Don't Wait

 

I’m going to start off dark but then I hope to end with hope and light. We had the funeral for a family member last week. Watching his grown sons was heart wrenching. Their dad was their hero, and he should be.

That is about the hardest thing a man can do. Every time I think of my dad, who has been gone for 26 years, I wish for just one more conversation.

Hey Dad, I’d like you to meet your seven grandchildren. They’re great kids. All of them. Hey Dad, did I do OK? Did I become the man you had hoped I would?

A friend buried his son this week. He was killed in an accident. This giant, good man is totally broken. I promise you it is every father’s worst nightmare. And yes, that’s worse.

I can remember when my son was attending college in South Carolina. He was there for five years and every single time when he was driving home, or back to school, I was in agony until I knew that he had arrived safely.

He’s 43 with a family of his own now but I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I still worry about him.  Every time he is driving somewhere late, I worry. He’s a good driver, but still, I worry.

I can’t imagine the despair if anything bad would have happened. It is unfathomable.

I don’t like the saying “life goes on,” but you know what? We are still here. And life is glorious if you make it so.  We honor those that have gone on by making the best of the time we have.

Like doing our best at everything we do. A PT buddy just sent out a list of things that don’t require talent. Like always having a positive attitude. And using good body language. Being coachable. Doing a little extra. Always being on time.

And enjoying the process. You don’t like practice? Look at practice as a chance to get better. My favorite offensive line coach used to tell his young charges during the week leading up to a state championship game, “we’ve got one more opportunity to get it right.”

Sports columnist Rick Reilly once wrote a piece that asked the question “why are we here?” It was his young son who asked the question. Reilly went on to talk about a lot of things like living in the moment, watching the big game, throwing an apple core at a stop sign.

“I've thought a lot about it, son, and I don't think it's all that complicated. I think maybe we're here just to teach a kid how to bunt, turn two and eat sunflower seeds without using his hands.”

When he was through with a wonderful list of things we might all do, his son replied "no, what I meant is, why are we here when Mom said to pick her up 40 minutes ago?" Reilly wove a wonderful tale only to discover that he didn’t understand the question.

That’s OK.  We’ve got plenty of reasons to be here now. I believe we’re here to love each other, make mistakes, tip our server extra because we can, open the door for a stranger, argue without being disagreeable, go places we’ve never been. We’re here to take donuts to the small business on a rainy day because, well, they’re really slow on a rainy day and can use the pick-me-up.

We’re here to pay it forward and give gifts where the recipient never knows where the gift came from. We all have a lot of life to live or we don’t, and that’s the reality of it. So, please, I beg of you, make the best of every moment that you have, not with the dread of no tomorrow but because of the possibility that there will be a tomorrow.

 

A Well Rounded Education

 

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about our graduating senior.  I mentioned that she was smart and athletic and a joy. But I forgot to tell you that she was a talented artist and musician as well. That one’s on me. I should have honored her other talents.

She played the trombone until she got to high school and way back, she took a few piano lessons, but those are the limits to her musical training. But the story doesn’t stop there. She can sit down at the piano and in a short time, knock out about anything that she has heard.

Her dad could do that. His aunt was a concert pianist and I don’t think that sort of thing is taught through osmosis but he is amazing at the piano. At his wedding to my daughter, he played a classical piece that would rival what anyone can do. And this despite never having had a piano lesson in his life.

Obviously, his daughter inherited that. She even writes some of her own music. If she had chosen that career, I have no doubt she would have been successful.

Then there is her art. As part of a school project, she was to paint a photograph of the rear corner of a red sports car. She shared the process as she did the painting then when it was finished, shared that as well. Here’s the thing—I thought her finished product was the photograph itself. 

It wasn’t!  It was her work. I paint, mostly abstracts, but she is gifted. You think that her cat that she painted is going to jump off the canvas into your lap.

Which brings me to the point of all this. I strongly believe that we need to develop all parts of our brain as we grow up. I believe that education in art and music and dancing and history and all those “other” things that you might not think is particularly important is essential.

Your best efforts at art may be a crude stick figure but I believe there is value in trying to draw the best stick figure ever. Or simply splashing colors on a canvas. I do that all the time.

As I said, I paint but I don’t really consider myself an artist. I paint for me. I can go into my little spare room/art studio and lose myself for hours. It is definitely my happy place.

I for sure don’t like everything that I do, but every once in a while, I get lucky and do something pretty decent. But as I said, I don’t paint for any other reason than the joy it brings me.

I believe that everybody has a little bit of artist in them. It’s in our brain. And if we never exercise that part of our brain, well, we just aren’t all the person we can be.

Same for music. It’s a part of our brain that needs to develop as we grow up.  That’s why some form of music education is important. If you can’t play an instrument, you can hum, sing, or whistle. Lack of real talent shouldn’t slow you down. I know people that can’t carry a tune in a bucket but they seem to take joy in singing along to their favorite song.

My music education started with the trumpet. I was actually in the high school marching band in the 7^th and 8^th grades, before it interfered with football. Because my Band Director, Mr. Lawson, was so good at his job, I could play anything with a mouthpiece and three keys. Baritone, tuba, French horn. Still can.

Believe it or not, I played in a variety of musical gorups in high school and early college. Daryl Lunsford, who made a career as a musician, would organize groups to play everything from rock to early heavy metal to a baritone quartet.

Yes, you have to study the three R’s—reading, riting, and rithmetic—and you know I believe it is essential to be physically active—but give your child the opportunities to develop all parts of their brain. Only then can they reach their full potential.

Fitting in

 

Everybody just wants to fit in.  This has been true forever (or at least as long as I’ve been alive, which, according to my grandchildren, is about the same thing) for people of all ages.

