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Episodes
Tuesday Jan 12, 2010
Tuesday Jan 12, 2010
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxGNa1ho89g&feature=youtu.be
Airport Excitement
I don’t think Jesse had ever been on a plane before. He didn’t tell me this, but I wonder why he endangered our trip. I was his chaperone, and we were going to the National Debate Tournament. We were on our way to a week in Michigan, and I hoped to visit the Mall of America.
Well, if you have never been, you should try to get theresomeday. It's an incredible two story humongous mall, with a roller coasterinside. That’s right. There's a roller coaster inside the mall. Back then ithad Snoopy, Charlie Brown, Peanuts theme; it probably still does. But I almostmissed it all of it because of Jesse.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Jesse is one of my favorite studentsof all time. He was fun to be around, and he was also a very talented student.But there are some things you just don’t say at the airport. This was back inthe day before 9/11, but airport security has always been tough, especiallywhen you try to joke with the ticketing agent.
I understand the need for security, and the most recentaddition is going to be full body scans. This means there is a machine whichwill show the outline of your body. The security guard will be able to see anyexplosives attached to your person. I’m guessing they will also be able to seeany enhancements, or additions, or padding you may be carrying. It doesn’tbother me, but I can see why it might bother some women. I wouldn’t want to bescanned, but I guess if we are going to fly, we will all be scanned. I heardrecently one hundred and fifty body scan machines have been ordered for theUnited States.
I don’t even like to be weighed at the doctor’s office. Forsome reason, their scale always makes me heavier than the home scale. I don’t reallyweigh myself that much, but I also don’t want to have one of those calipertests, because I know my body fat is higher than it should be. But that’sbecause I like being fat. Well, I was skinny until after college, and being askinny guy is really a pain. So when I gained about fifty pounds in mytwenties, I was ecstatic. Again, I like being fat. Well, a little fat; notmorbidly obese, but I do have a spare tire. I carry my spare food with me.
I could be healthier, but I have run 3 marathons at a very,very slow speed. There were some parts of the race where I’m sure I was theonly one who knew I was running. It probably looked more like a hurry-up shuffle,but sometimes after twenty-six point two miles, how else is a fat guy supposedto look?
Jesse and I had big plans for this tournament. I had made abunch of t-shirts that really weren’t authorized for sale at the tournament. Iwanted to use the sale of the shirts to buy tickets to some shows that wereplaying while we were there. I set up a table; I sold the t-shirts, the moneywas rolling in. That is, until the guy who was in charge of the tournamentconfronted me and asked who had authorized me to sell this stuff. He wassatisfied with the one hundred dollars I gave him, and I have a sneakingsuspicion he didn’t tell anyone else about our little transaction, either.
The good news is we did get to see the shows, the Mall ofAmerica and even went to Planet Hollywood when there was still one there. Idon’t think there's a Planet Hollywood there now.
What does all this have to do with what Jesse said at theairport?
Well, I had arranged for these plane tickets in advance, andsince he was 18 by then, he was also travelling as an adult. Jesse has a reallygood sense of humor, and he liked to make people laugh. I looked at the ticketagent and decided this was a man who really didn’t like to laugh, and probably didn’tlike it when other people laughed. He had those permanently etched frowns yousee on people who have been at a job they really don’t like, for more yearsthan anyone cares to know.
So when Jesse turned to me and said, loud enough for all tohear, “I’m glad I didn’t bring the gun,” I frowned. The ticket agent frowned,making deeper wrinkles. There was a long pause. I envisioned men trying tointerview us in a small room while our plane left without us.
The ticketing agent asked if I was Jesse’s chaperone. I saidhe was technically a former student who was eighteen and now was travelling asan adult. The agent changed Jesse’s ticket to make me his guardian. We did makeour flight.
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Sunday Jan 10, 2010
Sunday Jan 10, 2010
Defender
The word champion can also be a verb, as in championing a cause, something you defend or stand up for. What will you champion this year? I will continue to champion the underdog, especially when I know there is unrecognized potential.
Most of us champion one cause or another. Some of us are more vocal or strident in our support for our special cause, while many of us silently support things others may never suspect. While championing a cause is sometimes passed down in a family, most of the time we develop our pet projects as we make our journey through life, observing inequalities and injustice we need to right.
