.

Uncannily, we’ve all been shocked to discover that the Soup Traditionalists actually preferred the canned soup over the new made-from-scratch soup! Temperatures are boiling over as vehemence and vitriol pour out! Meanwhile, soup sales at New Haven’s Broadway Soup Kitchen have soared ever since the delivery of the Q Club canned food products. This however seems to be related to unfortunate economic reasons rather than dissenting Q Club members actually dining over there now.

The entire unsavory issue may be brought to a referendum in order that common ground is forged among the group’s steamed-up members. The emeritus leader of the “Soup Party” claims that “with the hiring of the new chef, our revered club soups have disappeared from the menu!” Reports from other members label this as simply “hogwash.”

It seems a majority of members actually prefers the bold, new direction of having some taste in their soup! “I find the club-made stocks to make all of the difference, bravo to the chef!,” exclaimed one gushing chowder-head. The general manager has been bowled over by the controversy and has vowed to address the concerns of all ‘soup loyalists’ with compassion and sensitivity. The situation remains fluid.

The Great Q Club Soup Controversy Simmers On!

© COPYRIGHT 2014 Brooks Bradbury ǀ BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks @ Quasi Gray & Fuzzy

20190114_152514Quasi Gray and Fuzzy

life is quasi gray and fuzzy

while I hoped for more-finite

i’ve received my share of nebulous

while in search of black and white

perhaps approximate and nearly

is all we really get

instead of crystal clearly

and conditions somewhat met

doesn’t mean we give up trying

as the brass ring comes around

but to have a taste of everything

makes for life lived quite profound

would rather have a full slice of life

than to never know the breadth

but to know even just a little strife

provides dimension and rare depth

i’m getting kind of greyish too

my shoulders worn in slope

my days seem a whole lot more finite

as I’m learning how to cope

grey and dusky evenings

follow Arizona’s crystal days

perhaps the palette’s full of color

and all that really matters

is how we spin the platter

and where we focus our life’s gaze

© 2014 Brooks Bradbury | Brooks Looks

BrooksLooks @ Delirium

DELIRIUM
Brooks Bradbury

YOU TRIED TO LEAVE
YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL
NOW IT’S YOU WHO’S IN THE HOLE
SEEMS YOU WERE JUST A BRIDGE FOR US
A HERE-TO-THERE WITH TOO MUCH FUSS
YOU TRIED TO GET THE SHIP TO SINK
NOW IT’S YOU WHO’S SUNK, ‘S WHAT PEOPLE THINK
YOUR MACHINATIONS WORE MIGHTY THIN
NOW YOU’RE OUTSIDE LOOKIN’ IN
LET ME GET MY VIOLIN
NOW YOU’RE OUTSIDE LOOKIN’ IN

WATER RISING IN A SHIVER
YOU HELPED US CROSS A LITTLE RIVER
YOU ROSE AND PEAKED A SHORT TIME LATER
WE SMILED AT EACH ALLIGATOR
AS WE REACHED THE OTHER SHORE
YOU TAPERED OFF TO BUT A SLIVER
OVER SUCH A SLOW AND GENTLE RIVER
BOTH SIDES OF YOU ARE NOW MUCH CLEARER
TAKE A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR
HOLD OFF ON YOUR FINAL BOW
YOU WERE BUT A PATH FROM THERE TO HERE
A BRIDGE ACROSS THEN AND NOW

YOU TRIED TO LEAVE
YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL
NOW IT’S YOU WHO’S IN THE HOLE
SEEMS YOU WERE JUST A BRIDGE FOR US
A HERE-TO-THERE WITH TOO MUCH FUSS
YOU TRIED TO GET THE SHIP TO SINK
IT’S YOU WHO’S SUNK, S’ WHAT PEOPLE THINK
YOUR MACHINATIONS ARE MIGHTY THIN
NOW YOU’RE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN
HOLD OFF ON THAT GREAT BIG GRIN
NOW YOU’RE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN
I’LL ROSIN UP MY VIOLIN
NOW YOU’RE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN

LIFE’S HARD ENOUGH WITHOUT TWO FACED LIARS
PERHAPS THEY SIMPLY CROSSED THEIR WIRES
BUT LIFE CAN BE A LOT MORE FUN
NOW THE BASTARDS ‘R ON THE RUN
CAN FINALLY SEE THE SHINING SUN
NOW THE BASTARDS ‘R ON THE RUN
TRAPPED IN THE SILKY WEB THEY’VE SPUN
BASTARDS ARE FINALLY ON THE RUN
AND OUR SPIRITS WON’T COME UNDONE
NOW THE BASTARDS ‘R ON THE RUN

© 2014 Brooks Bradbury | Brooks Looks

BrooksLooks @ Additional Therapy Required

Additional Therapy Required

They were the matter-of-fact, high-wire requests every local innkeeper and inn-team fielded and responded to over the course of a frenetic summer in the Berkshires.

These were life’s serendipitous brushes with greatness in sweet and personal ways. People serving people. If we took too much time to think about each of these moments, we could have flirted with even higher levels of stress knowing that if we screw “this” up, the whole world would surely know!

On this day, Mary Tyler Moore might request a brownie sundae in the wee hours of the morning. Or Ann Jackson would require an impromptu ride back to NYC for husband Eli Wallach, who wasn’t feeling well.

Martha Argerich would require a well-tuned piano in her guest room. Such sweet sounds! Or Garrison Keillor could be stamping his feet because he was unhappy with his room.

Or Shimon Peres might prefer a bottle of Bordeaux this morning. No matter that his personal time zone was out of synch with Eastern Standard Time and local liquor laws.

Or Lyle Lovett and his band would prefer that our New England chef prepare huevos rancheros for breakfast at noon. Or Marlo Thomas might need some help setting up her off-premise suite this morning.

There was the moment James Taylor simply asked to purchase a newspaper. Or the night Ray Davies came to dinner. Or the time Buzz Aldrin required some technical help with his laptop.

