You are making a difference

 

I had a recent visit back to my hometown. I was there to celebrate the life and passing of the Mom of one of my best buddies growing up, one of the “Three Amigos.”

Growing up, we were inseparable. We were as close as brothers, without the sibling conflicts. Oh, we had rivalries, but those were all on the tennis court.

Ronnie the handsome one, Teddy the best athlete, Joe the smart one. Or so it would seem. Truth is, we all had more in common than in difference.

We are friends to this day, and although we don’t see each other often, that deep bond is always there.  You may have friends like that—you can go forever without seeing them and then, when you do, it’s like time hasn’t passed.

It’s rare when all three of us get together, but when we do, it’s special. We remember good times and bad, telling many of the same stories.  It always comes up that we were involved in a food fight in college, each of us blaming the other for starting it. Truth be known, it was probably Marty from Oak Ridge, but that was a long time ago (a REALLY long time ago) and maybe the memory is fuzzy.

I was also able to chat with one of my high school football coaches.  Coach Gary Dutton was a Loudon native that played football at Maryville College and then coached football at Maryville Junior High. He and Alcoa’s Clint Abbot remain best friends to this day.

After coaching the 1967 MJHS team, he returned to Loudon to coach football there. That ’67 team is notable because that was the team that went on to win the 1970 State Championship at Maryville High.

I played for the Loudon team that Maryville beat on the way to the state championship in 1970. Loudon had won the ’69 championship so it was definitely the game of the year for both teams, as the winner was the odds on pick for a championship.

Here’s the sidebar that makes for an interesting story—since those were the boys that Coach Dutton had coached at the junior high, we knew their names. Johnny and Joe Emert.  Tommy Beaver. Jim Allison. Gary Burchfield. There were more.

I was a linebacker/guard on the Loudon team and I made a point of calling out the Maryville players by name. You can imagine their surprise, hearing their name called out.  I guess it was a bygone era type of trash talk but it was fun. Going into the fourth quarter, we were up 28-21 but two scores by Maryville, the second coming in the last minute, won the game for the Rebels.

I’ve now lived in Maryville for 46 years and have made great friends from that ’70 MHS championship team, including Coach Ted Wilson. It’s been a blessing.

But here’s the point to all this. After that game, a broken hearted Loudon linebacker was walking off the field when Coach Dutton came up to him and put his arm around him and told him that he was proud of him.

It was almost 55 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. It’s hard to explain why or how, but it truly changed my life.  Thank you Coach Dutton.

Coaches, teachers, folks that interact with kids and teenagers—you can make such an incredible difference in lives with the most innocent of comments.  Never forget that.

Carry Your Own Bag

 

Remember in school when you had to write an essay on Pet Peeves?  Maybe you didn’t have to write that one. I did. I have no idea what I wrote about.

Given the era, it was probably something idealistic about saving the world or lasting peace. Or barking dogs. Who knows. It was a long time ago.

If I was to write that column today, it would probably be about helicopter parents. I definitely see my share of those.  You know that creature.  Hovers over their child. Won’t let them speak.

I see it all the time.  The parent strides boldly into the clinic with their child 10-15 feet behind, head down, maybe looking at their phone. The parent does the talking. The parent fills out the forms.

Keep in mind, that a lot of the work that I do is with teenagers. It’s been that way for a long time. I believe it’s what keeps me young (but it may be more  about giving variety to my music choices).

Here’s what I see—parents that want to do everything for their child. And it doesn’t matter how old they are, from 6-16. And, tragically, older.

I get that parents don’t want their children to be hurt. I get that parents want their children to do more, have more, be more.  Boomers benefited from that.

Parents of Boomers went through a World War, maybe even the Great Depression (my parents did). They experienced the Korean “Conflict” then the Cold War. They saw (and some experienced) poverty and racism and the War in Vietnam.

Those parents defined wanting more for their kids than they had. My Dad quit school in the 6^th grade to go to work in a factory to support his family.  My college degree meant more to him than anything in the world.

So, I do get it. But what I’m seeing today is parents that won’t let their children develop life skills.

Let me tell you what a good parent does. The good parent lets their child speak. They don’t talk over them.  They let them answer questions. They let their child fill out the forms, instead of doing it for them.

The good parent doesn’t make excuse for a bad performance. They don’t allow their child to blame somebody else. “The referees were against you.” I hear that all the time.

“The Coach is an idiot.”  I hear that one too much too. Coaches make mistakes. They’re human, after all. But with very few exceptions, in my 47+ years of working with athletes, the coaches I’ve known wanted what was best for the team and for the players.

The good parent doesn’t try and coach their kid on the ride home from a game or event.  Just the opposite. They talk about their day and what makes their child happy.

The good parent lets their child carry their own bag.  

It's OK to ask for help

 

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to ask for? It’s not food nor favors nor a date with someone that you’ve been wanting to ask out.

It’s help.  Most of us find it nearly impossible to ask for help.  It starts early. One of my grandchildren was known for saying “I want to do it mySELF!” 

It’s hard to admit that we can’t do something. Anything. We want to be self-sufficient.

But sometimes burdens can be too great.  Sometimes the task is too large. Sometimes it’s just all too much.  That’s when you need to ask for help.

It could be something simple.  Sometimes, we just need to share our burdens with someone else. Yet, we’re reluctant to do so. Sometimes we need assurances that we’re on the right track. Sometimes we just need validation.

We think asking for help might be a sign of weakness, and no one wants to be seen as weak.  We think it might be seen as a sign that we can’t take care of ourselves and everyone wants to think they can take care of themselves. 

We don’t want to be seen as vulnerable. We might think that showing vulnerability is an opening for someone to take advantage of us. Sometimes we see asking for help as losing control of our own lives.

Sometimes it’s because we have an image of ourselves, or an image that we want others to see, and we don’t want to change that.

A lot of times we simply don’t want to burden others with our problems.

Often, we fear rejection. What if they don’t want to help? What if they think it’s because I’m being lazy?

We don’t exist in a vacuum.  We can’t survive alone. We are engineered to have relationships and communities. If you go back far enough, it was once necessary for survival.

Allowing someone in, asking them for help, may help the helper.   Connecting with others, asking for help, helps to grow a sense of trust. And believe me, you will find out who your true friends are.

We can’t do everything. Some of us think we can. “I can take care of myself!” But really, we can’t.  Oh, some of us are capable of carrying far more burdens than others. The reality is, though, that everyone has a maximum capacity—everyone has a point where they just can’t handle one more thing.

If we get in the habit of asking for help just before we get to that point, our emotional health, our physical health, the health of our relationships, will all work better.

Think of it like this. You’re lifting a heavy load. It’s more than you can lift. But getting someone to help you means you can lift it. Maybe it’s still not easy—it still requires some effort—but you can do it. With help.

If you need help, ask for it. If your burdens just seem too much to carry, ask for help. Give someone the privilege of helping you.