Sometimes we defend those who aren’t able to defend themselves, and this kind of championing usually gets me into trouble. I step into many situations I should probably stay out of, and my wife usually advises me to stop; she’s usually right. We were in New York a couple of years ago, and when she stopped to photograph an amazing billboard, it pushed the crazy lady on the street to the limit.
As a New Yorker, she had probably had it with tourists stopping in the middle of the street to take photographs while she was on her way to her personality improvement class. She lost it, and started shouting at my wife. “Go home”, she demanded, and for some reason, I started yelling right back. “No, you go home”, I said, which was stupid, because she probably lived in New York. She yelled “Shut up”, and with all of the creativity I could muster, I shouted back, “No, you shut up.” Pretty original.
She started mumbling something, and I refused to back down. By this time a crowd had gathered, and was intently watching the two New York crazies. Well, I did my best even though I was from Utah. I shouted something like “Go away, nobody is listening to you,” which wasn’t really true, but again, when you are shouting at someone on the street, no one expects you to be brilliant.
By this time my wife had intervened, and wanted me to move along. It was good advice. But defending my wife isn’t the only person I like to defend. When I first became a teacher, I was amazed at the lack of faith most parents have in their own children. I found out I had to be the defender, and help them understand the potential of their own kids.
I need to explain about the classes I teach. At this time it was a Basic English class, and it wasn’t too hard to pass my class. I had several special needs students, who were excused from doing some of the work, but many of them were able to complete assignments as well as regular students.
One particular student was missing several assignments, and I was having a parent conference with her father. We discussed the assignments she was missing, and the fact that her grade at that time was an “F”. I was a brand new teacher, not used to the pessimism of some parents. I was flabbergasted when he announced, in front of her, that she was “too stupid to be in my class”. He continued by explaining how she couldn’t do this kind of work, and that is was his opinion she needed another class.
To say I was stunned is an understatement, and for a moment I was speechless.
But then I smiled at my student and turned to defend her against the onslaught of her father. I told him she was doing very well on the other assignments she had completed. I also told him if she made up the missing work, she would pass the class. I even assured him she would probably get an “A” or a “B”. He was momentarily stunned, but then began to insist there was no way she could succeed. I calmly and coolly insisted I had faith in her, and would make sure she made up the work. I stood to rise, and left the conference.
It was an amazing, dumbfounding, incredible thing to hear a parent call their own child “stupid”. I’m not the world’s best parent, but I don’t think I ever did that. If I did, I apologize. But my resolution to make sure this student passed my class was steeled. Maybe that was the plan, but I doubt it. He truly believed his daughter was too stupid to do the work, even after I assured him her other work was fine.
Again, my classes aren’t the world’s toughest, but my students learn. What she learned is I was her champion when no one else believed in her, and when she got a “B” in the class, no one was happier than me.
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Sunday Jan 10, 2010
Sunday Jan 10, 2010
Real Champions
Can’t we all be champions? Doesn’t everyone who plays deserve a trophy? Trying to define what a champion is led me to a quote by John Madden:
“The only yardstick for success our society has is being a champion. No one remembers anything else. “
That’s not a bad measurement. It still doesn’t tell me who a champion is. If you remember Lou Ferrigno, he was the hulk on the TV series “The Incredible Hulk”. He said:
“To be a champion you must act like one, act like a champion. “
Acting like a champion I understand. But, I know a lot of people who act like champions, but that still doesn’t give us a measurement or definition. If you follow the women’s golf, you probably know who Patty Berg is, and I like her definition. she said:
“What does it take to be a champion? Desire, dedication, determination, concentration and the will to win.“
I guess champions really don’t have to be world heavyweight boxers, athletes, or race car drivers. A champion really can be you or me, especially if we have enough desire, dedication, determination and concentration. We need the will to win.
Then I do know some champions. One of my champions is Jerry Elison, who taught at Orem high School for over 40 years. Then he returned part-time. He continues to inspire me though he is in his 80’s, and he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. You probably know someone like Mr. E.
I really do think many people are champions, especially those who continue to do their work quietly without fanfare, but have the will to win. They have the desire, the dedication, determination and concentration champions exhibit.
Even though I think of Newman from “The Jerry Seinfeld” show, I think the mail carriers are champions. I think teachers, doctors, emergency personnel, fire fighters, and police are champions. They serve with desire, dedication, determination and concentration. They have the will to win. But then, so do criminals.
