A Birthday Epiphany

I have walked this planet for 50 years now, give or take a week or so. And for roughly 25 years of those, I've been a just a little bit late.
The problem is not just the chronic rudeness of keeping other people waiting for me, as bad as that is, or having to crawl in front of six sets of knees five minutes into the main feature. The real cost is that I fret the whole way to whatever it is I'm late for (living in the future) and then feel badly about it once I actually arrive (living in the past). In all that flurry, where is the present?
It makes me a tad melancholy to reflect on how much of the beauty, education, rest and/or joy I've missed in the journey "in between" the events that mark my life.
At the half-way place--now there's some optimism for you!--I'm very clear that the journey IS the event. If I'm not present in the spaces in between, I'm missing a huge chunk of my own life. And life right now, in full health, well employed with an interesting job and great people, with more friends than I know what to do with… Life is good!
Here's how I've explained the math to myself: from now on, if I can be five minutes early for the "events," then I figure I'll not only really be here for all the years left, but I may even win back a few I've dropped along the way. Or at least, it will feel that way.
What have you talked to yourself about lately? I'd love to know.

A Great Question

On Monday, I watched footage of President Obama working a crowd at an elementary school. He must have connected with at least 10 people in the one minute video. Each time, he would grasp their hand, make eye contact and say the same thing: "Hi! What's your name?"
I've thought about this a lot in the intervening couple of days. The question "What's your name?" was so obviously intentional and incredibly effective in moving him through as many hands as he could get to. From a communications strategy perspective, I'm fascinated: why that question?
I have come up with a two-part hypothesis. First, I think he and his advisors are well aware that shaking hands with a man who will become the President of the United States within 24 hours is a staggering experience for most ordinary people. It's a sure-fire line drive into "deer-in-the-headlights 'I can't think of a thing to say!'" territory. What better way to give an intimidated person an immediate piece of firm conversational ground than to ask them the one question they are sure to remember in the glare of the moment: their name.
I think the second reason it was such an effective approach is that it permitted the swiftest, most profound interaction possible between a Great Man and an ordinary citizen. He gave them his hand, eye contact, full attention, and miracle of miracles, something short and intelligent to say. At his prompting, they gave him the most valuable thing they possess: their identity. He gets in, connects with huge impact, and with a quick "Joan, thanks for being here" or similar reuse of their name, moves on. Having said a single word and engaged for five full seconds, they stand in the glow that the President of the United States knows their name.
Brilliant economy of conversation. Wish I'd thought of it.