With Sadness

Late last night, or early this morning, my wife and I received a phone call informing us that our son, Wil, was shot and killed while standing at a bus stop waiting for the bus to take him home.  Senseless. No rhyme. No reason. Another individual walks up and shoots our son.

Police think it was a case of mistaken identity. The shooter fled on foot. Police eventually found the shooter's car. They are still investigating.

Numb. Not really comprehending it. Certainly can't find any meaning in it. None.

It's a call no parent should ever receive.  Ever.

Wil was 28 years old. Married less than two years. This last week, he just received good news on a new full time job. Now gone. Gone.

I will close at this point with the caution that you cannot, must not take life for granted.  Not ever. Hug those who are near and dear. Never let a day or minute go by without telling those close to you that you love them, that they mean something to you.

Hug and love your kids, your wife or husband.

Above all, Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Joe, Kim, Hannah and Emily.  And Wil and his young wife, Maria.

Light Behind The Clouds

When I lived in Southern California, the blue sky was never really blue.  As one looked up, there seemed to be an orange-colored tint to the sky.  It was because the pollution, the smog layer, that dulled the brilliance of the blue.  I remember a quip by Fritz Coleman, a weatherman on one of the local stations that like other parts of the United States, Southern California had air that could be chewed.  What set Southern California apart from the rest was that it had a nice mesquite flavor to it.

 

When Kim and the kids and I would fly home to Wisconsin, the plane would take off and rise above that smog layer and when we looked down, we could see the orange layer.  But above and behind that orange layer, was a brilliant blue sky. 

 

The same happened when the plane took off and rose above a particularly heavy cloud layer.  Gray and gloomy one minute, but sunny the next.  Light Behind The Clouds.

 

We’ve run into a patch of stormy weather here lately.  The day would begin sunny, perhaps with a few clouds, but by late afternoon or evening, the sky would become overcast, and boast a dark bruised sky, that would eventually burst with a sudden, sometimes pounding downpour.

 

Sort of like life.

 

Happy one minute.  Everything going your way.  Things falling into place nicely.  And then in the next moment, and sometimes without warning . . .

 

It is human nature to get pulled in and to succumb to the dark and the gloomy, the foreboding and formidable.  We’ve all been there.  Perhaps there are those reading this who are still there.

 

But I might remind you, perhaps not so eloquently, that there is always Light Behind The Clouds.  Always.

 

Just as when a plane takes off, it rises above the smog layer and one can see the brilliance of the blue.  Just as when a plane takes off, it rises above the clouds and one can see the sun, the Light Behind The Clouds.

 

And, storms don’t last.  They run their course.  The clouds burst, rain pours forth, and then there is sun.

 

During those dark days when all seems gloomy and ugly, when all seems painful and lost, when there doesn’t seem to be any direction or help forthcoming, remember . . .

 

There is always Light Behind The Clouds.  Always.  Always.  And until then, let the rain refresh you.  Or as Fritz might say, enjoy the mesquite flavor.  Smile.  Something to think about . . .

 

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Back Through The Rearview

I remember teaching my daughter, Hannah, how to back up when she was first learning to drive.  At first she wanted to use the rearview mirror, but she soon found out she had trouble steering just like we all did once upon a time.  Looking backward, it was tougher than I first thought it might be.  I had to remind her that she needed to look back over her shoulder so she could see more of the area behind her.  A bigger, better, and clearer, more unobstructed view of what was there lurking behind the car.

And now there are some cars with the camera that shows the area behind the vehicle.  One of our cars has one, and to be honest, I’m so used to turning around and looking, I forget that it’s even there.  Old-fashioned, I guess.

Interesting concept though: looking backward.

The thing is . . .

Looking Back Through The Rearview is really only good for one thing: moving backwards.  Looking Back Through The Rearview is really only good for one thing: going in reverse.  And while going backward or going in reverse will get you moving, and while going backwards or going in reverse is sometimes necessary, it’s often uncomfortable and one can’t sit like that for very long.

Got me thinking . . .

It’s nice to reminisce every so often.  It’s nice to go back and “remember when” once in a while, but often we end up telling and retelling the same stories over and over again.  We tell ourselves the same things over and over again.  We end up dwelling on our foibles, our faults, our shortcomings, and we kind of fall in and remain in a rut of old stories and old memories, sometimes funny, sometimes bitter sweet, and sometimes downright painful.