The answer to such requests was always yes–of course–right away in the same way “How high do I jump?” was followed by “How long do I stay up there?”

There was that one day in particular when Marge Champion’s massage was the day’s top priority. That is, until Senator and Mrs. Ted Kennedy called from the road to request a massage therapist be ready on standby for their imminent arrival.

Oh, by the way “our limo is just passing through Worcester now.” This could be loosely translated as, “We need two massages the moment we arrive in order to make it to the grand opening in time.”

Yes. Of course.

It really was all very simple. Making it happen was what we always did. After all, a career in service is just that–a ministry of serving guests well and the daily dispensation of The Platinum Rule–serving guests the way they wanted to be treated.

It really isn’t WHAT you know at moments like this but WHO you know! In this case the Kennedy’s were well on their way and my loyal assistant Pam began the process of calling all the licensed, high quality massage therapists on our list.

All too soon, we arrived at the bottom of the list without success. Pam already knew it was time to bring out the big guns—for instance leveraging area massage therapy coordinators. I had to leave a message for my friend “LL”. She had her finger on the pulse of local massage therapy, although on this day she was busy like everyone else. I had to leave a message for her.

Minutes began passes like seconds as Pam had to resort to the “phone book”—we were approaching that desperate territory now somewhere between the rock and hard place. But at last, Pam found a therapist who WAS available right away.

About this point, I found myself taking a gulp of air—it was a male therapist who was available. Was he our only option? Yes. Did we know anything about him? Not enough.

In a moment of loneliness at the top, I gave the ‘go ahead’ not feeling quite settled with my decision. The therapist would arrive in 15 minutes and the Kennedy’s would arrive moments later. For better or worse, this die was cast.

Just then, the front desk reported the massage therapist and his portable massage table were arriving at the front door right now. I met him at the door and personally ushered him to the suite. It was show time.

I was cringing inside that the therapist’s appearance was not quite spa worthy as I walked him to the Fire House suite. There, I introduced him to the arriving Senator and Vicky Kennedy. It was a joy to see them as always, but now there were massages to attend to and their schedule was quite tight.

I left the three of them in the suite and I returned to my office still on pins and needles. Then the telephone rang. It was my friend LL. “Now you call!” I said, and she asked if I was able to find someone.

I told her who we found, and a deafening silence commenced on the other end. “What is it, I asked?”

“He was terminated for reports of improperly using his hands.”

More silence–as my entire career began passing before my eyes…

“What do you mean?!?”

“I can’t say anything more.”

As I hung up the phone, a feeling of dread cast its pall over my very life.

As happened frequently Kennedy family members would enjoy enjoyed a full and high profile stay and in this case, two days later they left before I could say goodbye. The uncertainty was unbearable!

At a chamber of commerce meeting a few days later, I had a chance meeting with a key Kennedy politico who provided my first chance to ask how the visit actually went. “Brooks, they had a wonderful stay as always!”

Not satisfied, I pressed for more feedback relative to the massage therapy. I was able to exhale when I heard: “The massage therapist was fabulous! Thank you for arranging this on such short notice! Ted and Vicky loved him because he was such a staunch democrat!”

A handwritten thank-you note followed from the Kennedy’s as it did after each family visit. I was breathing a little easier. A few days later, an article appeared in the local newspaper detailing the charges against the massage therapist. Somberly, I faxed it to LL. I don’t know about the massage therapist’s career, but mine would happily go on.

Somehow, a bullet was dodged! Joyful moments of service to others have always provided amazing dimension to life. Such is the pleasure of hospitality and a life spent serving others well.

© 2014 Brooks Bradbury | Brooks Looks

BrooksLooks @ The Crooked Road

20180204_175356THE CROOKED ROAD

if you’re a soul on the road less trod

people think you’re kind of odd

dancer to the different beat

of distant drums with footloose feet

in faraway places where trails are less traveled

modern trappings have all unraveled

unknown beauty in pristine places

of country folk and simple graces

stallions and canyons and pure fresh air

common sense is common there

days arrive in bright sunrises

and Mother Nature still surprises

we came to where there’s so much less

found plenty more and nonetheless

way out yonder in the wild west

are many ways to feel truly blessed

i wouldn’t change this crooked road

the sights we’ve seen nor the souls we’ve known

though moving around this much in life

is much too often if you ask my wife

we think about all the places we’ve been

a tapestry of time–and now and then

we imagine home–a humble space

to be enjoyed in a beautiful place

with much to ponder and recollect

perhaps there’s time we can reflect

that the best is really yet to be

though all the rest was fine with me

Copyright © 2013 Brooks Bradbury | Brooks Looks

http://brooksbradbury.com

BrooksLooks @ Chiricahua Cowboy

CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
Brooks Bradbury
September 2013

THE COOK REPORTED LONGHORNS
WERE COMING IN THE GATE
BUCKAROOS AT BREAKFAST
SOME WERE IN THE BUNK HOUSE
SOME WERE SLEEPING LATE

PRIT’ NEAR EIGHT MEAN CORRIENTE
AMBLED RIGHT UP THE OLD DIRT ROAD
POINTY HORNS A GLINTING
THEY LUMBERED TO AND FRO

THEY WERE FREE RANGE BEEF WITH ATTITUDE
AND IN ONE BY ONE THEY FILED
DANGED IF THEY DIDN’T GIT PAST THE CATTLE GRATES
LIKE A FARSIDE CARTOON GONE WILD

CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
HE’S ON HIS HORSE AGAIN
WE NEVER KNOW WHY
WE NEVER KNOW WHEN
BUT HE’S THE HOPE OF ARIZONA
LEAST FROM GLEESON TO PORTAL
THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
HE’S THE ONE THAT GETS THE CALL
ANY TIME ‘R OYSTER’S ARE UP AGAINST THE WALL
THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY, HE WILL SAVE US ALL!