In my motivational presentation, “B positive – more than a blood type”, I like to encourage people to be their best selves. In the phrase “My Best Self”, I stress that the “M” in “My Best Self” represents “Making a Positive Contribution”. It used to be “Makes a Difference”. But criminals can make a difference, especially if they are stealing your wallet. Earl Nightengale used this same justification to stress our efforts in this life should be positive, and contribute to the good in the world. I think that should be added to our definition of a champion.
This may be why the soccer philosophy may have spread in the world. The “everyone gets a trophy” idea really isn’t so bad. Most people really do their best. That includes workers, bosses, entrepreneurs, consumers, and probably even you. If you are doing your best, with desire, dedication, determination, and concentration, you may be a champion. If you have the will to succeed, you may be a champion.
If you are doing your job, providing for your family, caring for children; if you are making a positive contribution in this world, you probably are a champion. Think about a single divorced mother who has to go back to work to support her family. There are hours dedicated to work, to family, to sleep. Where two parents were supposed to provide a nurturing environment, now there is one. What better definition of a champion can we find?
But even two parents with children are heroes in my book. In fact, there are so many discouraging factors in the world today that anyone; mother, father, sister, brother, single, married, divorced, any race, creed, anywhere in the wide world; anyone who survives from day to day without major depression is a hero. There are so many reasons to lose faith, to be discouraged, to give up hope. But somehow, most people find a way to get out of bed in the morning and face another day. Abundance may be the reason. There is so much to celebrate, if we can just past all the garbage.
This poem is called Champion. It may describe you.
The average runner runs
until the breath in him is gone,
But the champion has the iron will
that makes him carry on.
For the rest the average runner begs
when limp his muscles grow,
But the champion runs on leaden legs,
his courage makes him go.
The average man's complacent
when he's done his best to score,
But the champion does his best,
and then he does a little more.
We weren’t given this world. We have created it every day we have been alive, and every person makes the world. One less, and it’s not the world we know. What can we do to champion a better tomorrow?
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Sunday Jan 10, 2010
Sunday Jan 10, 2010
Foot Race
I need to get running again, since I’m almost positive I’ll be running the St. George Marathon this October. I’ve tried to enter the race the past two years, and they have a 3 times and you’re in rule. I didn’t used to like jogging, but I’ve learned it is a wonderful way to exercise and helps me to focus on what really needs to be done during the next few days. My wife used to jog with me, and she still stays in shape by dancing. The last race we ran together was the Art City Days race, which is usually held in early June. This has been more than 20 years ago, but I still remember who won the race.
This was back when the race used to follow the parade route. It was fun since people were waiting for the parade and people from town would cheer you on. I like to enter this race because it is early in the summer, and it’s a great way for me to start my marathon training. There does seem to be a race every weekend somewhere in the county, so that means I can run at least once during the week. If I run every race during the weekends of the summer, and do some distance work, it really does get me ready for the big one.
I had always wanted my wife to run a race with me, and she agreed to run this one time. I was super excited, and hoped this would be a way for us to keep in shape. So when we left the starting line, she sidled up to me and said, “Would you please run with me? I don’t want to run by myself.”
What devoted husband could resist a plea like that? I throw myself on the mercy of the court. There really are only two choices. I could run at my usual pace, which was faster than she was running. I had been in many races by this time. She was running her first. If I ran with her, then I would be running at a much slower pace than usual, but then she would be running alone. Case closed.
We trotted along together at a comfortable pace, and all along the way we saw friends and neighbors. We waved and felt very good about the exercise we were getting, and everything was right with the world.
Since this is the old race route, the end of the race was also the end of the parade, just down from our house. It ended at the old Pizza Hut, which is now an insurance firm. We were literally steps from the finish line when I realized something was about to happen.
You need to know my wife comes from a very competitive family. Her dad was a football, swimming and track coach. Let’s just say they don’t like to lose. It’s a nice way to say it, and I won’t have to sleep on the couch if I stay nice.
Well, there we are, just yards from the finish line, and there is a little boy running in front of my wife, and I am running just behind her. I want to run ahead and beat her to the finish line, but I have to do some quick mental calculations. Will it make her mad if I beat her? I speed up a bit to test the waters. Remember, she isn’t a regular runner. She speeds up.