And just like driving and looking Back Through The Rearview, we don’t really go anywhere important, anywhere really meaningful.  Nowhere at all, really.

I do know it is important to take a look back every now and then because by doing so, we learn from where we’ve come.  By looking back, we see just how far we’ve gone.

But by keeping our eyes on the sights already behind us, we don’t progress.  We review the same road, the same traveled territory, and I believe it can, and often times will, stunt our growth.

Just as when we drive our vehicle down the road, it might be best to glance every so often Back Through The Rearview to check on our travels, to check on our progress.  But just to check.  Only just to check.  Because if we keep our eyes fixed on where we’ve been rather than where we’re going there are accidents- to ourselves and to others.

Life is meant to be lived in the forward rather than in the backward.  Life is meant to be lived moving forward, and seeing where one is headed, and only every so often, looking backward to see where one has been.

Life is more exciting, more interesting looking ahead, looking forward, rather than looking behind.  We need to allow the past to remain there.  Perhaps remember it every so often.  Obviously to learn from it.  But we cannot grow and become by dwelling in the past, by remaining in the past.  Learn from it and then move on.  Always, move on.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

The Pursuit Of Perfection

At least once a month, Kim or one of the girls pulls out the DVD of Remember The Titans and we watch it together as a family.  The most recent viewing was two nights ago.  Kim made popcorn and we sat in our family room and watched it.  We’ve watched the movie so many times, we can recite the dialogue along with the characters.  At various parts in the movie, we laugh.  We get annoyed, if not downright angry.  We cheer.  We tense up even though we know the outcome.  We tear up.  And in the end, we smile.

 

There is a scene when Coach Boone, played by Denzel Washington, tells his team that they are to Pursue Perfection.  No fumbles.  No missed blocks.  No missed tackles.  Perfection.

 

Quite the notion, Perfection.

 

I’ve coached high school and college basketball.  I’ve watched my son and daughters play basketball, soccer and softball.  Now it’s exclusively soccer, though both Emily and Hannah play Powder Puff football.

 

When I coached, I told my teams, my players, that basketball was a game of mistakes: the team that makes the least amount of mistakes is the team that usually wins.

 

It doesn’t matter what the sport is.  A wrong pitch.  An ill-timed error.  A missed free throw.  An interception.  Blown coverage.  It doesn’t matter what the sport is. 

 

We see it in high school games.  We see it in college games.  We witness it in the pros.  It’s a game of mistakes.  Any game, every game, is a game of mistakes.

 

But knowing that shouldn’t prevent a team from The Pursuit Of Perfection. As Boone says in the movie, if we aim at Perfection, we might achieve excellence.

 

And that is the way of life, isn’t it?

 

We Pursue Perfection.  And if we do, perhaps we can achieve excellence.  And for those of us who really, really struggle, if we aim at Perfection, perhaps we might hit pretty good.  Or on a bad day, we might hit okay.

 

But there is a risk in the Pursuit Of Perfection.

 

Sometimes in our effort, we might trample on others to be Perfect.  In our effort, we might ignore the beauty that surrounds us, the love that embraces us, the help that is offered to us. 

 

In our Pursuit Of Perfection, we run the risk of feeling down and defeated if we achieve less than Perfection.  We run the risk of judging ourselves too harshly, not recognizing that we are, after all, human, and prone to making mistakes.  That seldom, if ever, was there ever someone who was Perfect.  In fact, I can only think of one individual who was Perfect, and He lost his temper with the money changers in the temple.  In fact, the one individual who was Perfect was eventually whipped and crucified.

 

So . . .

 

Perhaps we can Pursue Perfection, but still enjoy the life we live.  Perhaps we can Pursue Perfection, but still see the beauty around us, feel the love that embraces us, and every now and then, accept the help that is offered to us.

 

And perhaps, in our Pursuit Of Perfection, we can help others along the way as they, too, Pursue Perfection.  And we can help each other recognize that we are all, each of us, only too human, only imperfect creatures, and in that realization, we can smile and nod and recognize that we, each of us, are really pretty good in spite of our lack of Perfection.  That it’s okay to be pretty good.  Even okay to be, okay.  Something To Think About . . .

 

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Power Of We, Importance Of I

For a long time, I have believed the notion and concept of “it takes a village.”  While Hilary Clinton’s book formalized this for me, I’ve grown up with the idea, this belief probably because of the family I grew up in, the ideals and ideas instilled in us by my mom and dad, by my brothers and sisters, by the folks who entered and stayed in my life these sixty years.  I’ve seen it again and again in my own life and I’ve seen it in the lives of others.