ONE WAS UDDERLY FEMALE
IT WAS PLAINLY CLEAR TO SEE
QUEEN OF THE RODEO HEIFERS
ANOTHER RATHER BULLISH ONE
HE KEPT EYEING ME

THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
HE SAUNTERED INTO VIEW
HE WORE HIS LEATHER JACKET WITH FRINGE
SMELLED LIKE BEER AND LAST NIGHT’S STEW
BOXER SHORTS AND COWBOY BOOTS
HIS PANTS STILL IN HIS ROOM

HE HAD SPURS, A WHIP, TWO FORTY-FIVES
AND HE WAS ITCHING FOR A FEUD
THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
LOST BIG AT POKER AND LOVE LAST NIGHT
HE WAS ONE BIG ANGRY DUDE

HE WAS READY TO SETTLE THE SCORE
AND PUT THOSE BEEVES BACK IN THE PEN
A BEEFLY DUEL WAS COMING ON, IT SEEMED
WHILE IN THE SAGE, FRESH COWPIES STEAMED
THE HEIFER HUDDLED THE OTHERS THEN
WEIGHT WAS SHIFTED
HORNS WERE POINTED
THE BEEVES THEN THUNDERED IN

ALL OF A SUDDEN THE BRAWL COMMENCED
BULL WHIP CRACKED AND BULLETS FLYING
EIGHT CORRIENTE TURNED TAIL TO RUN
IN THE END THEY MET THEIR BOVINE MATCH
CHIRICAHUA COWBOY WAS SMILIN’
AS HE BLEW SMOKE FROM THE END OF HIS GUN

CHIRICAHUA COWBOY ROUNDED ‘EM UP RIGHT THEN
THEY WERE BEATEN LIKE HAMBURGER AND LOCKED IN THE PEN
“NEXT TIME YOU COME ROUND HERE
THE BUTCHER’LL MAKE IT CUT AND DRIED
AND MAKE LITTLE PARTS OUT OF THOSE CARCASSES
AND WALLETS FROM YER HIDE!

CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
HE’S ON HIS HORSE AGAIN
WE NEVER KNOW WHY
WE NEVER KNOW WHEN
BUT HE’S THE HOPE OF ARIZONA
LEAST FROM WILLCOX TO PORTAL
THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
HE’S THE ONE THAT GETS THE CALL
ANY TIME ‘R OYSTER’S ARE UP AGAINST THE WALL
THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY, HE DONE SAVED US ALL!
CHIRICAHUA COWBOY–NO ONE RIDES AS TALL!

© Brooks Bradbury / Innspired Hospitality

BrooksLooks @ Berkshire Dance

BERKSHIRE DANCE
Brooks Bradbury
Stockbridge Massachusetts
29 May 1999

It is invisible at first. You can’t quite perceive what surrounds you having arrived from points beyond with stress clearly visible in your eyes. The veins in your neck throb and protrude. They are surely the result of unhealthy dances you’ve been performing elsewhere. Only in time and by being still inside will the gentle rhythm and strong essence of the Berkshires be revealed to you, soothing you.
 
At first, you will be fooled. Your first pass through these Berkshire Hills, no doubt driving along and jumping to the conclusion that this Route 7 corridor is “all there is.” As if one paved road was the only dimension you could imagine. 
 
So What? You think to yourself. (You can’t feel it yet.) But if you’re in search of, or you only have time for the superficial, you’re best continuing on.   You will miss what’s here and the Berkshires will be lost on you. To those of spirit and openness, a place of wonder will begin to unfold around you.
 
When you are ready to perceive with all of your senses (i.e., more than five) these Berkshires will begin to make sense. Further from the pavement, it may begin as you notice quietness–the  joyful lack of mechanical intrusions, automobile horns and piercing sirens.  And this will build within you, as you receive the kindness of a Berkshire resident or you hear Nature begin to speak.
 
It will crescendo with a symphony and peak with an artist’s proof before your very eyes. Dazzle you from a stage, even leap at you from a “Pillow.” Or perhaps a genuine Berkshire essence will occur to you when you reflect on relics of the Berkshire past.
 
It is this Berkshire spirit that can transform your soul bringing you to a place you could be, inside. You will begin to ‘see’ what is here when you venture far beyond the roads into the corners to the quiet places—where solitude grows louder. Every idea is clearer here in these places–you’ll hear insects and breezes, brooks and trees.
 
Loudest of all, your thoughts emerge from the cacophonous static of a modern age onto a blank and tranquil new canvas in your mind where you might imagine more clearly all that is possible, where your life might lead you.
 
And then, your dance with the Berkshires has begun. And you’ll realize why we who live here move to an invisible rhythm, savor moments in time a little longer and treasure our lives more deeply.

Welcome to the Berkshires!
                                                                          You’ve arrived.

BrooksLooks @ Innkeepers

INNKEEPERS LIKE SLEEPERS
Brooks Bradbury
15 November 2013

IT’S NO SECRET
INNKEEPERS LIKE SLEEPERS
ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO RENT ROOMS
AND THOSE WHO DRINK WINE
AND THOSE WHO NEED TIME
FOR ROMANCE
LIKE BRIDES & GROOMS
AND THOSE OVERDUE FOR SOME VACATION
AND A LITTLE PRIVACY
ONE ASSUMES
THE DESPERATE FOR RELAXATION
AND RELIEF FROM CITY FUMES
THIS ABOUT COVERS
OUR WHOLE NATION

INNKEEPERS ITS TRUE
CAN REALLY VARY
BUT ALL GENUINELY OFFER
SANCTUARY

INNKEEPERS LOVE TO WELCOME EACH GUEST
THEY REALLY LOVE A FULL HOUSE
AND DREAM OF THE DAY
WHEN THEY CAN REST
IT’S THE GUESTS WHO COME BACK
FOR WHOM THEY ARE BLEST
INNKEEPERS OFFER ESCAPE
FROM LIFE’S TESTS