The gauntlet has been thrown. I sped up and tried to sprint ahead. It really is a sad picture if you think about it. A wife and husband, who every other day of the year will support each other in sickness and in health, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, to love and to cherish, unless they are entered in the same foot race and inches from the finish line.
Unfortunately, she was just too fast for me. She sprinted ahead, but still let the little boy beat her. But not her husband.
Now don’t misunderstand. We weren’t racing for first place. We weren’t going to be crowned the champions of the Art City 5K. I don’t think we were even going to place in our respective divisions. They have different categories for age and gender, for which I am very grateful. I have placed as high as second when there have only been two forty-year old males in my category.
And on this day, I would finish 2nd place in my family. My wife has forever after been able to claim she is the fastest runner in our family. She sped across the finish line and announced her retirement from foot races. To this day she has never run another race.
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Wednesday Jan 06, 2010
Wednesday Jan 06, 2010
This is another episode of “Abundance”, this installment is called “Reminders”.
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Tuesday Jan 05, 2010
Tuesday Jan 05, 2010
The Champion of the Weather
by O'Henry
If you should speak of the Kiowa Reservation to the average New Yorker he probably wouldn't know whether you were referring to a new political dodge at Albany or a leitmotif from "Parsifal." But out in the Kiowa Reservation advices have been received concerning the existence of New York.
A party of us were on a hunting trip in the Reservation. Bud Kingsbury, our guide, philosopher, and friend, was broiling antelope steaks in camp one night. One of the party, a pinkish-haired young man in a correct hunting costume, sauntered over to the fire to light a cigarette, and remarked carelessly to Bud:
"Nice night!"
"Why, yes," said Bud, "as nice as any night could be that ain't received the Broadway stamp of approval."
Now, the young man was from New York, but the rest of us wondered how Bud guessed it. So, when the steaks were done, we besought him to lay bare his system of ratiocination. And as Bud was something of a Territorial talking machine he made oration as follows:
"How did I know he was from New York? Well, I figured it out as soon as he sprung them two words on me. I was in New York myself a couple of years ago, and I noticed some of the earmarks and hoof tracks of the Rancho Manhattan."
"Found New York rather different from the Panhandle, didn't you, Bud?" asked one of the hunters.
"Can't say that I did," answered Bud; "anyways, not more than some. The main trail in that town which they call Broadway is plenty travelled, but they're about the same brand of bipeds that tramp around in Cheyenne and Amarillo, At first I was sort of rattled by the crowds, but I soon says to myself, 'Here, now, Bud; they're just plain folks like you and Geronimo and Grover Cleveland and the Watson boys, so don't get all flustered up with consternation under your saddle blanket,' and then I feels calm and peaceful, like I was back in the Nation again at a ghost dance or a green corn pow-wow.
"I'd been saving up for a year to give this New York a whirl. I knew a man named Summers that lived there, but I couldn't find him; so I played a lone hand at enjoying the intoxicating pleasures of the corn-fed metropolis.
"For a while I was so frivolous and locoed by the electric lights and the noises of the phonographs and the second-story railroads that I forgot one of the crying needs of my Western system of natural requirements. I never was no hand to deny myself the pleasures of sociable vocal intercourse with friends and strangers. Out in the Territories when I meet a man I never saw before, inside of nine minutes I know his income, religion, size of collar, and his wife's temper, and how much he pays for clothes, al imony, and chewing tobacco. It's a gift with me not to be penurious with my conversation.
"But this here New York was inaugurated on the idea of abstemiousness in regard to the parts of speech. At the end of three weeks nobody in the city had fired even a blank syllable in my direction except the waiter in the grub emporium where I fed. And as his outpourings of syntax wasn't nothing but plagiarisms from the bill of fare, he never satisfied my yearnings, which was to have somebody hit. If I stood next to a man at a bar he'd edge off and give a Baldwin-Ziegler look as if he suspected me of having the North Pole concealed on my person. I began to wish that I'd gone to Abilene or Waco for my _paseado_; for the mayor of them places will drink with you, and the first citizen you meet will tell you his middle name and ask' you to take a chance in a raffle for a music box.
"Well, one day when I was particular hankering for to be gregarious with something more loquacious than a lamp post, a fellow in a caffy says to me, says he:
"'Nice day!'