For example and most recently, the home of one of our seniors burnt to the ground earlier this week.  There is little, if anything, left.  Maybe a few clothing items.  Maybe one or two other items, but by and large, the house and all that was in it is gone.  It happened in the middle of the night and thankfully, there wasn’t any harm to the family.

Now, our seniors graduate one week from tomorrow.  This young man will walk across the stage and receive his diploma.  This is a moment of celebration, but I have to believe, for this young man and his family, even if they try, the celebratory mood literally went up in smoke and flame.

But . . .

A teacher came to me concerned about this young man.  We talked, and I walked her over to the guidance office where we met with the young man’s counselor and our social worker.  A plan was developed and an email . . . an SOS . . . was sent out to the staff asking for gift cards for the young man.  I, and they, and my staff realize that we can’t replace everything.  No way.  I mean, seventeen or eighteen years of “stuff” . . . how would it be possible to replace everything?

But . . .

More than any other school I’ve been in, this school community is family.  It was family before I arrived and it will be family long after I’m gone.  It’s in our school culture.  It’s in the way we do business.  We might not necessarily agree with each other all the time, but what family does?  In the end, we come together because we’re family.  It’s our way.

So . . .

It is our hope that we can lessen the load.  Perhaps, help this young man lift a bit of the weight off his shoulders.  That is our hope.

And that is the Power Of We.

Things get done when We are involved.  Ideas take off and become airborne.  Projects and plans take root and grow.

But . . .

It took that one teacher who came to me and asked, “Can we help?  Can we do something?”

That is the Importance Of I.

We can’t sit around and wait for someone else to step up.  We can’t wait for someone else to step forward. That brief moment might pass and then nothing happens.  How tragic is that? 

For something to get done, for anything to be accomplished, it takes someone willing to step up, to step forward.  Because, I believe, it is only then that We becomes powerful, a force.  I don’t believe we can have one without the other.  There is Power in We, but We doesn’t happen without I.  There is something Important about I.  But there is something even magical about the Power Of We and the Importance Of I . . . together.  Something to think about . . .

A Really Good Man

By all accounts in the Bible . . . and even within various interpretations of the story, Zacharias was considered to be a kind of scoundrel.  He was a tax collector and back then, tax collectors had a reputation of being unfair, of sort of picking and choosing who he would collect from, and even how much he might collect from them.  I’m not sure if, back then, they kept records or if they did, what kind of records, or even how accurate the records were.

Zacharias was a little guy.  I kind of picture him about my height, probably shorter.  I say that because as the story goes, he had to climb a tree in order to see what all the fuss was about.  There was a crowd around this Preacher, this Prophet, and Zacharias couldn’t see.  As the Prophet came closer, He looked up and saw Zacharias and said, “Zacharias, come down from that tree.  I will be staying at your house tonight.”

Wow!  Talk about controversy.  I imagine the crowd murmuring, complaining, and at the least, questioning as to why this Prophet, this Holy Man, might want to be near this scoundrel, this heathen, this thug.

So in his own defense, Zacharias defends himself, explaining to everyone who would listen- and I imagine not to many were interested in listening to him- what sorts of things he might have done right, what he tried to do, owning up to mistakes he might have made in the past, but indicating a willingness to atone for them.  A willingness to do better, to make things right.

But what was remarkable, at least to me, was that this Holy Man, this Prophet, had decided to spend a night with him before Zacharias defended himself, before he even uttered a word.  It seems that this Holy Man, this Prophet, knew something that the crowd didn’t know.  This Holy Man, this Prophet, knew something that Zacharias didn’t even know about himself.

That deep down, at his core, Zacharias was A Really Good Man.

Springsteen has a lyric in his song, Human Touch that goes like this: “. . . Yeah, I know I ain't nobody's bargain; But, hell, a little touch up; And a little paint . . .”

One of my favorite songs and one of my favorite lines.  “Yeah, I know I ain’t nobody’s bargain; but, hell, a little touch up; And a little paint . . .”

Kind of describes each of us, doesn’t it?

Zacharias.  You.  Me.  Certainly, me.  Absolutely, me.

But give us a chance, an opportunity . . . give us someone who might look beyond what we’ve might have done to see what we might do . . .