INNKEEPERS THOUGH
ARE A LITTLE OFF KILTER
PERHAPS ALWAYS BEING TOO NICE
MEANS THEY LACK SOME PERSONAL FILTER
OR THEIR UPBRINGING TAUGHT THEM
TO ALWAYS BE GIVING
OR THAT REAL JOY
COMES FROM HELPING OTHERS
WITH THEIR LIVING

THE WORLD’S INDEED A MUCH BETTER PLACE
BECAUSE INNKEEPERS WELCOME
THE WHOLE HUMAN RACE
THEN SEND PEOPLE BACK HUMAN AGAIN
TO THE PLACE THEY BELONG
AND BACK WITH THEIR FRIENDS

INNKEEPERS PERHAPS CONTRIBUTE
TO A LITTLE LESS TENSION
A LITTLE MORE LOVE
LESS APPREHENSION
MORE UNDERSTANDING
AND A REDUCTION IN STRESS
WITHOUT INNKEEPERS
THIS WOULD BE
A MUCH BIGGER MESS

HERE’S TO THE INNKEEPERS
A RATHER UNSUNG FOLK
MAY THEY SLIP INTO THEIR HOT TUBS
TONIGHT
FOR A WELL-DESERVED SOAK

IT’S NO SECRET
INNKEEPERS LIKE SLEEPERS
ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO RENT ROOMS
AND THOSE WHO DRINK WINE
AND THOSE WHO NEED TIME
FOR ROMANCE
LIKE BRIDES & GROOMS
AND THOSE IN NEED OF REAL VACATION
A LITTLE PRIVACY ONE ASSUMES
THOSE DESPERATE FOR RELAXATION
RELIEF FROM STRESS AND CITY FUMES
THIS JUST ABOUT COVERS OUR WHOLE NATION

INNKEEPERS IT’S TRUE
CAN REALLY VARY
BUT EACH OFFERS
A WELCOME TO SANCTUARY

© BROOKS BRADBURY / INNSPIRED HOSPITALITY

BrooksLooks @ Innkeeper Nation

INNKEEPER NATION
Brooks Bradbury

WE BUILD OUR BUSINESS SERVING GUESTS FIRST
WE ATTEND TO COMFORT HUNGER AND THIRST
THE GO-TO PEOPLE FOR RELAXATION GETAWAYS AND CELEBRATIONS
SOMETIMES SPEECHLESS AT WHAT WE BEHOLD
AT WHAT WE SEE AND WHAT WE’RE TOLD
AT TIMES CLUELESS, AT TIMES AMAZINGLY WISE
AT TIMES SO QUIET WE HEAR THE OVERHEAD RISE

WE CHECK LEGIONS IN, CHECK LEGIONS OUT
WE’RE PLEASANT EVERY DAY, NO DOUBT
WE SERVE CANAPÉS AND WINE AND CHEESE
WORK ENDLESS DAYS AND AIM TO PLEASE
TRIP ADVISOR CAN MAKE OUR DAY OR TURN IT ROUND THE OTHER WAY
GOOD REVIEWS MAKE US SEEM BRILLIANT, THE BAD GIVE US HELL TO PAY

IT SURE BEATS LIFE IN A CUBBY OR THE TEDIOUS NINE TO FIVE DRAG
WITH MORE WEEKENDS OFF WE’D BE EVEN MORE CHUBBY
PROBABLY HALF IN THE BAG
ALL OF OUR GUESTS BRING JOY TO THE HEART, SURE:
MOST ALL AT ARRIVAL AND A FEW AT DEPARTURE
WE’VE GOT HOLES IN OUR ‘TAPE CHARTS’ WE’RE DESPERATE TO FILL
THIS AIN’T FOR THE FAINT-HEARTS NOR THE OVER-THE-HILL

WE’VE GOT PLENTY OF SECRETS WE COULD GET OFF OF OUR CHESTS
ALWAYS GRACIOUS UNDER STRESS, APPRECIATIVE OF RETURNING GUESTS
WE CARRY BAGS, SHOW THE WAY, POUR THE COFFEE, CLEAN THE LOO
OFFER ADVICE–RECEIVE OUR SHARE TOO

WE SEE OUR GUESTS NAKED WITHOUT INHIBITIONS
AT TIMES LOCKED OUT IN AWKWARD POSITIONS
IN-TUNE WITH OUR GREASE-TRAPS, WE BRAVE THE OCCASIONAL MOUSE
WE KNOW THE DOUBLE EDGE SWORD OF A COMPLETELY FULL-HOUSE
WE CLEAN UP MESSES AND SPILLS, WE PAY HEAVENLY BILLS
WE FLASH MILES OF SMILES, VACUUM HAIRS OFF TILES
WE SILENCE BEDSPRINGS, FORTIFY WALLS AGAINST SNORES
RETURN LOST AND FOUND THINGS, SETTLE CHECK-OUT TIME WARS

WE POINT TOILET PAPER FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON
IS THIS IN THE HANDBOOK? ARE WE OVER-REACHING?
WE STRATEGIZE ON RENTING BEDS–DIAMONDS AND STARS DANCE IN OUR HEADS
WE SPEND LONG HOURS AT LABOR AT OUR INN VOCATIONS
WE “LIVE WITH” OUR CUSTOMERS AND HAVE QUITE A FEW RESERVATIONS

PERPETUALLY IN NEED OF A LONGER VACATION
WE ARE THE FAITHFUL OF THE INNKEEPER NATION
WE’RE GIVEN ONE CHANCE TO MAKE FIRST IMPRESSIONS
WE LOOK ASKANCE AT INDISCRETIONS

BECOME AN INNKEEPER—AND YOU’LL LIVE LIFE EVEN DEEPER
AND FLY BY THE SEAT OF YOUR PANTS
IT’S OUR GUESTS THAT WE TREASURE AS FRAGILE AND RARE
OF COURSE! MY PLEASURE! WHY YES, BE RIGHT THERE!
IT’S UP-CLOSE AND PERSONAL–WE ATTEND TO SYBIL-LIKE ROLES
SOMETIMES WE COULD BITE OFF SOME HEADS JUST TO SPIT IN THE HOLES…