"He was a kind of a manager of the place, and I reckon he'd seen me in there a good many times. He had a face like a fish and an eye like Judas, but I got up and put one arm around his neck.
"'Pardner,' I says, 'sure it's a nice day. You're the first gentleman in all New York to observe that the intricacies of human speech might not be altogether wasted on William Kingsbury. But don't you think,' says I, 'that 'twas a little cool early in the morning; and ain't there a feeling of rain in the air to-night? But along about noon it sure was gallupsious weather. How's all up to the house? You doing right well with the caffy, now?'
"Well, sir, that galoot just turns his back and walks off stiff, without a word, after all my trying to be agreeable! I didn't know what to make of it. That night I finds a note from Summers, who'd been away from town, giving the address of his camp. I goes up to his house and has a good, old-time talk with his folks. And I tells Summers about the actions of this coyote in the caffy, and desires interpretation.
"'Oh,' says Summers, 'he wasn't intending to strike up a conversation with you. That's just the New York style. He'd seen you was a regular customer and he spoke a word or two just to show you he appreciated your custom. You oughtn't to have followed it up. That's about as far as we care to go with a stranger. A word or so about the weather may be ventured, but we don't generally make it the basis of an acquaintance. '
"'Billy,' says I, 'the weather and its ramifications is a solemn subject with me. Meteorology is one of my sore points. No man can open up the question of temperature or humidity or the glad sunshine with me, and then turn tail on it without its leading to a falling barometer. I'm going down to see that man again and give him a lesson in the art of continuous conversation. You say New York etiquette allows him two words and no answer. Well, he's going to turn himself into a weather bureau and finish what he begun with me, besides indulging in neighbourly remarks on other subjects.'
"Summers talked agin it, but I was irritated some and I went on the street car back to that caffy.
"The same fellow was there yet, walking round in a sort of back corral where there was tables and chairs. A few people was sitting around having drinks and sneering at one another.
"I called that man to one side and herded him into a corner. I unbuttoned enough to show him a thirty-eight I carried stuck under my vest.
"'Pardner,' I says, 'a brief space ago I was in here and you seized the opportunity to say it was a nice day. When I attempted to corroborate your weather signal, you turned your back and walked off. Now,' says I, 'you frog-hearted, language-shy, stiff-necked cross between a Spitzbergen sea cook and a muzzled oyster, you resume where you left off in your discourse on the weather.'
"The fellow looks at me and tries to grin, but he sees I don't and he comes around serious.
"'Well,' says he, eyeing the handle of my gun, 'it was rather a nice day; some warmish, though.'
"'Particulars, you mealy-mouthed snoozer,' I says -- 'let's have the specifications -- expatiate -- fill in the outlines. When you start anything with me in short-hand it's bound to turn out a storm signal.'
"'Looked like rain yesterday,' says the man, 'but it cleared off fine in the forenoon. I hear the farmers are needing rain right badly up-State.'
"'That's the kind of a canter,' says I. 'Shake the New York dust off your hoofs and be a real agreeable kind of a centaur. You broke the ice, you know, and we're getting better acquainted every minute. Seems to me I asked you about your family?'
"'They're all well, thanks,' says he. 'We -- we have a new piano.'
"'Now you're coming it,' I says. 'This cold reserve is breaking up at last. That little touch about the piano almost makes us brothers. What's the youngest kid's name?' I asks him.
"'Thomas,' says he. 'He's just getting well from the measles.'
"'I feel like I'd known you always,' says I. 'Now there was just one more -- are you doing right well with the caffy, now?'
"'Pretty well,' he says. 'I'm putting away a little money.'
"'Glad to hear it,' says I. 'Now go back to your work and get civilized. Keep your hands off the weather unless you're ready to follow it up in a personal manner, It's a subject that naturally belongs to sociability and the forming of new ties, and I hate to see it handed out in small change in a town like this.'
"So the next day I rolls up my blankets and hits the trail away from New York City."
For many minutes after Bud ceased talking we lingered around the fire, and then all hands began to disperse for bed.
As I was unrolling my bedding I heard the pinkish-haired young man saying to Bud, with something like anxiety in his voice:
"As I say, Mr. Kingsbury, there is something really beautiful about this night. The delightful breeze and the bright stars and the clear air unite in making it wonderfully attractive."
"Yes," said Bud, "it's a nice night."