But I think it’s worse in junior high. Peer pressure and the pressure to “fit in” is immense. You see kids dressing alike, walking alike, hair is alike, talking alike.  Liking the same music. Having favorite things that are the same. And you’re not cool if you don’t.

Nobody wants to be “different,” unless they really, really want to be different. And then they look/dress/act drastically different just to be different.  Before I go any further, let me state for the record that this is OK.  More on that in a bit.

I remember when “bangs” and long hair became a thing. At least in my history, it goes back to the Beatles. They led the British invasion of pop stars arriving on our shores. Long hair and bell bottoms became the thing that everybody had to imitate.

I went from a flat-top to Beatle-bangs, with hair down to my eyes. Not “in” my eyes, mind you. Just down to them. The back was still short, sort of the opposite of the now forgotten (thank goodness) phase of business in the front, party in the back.

Our parents thought it was awful. As in the-end-of-the-earth-is-here awful. The Rolling Stones and The Who were going to ruin a whole generation.

And their parents thought that Elvis’s gyrations, which couldn’t be shown on television, were going to destroy that generation.

Would you believe that there was a period when some people thought that facemasks on football helmets were going to be the end of the game (although I must admit that advanced helmet technology has contributed to using the head as a weapon, which is a big part of the reason that we see so many head and neck injuries these days).

The simplest, plainest uniforms in football are probably those worn at Penn State. Two basic colors. No names on the jerseys. Their team motto is “Basic Blues. No Names. All Game.” Probably the epitome of fitting in. But I like it. Call me an old fogey.

I’m totally against the whole “look at me” approach to sports. Modifying a uniform with tape and bands on every body part. Over-the-top end zone celebrations. Screams and taunting and posturing after making routine plays.

In an all star game that I served in several years ago, a defensive back made a tackle 20 yards down the field and is then dragged another 10 yards before getting the ball carrier to the ground. The DB then jumped up and made the throat slash move like he had really done something. I can’t stand that stuff.

But here’s the thing—if you want to be better than the crowd, you simply must be different. You’ve got to work harder. You’ve got to show up earlier. You’ve got to WANT TO be different.

You’ve got to do the things that might not be cool, things others aren’t willing to do. It’s the pursuit of that difference that makes good become great.

I’m not talking about doing things that are illegal or that might harm your health. I’m talking about things like remaining coachable, especially when your friends don’t think it’s cool. It’s looking your coach in the eye and truly listening.

There isn’t a coach out there that wants anything out of you but your best, so give them the opportunity to coach you, even when your friends (or even your parents) might think your coach is an idiot. Be different. Be better.

Leaders are the ones that separate themselves from the crowd. Who are brave enough to be different, even if it means that they don’t fit in.

The world is changed by those that pursue their dreams with all that is in them, never giving a moment’s thought about what anyone else thinks about them.

Life the Life

 

We are about to get a new creature in our family. No, we’re not getting a dog. We’re about to have a high school graduate. Our oldest granddaughter is about to graduate from high school.

She has already made her college choice and is eager to get that journey started (as are most high school seniors). The next couple of weeks will be a rush of events with baccalaureate service, graduation, and all the events associated with all that.

The one that first made us grandparents has been a joy to watch. She’s smart (don’t take my word for it—check her test scores) and loves the outdoors. She’s tall and athletic, and could have played any sport she wanted to, but just loves to run, competing on her high school’s track and cross country teams.

I’m not sure she loves the competition so much. She just loves to run. If we’re on a vacation, she is likely to get up early and go for a run. I’ve never asked her what it is about running that she loves so much, but it does appear to be her happy place.

But isn’t that’s what it’s all about? If you love something, you’re going to chase it with all you have. Over the years, I’ve seen tons of athletes that might be best suited for one sport but the are passionate about another.

The 5’6” 150 pound linebacker. I’ve known several. They just want to play. And so they made themselves good at it. If I’m picking a team, that’s the kid I want. I don’t care how big he isn’t.

David Sweetland, Alcoa football’s offensive coordinator, played receiver at Maryville High in the 90’s and was spectacular. He also wasn’t very big and probably wasn’t that fast. But he was a player and could catch anything. And he was a difference-maker.

The 5’2” basketball player. Remember Mugsy Bogues? He could play! They list UT point guard Zakai Zeigler at 5’9”, but I’m not sure he is that tall. It doesn’t matter. The kid can play and makes everyone around him better.  

I’ve told the story for years about my son’s first sport. It was gymnastics. And he particularly seemed to enjoy the balance beam. And he loved going to Pat Dial’s gymnastics camps.

The only problem is, the balance beam is a girl’s event and, well, he sort of outgrew gymnastics. It didn’t take long to discover that his body was a bit more suited for football.

But I will always maintain that the balance and agility from those early gymnastics days served him well later on. He was an excellent skier and a heck of a basketball player before focusing on football where he went on to a career at Clemson.

My rule, and the rule that seems to have been adopted by my children, was that you had to play something. Honestly, it really didn’t matter what the sport was. And you had to put in the effort. If you worked hard at practice, you might work harder at home.

Here’s the best advice of the day: Give your child the latitude to chase their dreams—not your dreams. That happens enough that it has become a cliché. A parent wants the athletic success for their children that they never had when they were growing up.

I have seen parental judgement so clouded by ambition for their child that their child loses all interest in that sport. As a parent, you’ve got to be ready and willing to accept that.

That doesn’t mean that they can go home and jump on the computer every day—they still have to play something. I suppose I should be glad that cell phones weren’t popular when my kids were growing up. It would have been a constant battle.

Play a sport. Love a sport. Play the sport you love. Build an active lifestyle when you’re still but a child and it will serve you well for the rest of your life.