BUT WE SMILE THROUGH OUR ANGER RESISTING THE URGE
WHEN WE’RE OVER-THE-EDGE AND OUT ON THE VERGE
THIS IS OUR CALLING WE ARE DESTINED TO SERVE
WE’VE GOT THE MANNERS, THE BRASS AND THE NERVE
GUESTS RETURN JOY AND LOVE US IN TURN
THEY RESPOND TO OUR KINDNESS, THEIR LOYALTY WE EARN

SNOOZING AWAY, IN THOSE EARLY MORN HOURS
WHEN WE AWAKEN FROM DREAMS OF FRETTE AND FLOWERS
REMEMBER THERE’S ONLY ONE CHOICE WE NEED MAKE
IT’S NOT WHAT ROOM TO CLEAN FIRST NOR WHICH MUFFIN TO BAKE
NOT THE QUICHE OR FRITATTA NOR THE GLUTEN-FREE CAKE

NOR WHICH POTPOURRI YOU’VE DECIDED TO USE
OR IF YOU NEED PADDED HANGERS OR JUST PADDED ROOMS
FOR THE HEART OF THE MATTER, THE REAL CRUX OF THE THING
IS WHEN YOU WAKE UP TO AN ALARM BELL RING
A MOMENT OF TRUTH ARRIVES EACH DAY IN YOUR LIFE
A DECISION YOU MAKE THAT CUTS LIKE A KNIFE
YOUR ONLY CHOICE IS THIS ONE, TO GET BY:
ARE YOU GOING TO LIVE? OR ARE YOU GOING TO DIE?

IF YOU’VE DECIDED TO DIE, PLEASE — FALL DOWN QUICKLY
LET’S SPARE ALL THE OTHERS FROM THE NEGATIVE AND PRICKLY
BUT IF YOU’VE DECIDED TO LIVE: THEN BY ALL MEANS FLOURISH!
GROW JOY IN YOUR SOUL, LOVE AND BE NOURISHED

IN THE FINAL ANALYSIS, IT’S THE GIFTS WE GIVE
THE TIME WE SHARE, THE WAY WE LIVE
THE GIVING BACK, THE BEING THERE
THE FRIENDS WE MAKE, THE WAY WE CARE
TIME GETS SHORTER, NUMBERED DAYS WHIZ BY
PLENTY OF WORRIES, TO PONDER WHY
IT’S AN INNKEEPER’S LIFE, A STRIVING TO SERVE
IN SPITE OF THE GRIND AND THE OCCASIONAL CURVE
WE ARE THE GIFTS WE GIVE TO THE SOULS WHO ARRIVE
EACH AND EVERY DAY IN AN INN, WE KNOW WE’RE ALIVE

© BROOKS BRADBURY | INNSPIRED HOSPITALITY 2013

BrooksLooks @ The Gift of Goodbye

January 2013

At that moment, it never quite sinks in. Perhaps only later are we able to understand the magnitude of the gifts we’ve received, as doors close and a chapter of our lives abruptly ends. Little do we know that our lives are only beginning anew as the next chapter is already being written. In time, one chapter morphs into another…and then one day, yet another, in the grand pattern of our unfolding lives.
“Ride the wave” is a common refrain among today’s wayfaring professionals. It is the case today of so many lives on the move. I’m think especially of those of us in hospitality leadership roles. Invariably, we must leave what we know to advance our careers, and accept a new position in a new community far away. In spite of seeking long-term commitments and a place we can call home for a while, employers change, owners die and the boss we loved decides to leave. We anticipate a long-term commitment and a new community we can call home for a time. Instead, recessions occur, employers change, owners die and the boss who’s hired us decides to move on. “Living forward” is important, we tell ourselves, knowing that with each new move there is always an inherent cost to our friendships, our families and even our psyches.
Occasionally we allow ourselves a furtive backward glance, before the current of life snaps our focus back to forward. Such is the case for me, when my time in the Berkshires came to a close, after calling this beautiful part of the world my home for over twenty years. “Twenty years!?” the recruiters would say incredulously, shocked that a tenure of such duration could actually happen in this day and age of shattered loyalty between employer and employee.
My career began and blossomed in New England. My family was raised here, I felt great pride, knew real pain and sorrow and at last, I truly fell in love here and felt great joy. I lived here! I came to love those Berkshire hills and peaks, ponds and people and the generally agreeable tapestry of life woven here. As I passed two decades of living in the Berkshires even local writer Milton Bass referred to me as a ‘local kid making good’ in one of his columns. He doesn’t know it, but it was as close as I’ve ever been to being thought of as a ‘local’.
The Berkshire Hills are far away now, so many memories receding in the rear-view mirror. It was magical time to be a part of the Berkshire scene, an honor to be included among its people for so long. It was an experience that has continued to age and mellow in my mind. Celebrations of hard work and accomplishment still resonate. So many friendly Berkshire faces still pop into my mind, moments I remember and the times our paths crossed. My time there was cocoon-like, as though a nurturing incubator prepared me for what was to come. When it was time to leave, it felt as though I were moving on, a graduation–bringing with it both excitement and some uncertainty along with the good wishes of so many.
Over the years, I had the rare privilege of earning my way up from an entry-level job to become The Red Lion Inn’s general manager, all in one very special place–Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Much was expected, much was given and much was gained there. I thank the Fitzpatricks for the wealth of opportunities they provided me, and for seeing some real potential in me. “Everything is Important” is the pearl of wisdom that has remained meaningful and relevent to me all these years. Thank you Jane Fitzpatrick for your nurturing and inspiration.
It was time to move on from Stockbridge. Real lessons of life were only just beginning, as I eventually accepted the gift of goodbye.
Then, a private club in New Haven, Connecticut needed rescuing. Years prior, legislation passed eliminating the deduction of membership and two-martini lunches from one’s taxes. Private Clubs began to founder, and in this denouement I entered the world of private luxury clubs for the first time–bringing a Fitzpatrick style of hospitality to a struggling city club.
Participation was paramount to my Berkshire experience, and I worked to introduce this private, largely male bastion to prospective new members and to a community generally unaware of the high-level, private conversations that transpired within its walls. There were difficult moments here including struggling to make the payroll each week, renovating unused guest rooms, even issuing bonds among members to replace the club’s ancient infrastructure.
I encountered genuine malfeasance among the club’s former managers, and worked to move them all along–building a new team in the process. I also discovered an employee shooting-up heroin in a rest room there; guests who’s vehicles were stolen from the street during club events; employee thefts; panhandlers and street crime. Oh my. I had truly been thrust from Norman Rockwell’s world into a new one. In spite of these occasional challenges, I enjoyed this urban experience, the amazing people I met and the real sense of community that flourished in New Haven.
New opportunity knocked, this time a call from Wisconsin. The Kohler Company needed a manager for their luxe private club known as Riverbend. It was time to say goodbye to the Connecticut shoreline. Susan and I found ourselves looking at a map to pinpoint exactly where Wisconsin was, then making our intrepid move to the city of Sheboygan along the shores of Lake Michigan. Club members here were very gracious captains of Midwest industry and they paid an initiation fee of at least $75,000 for the privilege being a member.
This was a big company experience, a very successful organization that remains independently owned by the descendents of the original founding family. At Kohler, many things came into focus as personalities and performances were probed and analyzed through psychometrics and the assessment of such tests as Caliper, Myers Briggs, Wonderlic and FIRO-B testing. This was also a wonderful introduction to the Midwest perspective. Go green and gold! I still think of your kind people, and artisanal cheeses. And Leinenkugel’s. I discovered an incredible work ethic here in Wisconsin and among my talented team of employees. It is unrivalled anywhere.
Opportunity then came knocking, this time from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. It was time to say goodbye to Kohler. A mysterious and reclusive billionaire was creating his first U.S. sanctuary in southern Appalachia. Meetings were held in Paris and Geneva and I was given the privilege and responsibility of opening a $40 million luxury Lodge and Spa atop a 12,000 acre Blue Ridge setting, in one of Virginia’s most rural and beautiful counties. It was my second such hotel opening, and a wonderful challenge.
Susan and I found genuinely interesting and sophisticated people in southern Virginia along the Blue Ridge Parkway. We also discovered a breadth of new experiences in this unspoiled setting. Locally made moonshine appeared one day on my desk as a unique welcome gift–the real deal. Wild ginseng still grows on the mountain sides there, and mountain lions prowl the ridges. Hunting and fishing are a life-style here–more necessity than sport. Music, sweet, joyful Blue Grass, was a gift passed on down to each new generation. No one ever played with sheet music either. We felt we were listening to the roots of American music in Floyd, Virginia.