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Monday Jan 04, 2010
Monday Jan 04, 2010
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Coach Flowers
I am a Champion
I will conquer what has never been conquered.
Defeat will not be in my creed.
I will believe where all those before me have doubted.
I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor and respect of my team.
I have trained my mind and now my body will follow!
I will acknowledge the fact that I am an elite warrior who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by any means at my disposal.
I accept the fact that my team expects me to move further, faster and fight harder than our opponents.
Never shall I fail my comrades.
I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be.
One hundred percent and more.
Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well trained warrior.
My heart and my soul will be the fuel to carry my body when my limbs are too weary.
I will never falter, I will never lose focus as long as there is hope in my mind and my heart still beats.
I will never give in to the evil that is weakness and I will fight that evil with my dying breath.
Energetically will I meet my enemies, no one will challenge me, none will stop me from my goal.
I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might.
Surrender is not a Champion’s word.
I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall at the hands of my enemy and under no circumstances will I ever surrender.
Readily will I display the discipline and strength required to fight on to my objective and I will complete my mission.
I will rise when fallen.
I will rip the heart from my enemy and leave it beating on the ground.
My enemy need not fear me but he will respect me and if he does not.
I will make him respect me with all that I have to give.
History will remember my name and he will not have to be kind.
For I will have denied his criticisms and put in my own praise.
No one will define me, no one will tell me what I can achieve, none will say I have not given all I have to give and none will take my glory.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature
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Monday Jan 04, 2010
Monday Jan 04, 2010
Real Champions
Can’t we all be champions? Doesn’t everyone who plays deserve a trophy? Trying to define what a champion is led me to a quote by John Madden:
“The only yardstick for success our society has is being a champion. No one remembers anything else. “
That’s not a bad measurement. It still doesn’t tell me who a champion is. If you remember Lou Ferrigno, he was the hulk on the TV series “The Incredible Hulk”. He said:
“To be a champion you must act like one, act like a champion. “
Acting like a champion I understand. But, I know a lot of people who act like champions, but that still doesn’t give us a measurement or definition. If you follow the women’s golf, you probably know who Patty Berg is, and I like her definition. she said:
“What does it take to be a champion? Desire, dedication, determination, concentration and the will to win.“
I guess champions really don’t have to be world heavyweight boxers, athletes, or race car drivers. A champion really can be you or me, especially if we have enough desire, dedication, determination and concentration. We need the will to win.
Then I do know some champions. One of my champions is Jerry Elison, who taught at Orem high School for over 40 years. Then he returned part-time. He continues to inspire me though he is in his 80’s, and he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. You probably know someone like Mr. E.
I really do think many people are champions, especially those who continue to do their work quietly without fanfare, but have the will to win. They have the desire, the dedication, determination and concentration champions exhibit.
Even though I think of Newman from “The Jerry Seinfeld” show, I think the mail carriers are champions. I think teachers, doctors, emergency personnel, fire fighters, and police are champions. They serve with desire, dedication, determination and concentration. They have the will to win. But then, so do criminals.
In my motivational presentation, “B positive – more than a blood type”, I like to encourage people to be their best selves. In the phrase “My Best Self”, I stress that the “M” in “My Best Self” represents “Making a Positive Contribution”. It used to be “Makes a Difference”. But criminals can make a difference, especially if they are stealing your wallet. Earl Nightengale used this same justification to stress our efforts in this life should be positive, and contribute to the good in the world. I think that should be added to our definition of a champion.
This may be why the soccer philosophy may have spread in the world. The “everyone gets a trophy” idea really isn’t so bad. Most people really do their best. That includes workers, bosses, entrepreneurs, consumers, and probably even you. If you are doing your best, with desire, dedication, determination, and concentration, you may be a champion. If you have the will to succeed, you may be a champion.
If you are doing your job, providing for your family, caring for children; if you are making a positive contribution in this world, you probably are a champion. Think about a single divorced mother who has to go back to work to support her family. There are hours dedicated to work, to family, to sleep. Where two parents were supposed to provide a nurturing environment, now there is one. What better definition of a champion can we find?
But even two parents with children are heroes in my book. In fact, there are so many discouraging factors in the world today that anyone; mother, father, sister, brother, single, married, divorced, any race, creed, anywhere in the wide world; anyone who survives from day to day without major depression is a hero. There are so many reasons to lose faith, to be discouraged, to give up hope. But somehow, most people find a way to get out of bed in the morning and face another day. Abundance may be the reason. There is so much to celebrate, if we can just past all the garbage.
