I will never forget the day that my boss, Sue, called me into her office to tell me about a presentation she had scheduled with one of the organizations that were in the credit union's field of membership. I was working for Central Florida Educators Federal Credit Union in Orlando as the marketing assistant. The credit union had 250+ public and private schools and around 750 companies.
It was our job to go out to these companies and meet with staff usually during employee benefit days. So, we spent much of our time in the road telling people about the benefits of credit union membership and opening accounts.
On this particular day, we didn't have a whole lot of presentations on the calendar so when a group called wanting us to come out and give a presentation, she was very excited. "Kerri, I just got off the phone with Cypress Cove and they want a presentation," she explained. When I began to giggle, she asked, "What's so funny?" I replied as I tried to suppress my laugh, "Well, you do know what Cypress Cove is, right?" "No, why?" "Well, for one it's a nudist colony," I said through belly laughs. "No, it isn't!" "Um, yes, it is! I know because I drive by it everyday." "No, it's not. You have to be mistaken," she said. So, I got up and pulled their file to show her the brochure that proudly declared that it was a member of the National Sunbather's Association.
The brochure also showed RV lots, cabins, permanent houses, a lake, tennis and basketball courts and paddle boats. When Sue got a look at the brochure, her face dropped. Now, I couldn't just let this go so I asked, "Do they require us to do the presentation in the nude?" She snapped, "That's not funny!" To keep it going I said, "Well, you won't have any trouble picturing your audience naked!" I don't think I have ever laughed so hard in my life. "Do they wear tennis shoes to play tennis?" More laughs followed.
Sue tried to make me call to cancel. This was the one time I refused to do something my boss asked me to do. I giggled the whole time she was on the phone with the organization's representative making the excuse that we couldn't make their date.
I don't know who originally signed up the group. I still wonder if they visited the place to get the paperwork completed. Everyday, I drove by Cypress Cove when I lived in Kissimmee. All I ever saw enter or exit were really old people and it made me laugh about how that presentation would have gone if I hadn't told Sue about it being a nudist colony. Some days, I wish I hadn't told her just to see her face!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
Six Days In A Monastery That Changed My Life
Oh, don't jump to conclusions - I was never a nun, never wanted to be a nun and wasn't at St. Benedict's Monastery in Madison, WI in November of 1994 to become a nun! I traveled from Orlando, Florida to wintery Madison to attend a training. But, before I go any further about my stay at St. Benie's, as it is lovingly referred to, let me give you some background.
In 1986, I began working for Missouri Electric Cooperatives Credit Union in Jefferson City, Missouri. My title was office assistant that meant that I posted deposits, made withdrawals, completed loan paperwork and wrote the quarterly newsletter. I worked for an amazing woman, Martha, who made sure I understood what credit unions were all about. She taught me about one member, one vote, about the volunteer board of directors and committee members. The one thing that she shared with me that was truer than anything she ever said was, "Kerri, once you work for a credit union, you'll never work for any other type of organization." I don't know if she realized that she set my future for the next 26 years.
So, each time we moved when my husband was transferred, I got a job in a credit union. It wasn't until I got my first job in marketing at Central Florida Educators' Federal Credit Union as the marketing assistant, that my career truly began. My boss, Sue, and I would visit many of the 250+ schools in four counties to speak to school personnel about the benefits of credit union membership. Sharing credit unions with others became the highlight of my job and I began getting involved in the local chapter of credit unions. It was at these meetings that I met a woman that would be pick up the torch from Martha to open my eyes to the real impact of credit unions in the United States and around the world.
Her name is Lois and I saw a presentation she gave on teaching youth about money management and credit unions through classroom presentations. I was fascinated by the idea of helping children learn something I never learned in school or at home. I had made all the mistakes young adults made and had learned through trial and error. After the presentation, I introduced myself to Lois and a lifelong friend was made.
Over the next year, Lois and I traveled the state of Florida speaking to most of the credit union chapters. Many times, we couldn't take time off from our full-time jobs so we would jump in the car after work and drive a couple of hours to do our presentation and drive home that night. It was amazing that how many times I didn't get home till the wee hours of the morning only to get up early to be ready for work the next day.
On one of these trips, Lois commanded me (I learned over the years, not many people can tell Lois "no" and I am one of those people) to attend this training called, Credit Union Development Education or CUDE. "What kind of training is it?" I asked. "You'll love it," she said. That was the extent of her description of the training. So, I applied for a scholarship for the training from our state league and won it. My employer paid for my airfare and I covered all other expenses.
As I waited to leave, people would ask me about the training I was going to and I would say, "It's in Madison, WI and its held in a monastery in November." I every time I would get this look like "Are you crazy?" One friend told me that since I grew up a Baptist that the Catholics have a special ceremony to cleanse Baptists in particular. To say the least, I was a little freaked out!