Resilience, adaptability and ‘making-do’ all come to mind when I think of the great people of Patrick County, Virginia.

It took two years to build and open the lodge and spa as it opened in August of 2010 to a planned five diamond standard. Upon the death of the owner, his eight children were instantly thrust into key decision-making roles. Standards changed. Directions changed. My contract was over and it was time to say goodbye.
No sooner had the words left Susan’s mouth that she was “ready for adventure,” then the call came about a guest ranch in southeastern Arizona. The owner needed a manager and the ranch needed some attention to detail. Out came the atlas and off we went! We can now say we have lived the real southwest experience, there in the true wild west dreams of our childhood. Think Johnny Ringo, horses, barbed wire, water rights and silver mining. The very real town of Tombstone, Arizona was nearby and the old copper mining town of Bisbee well worth a visit.
Here, the Chiricahua Mountains in the extreme southern Rockies, was the ancestral land of the Chokonen Apache. Cochise and Geronimo walked these very trails, defending their ancestral homeland. The last Native American holdouts battled valiantly against America’s military until they were forcibly removed. We have found real strength of character here among the people of southern Arizona, along with profound quietness and a rare proximity to nature’s extraordinary diversity in what are known as ‘Sky Islands.’ Precious little remained of the Apache culture, except for shards of pottery found on our hikes. Here, I also removed my share of rattlesnakes and tarantulas from guest areas. Our guests were generally appreciative and we survived too.
Since living in the Berkshires, we’ve bought and sold six homes and lived in nine different states. We ‘let go of the proverbial rock at the bottom of the river’ allowing the current of life to take us higher and farther. We’ve had the privilege of living in very special pristine places beyond where the pavement ends, where the air is still sweet and clean and infinite stars sparkle in dark skies.
Addenda soon to be added:
Leaving Arizona, hello Great Smokies
Home at last, Colorado
Southern Utah

Next?

There are things and people we miss about each place we’ve lived, with plenty of pleasant memories all piled up. We are grateful for the gift of goodbye and the rich experiences that life has brought us since our time in the Berkshires out on the road to adventure in hospitality.

Thanks for reading this tome, for checking in from time to time and following along.

Brooks and Susan Bradbury

BrooksLooks @ The Opening of Primland, Luxury Lodge and Spa in Southern Virginia

An Introduction

Opening a Luxury Lodge and Spa in Southern Virginia

A few years ago, a New York City recruiter called to introduce me to a new project in a rural area of Virginia. I flew to Switzerland to meet the reclusive French billionaire, Didier Primat, who would offer me the opportunity and challenge of opening his new luxury Lodge and Spa in the Blue Ridge Mountains of southern Virginia. Knowing the family’s reputation for exceptional hospitality, I will always feel immense pride to have been selected for the challenge.

The grand ‘design and build’ project was completed at an investment of over $40 million for 26 exquisite guest rooms and gloriously opened to the public on August 31st, 2009. The cost of the hotel’s construction was much less than the nearly $1 billion required over three decades to improve the 12,000 acre ridge-top property, build its roads and infrastructure and to create a remarkable golf course designed by noted British architect Donald Steel.

Sadly, Mr. Primat never lived to attend the grand opening of his hotel, his first property in the United States. Little did we know that we would soon learn of Mr. Primat’s premature death at age 64 just one week after arriving on the property. This event coincided with the declining world economy as its free fall into recession beginning in 2008.