This poem is called Champion. It may describe you.
The average runner runs
until the breath in him is gone,
But the champion has the iron will
that makes him carry on.
For the rest the average runner begs
when limp his muscles grow,
But the champion runs on leaden legs,
his courage makes him go.
The average man's complacent
when he's done his best to score,
But the champion does his best,
and then he does a little more.
We weren’t given this world. We have created it every day we have been alive, and every person makes the world. One less, and it’s not the world we know. What can we do to champion a better tomorrow?
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Monday Dec 28, 2009
Monday Dec 28, 2009
Hans Christian Andersen's
"Little Match Girl"
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet.
When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold.
She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing! The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought.
From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.
In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.
Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it.
She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top.
The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.
She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums.
And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind.
She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house. Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her.
The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire. "Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.
She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the luster there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.
"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall.
She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year.
Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt.
"She wanted to warm herself," people said.
No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.
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Monday Dec 28, 2009
Monday Dec 28, 2009
Time Travel
I time travel all the time. So do you. Most of us set an alarm to get us up in the morning. Then the next morning, the alarm goes off because you have traveled to the future to remind yourself to get up.
My memory is getting so bad I need to leave myself notes. I’ll put a note on the seat of my car in the morning at work to remind me to do something after work. Many of you use planners to remind us what to do in the future.
What if we read a note from ourselves 50 years from now that said, “Don’t forget to be happy today.”?
I like reminders, except when I don’t want them. Like a reminder to get a colonoscopy, which I know I need but don’t want to be reminded about. I don’t like it when the dentist reminds me to come and get my teeth cleaned. I don’t want to be reminded I need to get my car inspected and registered, but that is a nice reminder.
When I travel in time, most days now it is back in time. I think I am much younger than I really am, and working with young people most of the time doesn’t help. The time travel machine called a mirror is one I really hate. When I walk past it I curse it for the wrinkles it adds to what I still consider my youthful face. But I wouldn’t trade the experiences I have gained for renewed youth.
Reminders can come in many forms. We learn to like our birthdays less and less as we get older, but they really shouldn’t cause us to mourn. We should be thinking about how lucky we are to make it to another landmark. I have some friends who didn’t.
I’ll be sharing another story about Dane Bromley in a minute, but I remember the day I was sitting in my drama class. I was called on the intercom to the office, and my mom was on the phone. She told me Dane had been hit by a truck and killed.
He was walking down the street and a truck hit him. I don’t know if the truck was too far off the road, or if Dane was walking too close to the road. All I know is he was dead, and I had a sickening, sinking feeling and broke out in tears. I hadn’t seen him in years, but we were as close as two guys with the same name could be. I composed myself and went back to class with red eyes.
The next week was a blur, as I went to the church, the funeral, acted as a pallbearer, and only remember a little about the whole thing. I only have a few things left to remind me about the great times we had together, but this memory is like travelling back to junior high.
Since we were both named Dane, not a really common name, we immediately struck up a great friendship. We must have terrorized the halls, because one day the vice-principal came up to both of us as we were sitting in the hall on the floor. He asked us why we had been tormenting our student teachers, who up until that point we both thought really liked us. That just shows how clueless we were, and probably is a good indication of what trouble-makers we were. We had caused her to cry, and we thought she really liked us.
But that’s the way guys are in junior high. We even used to slug girls we liked. What was that about? But time travel also works both ways. I try not to think about how my grandfather always carried a handkerchief and used to blow his nose pretty often. I now carry a handkerchief, and yes, I do blow my nose more often than I like. Leon Trotsky said it this way, “Old age is one of the most unexpected things to happen to a man.” I guess that includes women, too. I’m also guessing Leon Trotsky said this in the last part of his life, not the first.
The point of all the rambling is that we are on a journey where we get one day at a time, and most of us take it for granted. As Henry David Thoreau said, we should not get to the end of our life and discover we had never lived.
Let us live so when our daily reminder to get up in the morning goes off, whether it’s an alarm, the sun or something else, we acknowledge the fact. Let’s live, I mean really live, and recognize today is the only day we have been given. As Horace said, “Seize the day”.
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