And, there’s something endearing about this short scoundrel who had to climb a tree in order to see.  Seems to me there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.  Having to rise above a crowd.  Having Someone look up in order to see him.  Not down, mind you, but up.  And, for Zacharias to see clearly, to see what the fuss was all about, he had to rise above the crowd.  He had to lift himself up in order to see.

So . . .

Seems to me that we have two Really Good Men in this story. 

On one hand, a Prophet, a Holy Man, who was able to look beyond the crowd, who was able to look beyond the reputation, the clothes, the present day actions, to see a Good Man’s heart, A Good Man’s soul.  To understand that just because someone trashes your reputation, that just because two or three might disagree and spread gossip and innuendo, it just might not be so.  That there can be A Really Good Man right in front of you, standing there in plain sight.  That perhaps, there can be A Really Good Man up in a tree where you and he and she can see each other clearly and notice and understand and believe what others cannot see or notice or understand or believe.  Yes, Like Zacharias, you and I . . . we, each of us . . . are A Really Good Man.  A Really Good Man.  We just might need “a touch up and, hell, a little paint.”  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Tied Down And Chained

When I was a little kid, I remember a story I read about Sampson.  Because he was so strong, his enemies Chained him to keep him in control.  As the story went, at least that I can recall, he pulled the chains from the brick wall and brought down the house, so to speak, on his enemies.

 

Remember the Incredible Hulk?  You know, the guy who was fairly meek and mild that when angry, turned into a green monster?  Somewhere along the line, at least in one of the episodes of the TV show I watched growing up, scientists tried to control him with sedatives.  Worked a little, but eventually, the sedatives wore off and the green guy was back to himself, or at least a version of himself.

 

When I was in college, my friends decided to bind my hands and feet behind my back as a practical joke.  I protested, begged, pleaded for them not to.  They didn’t listen to me.  Instead, after they were done, they put me on a bed and left the room, shutting the door behind them. I was alone.  I was by myself.  And I was terrified. 

 

I can’t tell you how panicked I was.  Anxious.  Nervous.  Angry.  Helpless.  Truly, absolutely helpless.  I know my heart raced.  I became claustrophobic, like the walls were truly closing in.  I had the terrifying feeling that I might die.  When my friends finally relented and untied me, one of them remarked how white I looked.  Really?  He was surprised at how white I looked?  Master Detective, he was not!

 

I have to tell you it was quite a while before I forgave them.  I mean, how could they possibly think that was a joke?  How could they possibly think doing something like that was funny?  What if I had begun choking?  I was already having trouble breathing, so what if, while they were out of the room laughing or whatever they were doing, something happened to me to the point it was irreversible?  I was helpless.  I had no control.  None.  What the heck were they thinking?

 

That unfortunate and ugly memory got me thinking . . .

 

How many times do we feel Tied Down And Chained?  In the course of a year?  A month?  A week?  A day?  Sometimes from our own doing or sometimes from others doing to us?

 

Sometimes, we do it to ourselves by our words, our actions, our interactions with others, our decisions especially without considering the consequences of our words, our actions, or the decisions we make.  Sometimes it is the position we might find ourselves because of the actions or words or decisions of others.  Of course, it isn’t our own doing that places us in these predicaments, and that fact might cause us to have that helpless feeling, that feeling of hopelessness. We might feel hurt, anger, despair.

 

I’m not sure which is worse, really: our own doing or someone else’s doing.  Both are awful places to be, especially if what is felt is what I felt when I was tied up and left alone.

 

I guess in those cases where we might feel Tied Down And Chained, we might actually need to depend upon others for help.  Not necessarily easy to do, especially if our view of ourselves is one of self-sufficiency.  Not easy to accept if we have the kind of personality and belief in ourselves that we can go it alone, perhaps that we somehow should go it alone.  That no matter what, we can do it ourselves.  That in spite of it all, we can take care of ourselves. 

 

No, not necessarily easy to do at all.

 

But it’s never wrong to seek help from someone if and when it is needed.  It’s never wrong to admit that we cannot go it alone, that we need support, that we need someone else’s shoulder to lean on, someone else’s hand to lift us up.  I think it’s rather idiotic to think we can get ourselves out of the hole that we dug for ourselves or out of the hole that someone else dug for us.  Sometimes the most courageous thing, the bravest thing, the smartest thing we can do is ask for help, for advice, for someone to listen.  Something to think about . . .

 

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!