At the time of his death, Mr. Primat was the largest single land owner of real estate in France with family estates in Normandy, Alsace, Limoges and Paris. He also owned properties all over the world as well as 20% of the stock of Schlumberger Limited a multinational oil services company founded in 1926 by his grandfather and grandfather’s brother in 1926.

It was during my interview in Mr. Primat’s office at “Rouvrais,” beautiful estate of Didier’s mother Madame F. Schlumberger Primat in the pastoral outskirts of Geneva that I could sense Mr. Primat’s physical condition was in decline as he bravely faced the effects of esophageal cancer. I telephoned my wife Susan from Paris the next day, as we pondered whether to take on the project knowing the potential risk in the event of the loss of the owner. We decided to press on.

In spite of Mr. Primat’s death, the massive effort to open the luxury Lodge and Spa at Primland in Meadows of Dan, Virginia moved forward. As the project was launched, the pressure fell to Mr. Primat’s friend and confidant, asset manager Jean-Dominique Percevault of Paris, and to Mr. Primat’s children to continue advancing the huge sums needed for construction and to make the many split second decisions required on all manner of architectural and design issues. This was a tense time. A prolific stream of emails ensued between Virginia and the Geneva office, and the young Primat family members with lives of their own were now thrust into new roles.

It was a unique honor to work with so many very special people at Primland including Mr. Percevault and Mr. Primat’s eight children (Bérengère Primat Serval; Harold, Garance, Stanley, Kevin, Margaux, Flora and Justine Primat) their families and their mother Martine Primat. I consider it a gift to have known Mr. Primat and I am happy that our paths crossed for a time at Primland.

Driving for miles into the 12,000 acre Blue Ridge property on its then primitive dirt roads (now paved) across guardrail free precipices, I glimpsed the Lodge’s concrete decks and steel structure for the first time. The work site was in the midst of a pristine and wild Blue Ridge setting surrounded by a stunning golf course that was already open to play. The site would become a broad canvas on which hundreds of people would work together under time and budget constraints to create the perfect assemblage of people, furniture, fixtures, equipment and systems before we could welcome our first guests.

With little evidence of professional hospitality in place as I arrived, it was clear that the property would require significant change to become a credible hospitality venue. Few people understood the depth of the fundamental change that was required. As you might imagine, expectations were very high.

At the outset, it was the direction of the owner to create a five diamond standard. It would be a tall order to initiate the necessary change and evolve from that of a hunting and timber harvesting mentality to that of an extraordinary hotel/spa/golf complex. ‘Five diamond’ and ‘five star’ phrases were already beginning to appear in company press releases as I arrived. I cringed each time, knowing that there was a long way to go before the property could attain this standard.

As I look back, I wonder if this change is still evolving–the uneasy balance between the ‘way we were’ and the ‘way we’re going.’ It was a big change indeed for an operation heretofore designed for timber harvesting, wing-shooting and hunting native deer and turkeys to build the kind of culture necessary to welcome an upper echelon of travelers who expect a high standard of anticipative service—a tall order indeed.

Neighbors in the Blue Ridge Community took to referring to Mr. Primat as “the Frenchman”. More than a few were perturbed when early on, gates began to appear on his new Blue Ridge property—thereby shutting off a convenient and inspiring shortcut for mountain folk to get up, over and down the mountain.

That such a monumental hotel was being constructed in southern Virginia, in the county of Patrick, a largely rural and ruggedly beautiful wilderness area Primland seemed entirely incongruous. Perhaps Mr. Primat considered this a retreat, an American sanctuary away from his base of operations in Europe. At a minimum, the project was a substantial addition to the county’s economic development, providing jobs for over 150 employees and truly helping to put the little Blue Ridge town of Meadows of Dan squarely on the map.

“Up on the mountain” was how local folks described the county’s western half located atop the Blue Ridge escarpment. Here along the edge, was where Primland was created offering incredible distant views into the North Carolina piedmont. The lower half of Patrick county, to the east and south, comprised foothills and small towns the largest of which is the county seat of Stuart, named after locally born confederate hero Jeb Stuart.

I came to know many of Patrick County’s citizens as friends and enthusiastic supporters of Primland. I learned so much from them. They would share with me what was important about the area’s culture, and I worked to share with them all that was important in building a new hotel. Sometimes we were clearly at opposite ends of the spectrum trying to understand each other.

It is always an advantage to work with the local community rather than against it. This really helped create a first line of enthusiastic supporters who provide their enthusiasm and positive recommendations to visitors, even though they were a bit unsure of its mysterious European ownership. Local officials and business leaders were regular visitors and we were very proud to host all manner of community and chamber of commerce events, including open house celebrations for local guests.

There was above all in the community a spirit of sharing everything with everyone. I can tell you that “‘mater” sandwiches never tasted as good as those tomatoes grown on the mountain. An exotic can of sardines would occasionally appear out of a brown bag on the lunch table or even tins of Spam. Pinto beans are a local staple and were supplanted with the occasional can of ‘beanie weenies’ regularly washed down with a ‘Cheerwine’ soda or a caffeine-spiked ‘Sun Drop.’

Important lessons were learned about wing shooting, the ritual of deer hunting and the importance of turkey season. These animals (and others) provided subsistence for many employees year-round in the form of jerky and ‘deer meat’ lunches. In secret places in southern Virginia, wild ginseng still grows in the mountains and real moonshine is still distilled, tax-free of course. Apple butter is boiled down each fall and shared year round, chinquapins are still collected and ‘fried pies’ are ever popular.

These are the people of southern Virginia, underestimated and misunderstood by generations of Americans. I came to see in their Appalachian faces a strength and sophistication as great as any I’ve witnessed anywhere and to appreciate their unbelievable resilience. One underestimates these simple country folk at one’s own peril. If someone ‘fell off the mountain’ down into a ravine, got lost in the woods, broke an axle, got lost in the densely thick fog or faced timber rattlers and copperheads up close—I can tell you from experience these were the only people you could count on.

More than anything, the culture of the area was expressed in its soulful Bluegrass music. It seemed as if every family member here was taught to play and pick beginning at an early age. No one ever looked at sheet music! I am proud to say that Bluegrass Hall of Famer Sammy Shelor and his renowned Lonesome River Band performed for the grand opening of the Lodge adding a sweet local sound to the celebration.

Many heroic performances were required of Primland’s employees both tenured and new to open such a Lodge. The talents of a few very special consultants were also critical to success. I hope they always know how much their contributions meant to the success of Primland’s opening. We couldn’t have done it without Christine, John, Steven, Sylvie and others.

In the midst of enthusiasm and excitement as the opening drew near the usual pre-opening travail occurred–the luxury suite drain was clogged with cement left by the builders, improperly installed glass shower doors shattered upon dripping guests, and a hasty valet or two scratched up a luxury vehicle or two in the new parking garage below the Lodge entrance.

That first winter, un-insulated pipes froze and burst several times with water gushing forth into beautifully decorated rooms and living areas down through all four stories on freezing winter nights. In spite of all the challenges and difficulties a magnificent new Lodge and Spa opened and is waiting to welcome you to southern Virginia!

A world class golf course and spa, a one-of-a-kind telescope observatory (the likes of which you’ve never seen in a hotel environment) and even ‘tree houses’ perched on the edge of the ridge are only a few of the unbelievable aspects of the Primland experience.

In the observatory, the team created a wonderful “Tour of the Universe” program available most evenings after dinner in order that guests could see the celestial images coming through the 14 inch Celestron reflecting telescope. The 28 foot revolving, steel diameter dome was programmed to synchronize with the motorized telescope. Everything was digitally programmed to scan the heavens light years away.

I’m certain that Mr. Primat would be proud of his accomplishments today. Primland has gone on to achieve rare recognition as a L.E.E.D. certified hotel and to be included in the Condé Nast Travelers’ Top 25 Hotels of the World.

Thank you to everyone involved with this project, for working together to create a masterpiece. Thank you to each member of the Primat family, to Primland’s talented staff and to the many local Patrick County citizens who provided so much support, encouragement and timely insights.

I’ve enjoyed getting to know you all, and my life is richly blessed by you.

brooks.bradbury@gmail.com

© Copyright 2013 Brooks Bradbury | BrooksLooks

Photo Credit: Barry Towe

BrooksLooks @ Innkeepers

INNKEEPER NATION  

we build our business by serving guests first
we attend to comfort
solve hunger and thirst
the go-to people for relaxation
getaways and celebrations

sometimes speechless at what we behold
at what we see,  what we’re told
at times we’re smug, at times incredibly wise
at times it’s so quiet we hear the overhead rise

we check legions in, check legions out
we’re pleasant every day, no doubt
we serve canapés and wine and cheese
work endless days and aim to please

TripAdvisor can make good days, or turn them ‘round the other way
good reviews make us seem wiser, the bad give us hell to pay
it sure beats life in a cubby or the tedious nine to five drag
with more weekends off we’d be even more chubby
probably half in the bag

all of our guests bring joy to the heart, sure
most all at arrival and a few at departure
we’ve got holes in our tape charts we’re desperate to fill
this ain’t for the faint-hearts nor the over-the-hill

we’ve got plenty of secrets to get off of our chests
always gracious under stress, appreciative of returning guests
we carry bags, show the way, pour the coffee, clean the loo
offer advice–receive our share too
we see our guests naked without inhibitions
at times locked out in awkward positions

in-tune with our grease-traps, we brave the occasional mouse
we know the double edge sword of a completely full-house
we clean up messes and spills, we pay heavenly bills
we flash miles of smiles, vacuum hairs off tiles
we silence bedsprings, fortify walls against snores
return lost and found things, settle check-out time wars

we point toilet paper for some unknown reason
is this in the handbook or are we over-reaching?
we strategize on renting beds–stars and diamonds dance in our heads
we spend long hours at labor in our inn vocations
“live with” our customers and have more than a few reservations

perpetually in need of a longer vacation
we are the faithful of the innkeeper nation
we’re given one chance to make first impressions
we look askance at indiscretions
become an innkeeper—you’ll live life even deeper
and fly by the seat of your pants

it’s our guests we treasure as fragile and rare
of course! my pleasure! why yes, be right there
it’s up-close and personal–with changeable roles
sometimes we are tested by challenging souls
but we smile through anger resisting the urge
when we’re over-the-edge and out on the verge

this is our calling we are destined to serve
we’ve got the manners, the brass and the nerve
guests return joy and love us in turn
they respond to our kindness, their loyalty we earn

but snoozing away, in those early morn hours
we awaken from dreams of Frette and flowers
remembering there’s only one choice we need make
it’s not what room to clean first nor which muffin to bake
not the quiche or fritatta nor the gluten-free cake
nor which potpourri we’ve decided to use
or if we need padded hangers (or just padded rooms)

for the heart of the matter, the real crux of the thing
is when we wake up to an alarm bell ring
a moment of truth arrives each day in our life
a decision we make that cuts like a knife
our only choice is this one, to get by:
are we going to live? or are we going to die?

if you’ve decided to die, please — fall down quickly
and spare all the others from the negative and prick-ly
but if you’ve decided to live: then by all means flourish!
grow joy in your soul, love and be nourished

in the final analysis, it’s the gifts we give
the time we share, the way we live
the giving back, the being there
the friends we make, the way we care

time gets shorter, numbered days whiz by
plenty of worries, to stop and ask why
it’s an innkeeper’s life our living to serve
in spite of the grind and the occasional swerve
WE are the gifts we give to those who arrive
over our thresholds and up the drive

when it’s done and over,
we tally neither losses nor wins
we measure our success–by beloved guests
after all they’re the reason that we all keep inns!

© Copyright Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks 2012