I had to arrive a day early because of the flight schedule. As the cabbie pulled up front to the yellow/tan stucco building, I thought to myself, "it doesn't look too intimidating." Boy, was I wrong. I walked in and there was a elderly lady sitting at the reception desk and without too many words, she directed me to my "room." To say it was stark, was an understatement. It was a twin bed, chest and a desk. The restrooms were down the hall and there were no locks on the doors.
As I unpacked my suitcase that was bigger than the bed, I looked up at the Crucifix that hung just above the bed and wondered what the heck I had got my self into. Four weeks before training, I began receiving packets of articles to read before I arrived. They covered all kinds of things that didn't seem to be inter-related.
After I unpacked, I decided to explore my home for the next six days. I walked down the hall and I heard in a Southern drawl that reminded me of my own family in Southern Alabama, "Hey, are you here for DE training?" Tammy was from Mississippi and a second generation credit union employee. That night, we found a TV in a small room and decked out in our PJs, we watch something while we guessed what we had gotten ourselves into. She had a bit more information about the training because her friends had shared a bit more than Lois had but it was still pretty cryptic.
The first day of training started at 8 a.m. and ended well after 9 p.m. that was followed by games in the basement of St. Benie's. We played Pit and cards while we drank. During the days, we explored the development issues, learned to give presentations (they even video taped us and critiqued our presentation) and made lifelong friendships.
I have never worked so hard and learned so much in such a short span of time as I did those six days in 1994 and it was the most rewarding thing I have ever accomplished. Those days, opened my eyes to world in a way that I had never even imagined. I learned why credit unions can be the vehicle to help people improve their quality of life.
When I graduated, I became a part of a group of people who are making a difference in the lives of people here and around the world through credit unions. Some have gone on to run credit unions, some to lead state leagues and others that have served as a presidential appointee to the federal agency that oversees credit unions. Some have went on to offer technical assistance to countries around the world and some have created innovate products and services to meet member needs'.
I have had the opportunity to travel to six countries and all but five states to work with credit unions and state organizations. The Credit Union Development Education program set me on a path that I am so proud to look back on that is filled with at projects I was able to collaborate on; however, nothing compares to the friendships I made along the way.
Last week, credit unions lost one of its most ardent supporters, Tom. I met him about 10 years ago and he was a person that no one ever forgot. He was teddy bear of a man that served his country to retirement then dedicated his free time to volunteering on his credit union's board and the CUDE program.
I learned from CUDE that people matter - all people. It opened my eyes to the world and gave me the opportunity to see some of it for myself. I learned that the greatest asset that any country has is it's people. We all breathe, eat, love and have the desire to improve our lot in life for the benefit of the next generation; however not everyone have the tools they need to achieve the simple things in life.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Dad's Living Legacy
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| William Thaddeus - 1977 |
I lost my dad, William, 35 years ago (almost to the day). He was larger than life in my world. I remember thinking he was the most handsome guy I had ever seen. He had beautiful blue eyes that I see in my son. In fact, all of my dad's brothers have stunningly beautiful eyes, too.
He was, by all accounts, the life of the party. He was a salesman and could, honestly, sell ice to an eskimo. He sold milk, bread and vacuum cleaners. I proudly keep his national 3rd Best Salesman award from Kirby. He won a pony, rings, trips, boats and I am sure a variety of other things because he was competitive. He would bet on anything! His brother shared that when he was selling bread, you could catch him at a convenience store "pulling bottles." Back then folks turned in glass bottles for deposit money. These salesmen would bet on who could "pull the bottle" from the most far-flung city stamped on the bottom. Just proof that you can, indeed, bet on anything.
My mom and dad divorced when I was young so when it was time for his visit, I would sit watching out the window for him to arrive in his Ford hotrod. He always owned the biggest engine Ford made at the time. It's rumored that he held some backroad speed records in lower Alabama. I definitely inherited the love of speed from him!
When he entered a room, he filled it. People were drawn to him because he was always laughing and joking with everyone. I don't know if there were ever strangers in his world. I watched with amazement as he walked into a McDonald's restaurant and fell onto the counter exclaiming, "I'm having a Mac Attack!" That was their very successful ad campaign at the time. All of kids just rolled with laughter as did the folks there to witness it.
I will never forget sitting on his lap in the driver's seat of his 1974 Lincoln Continental with a 460 ci engine "driving" while we cruised the Florida Turnpike at 70 mph. I remember saying, "Dad there's a car up there," I said. "Well, get into the other lane ... let's pass it," he said. As a joke, he started snoring and I thought he had fallen asleep while I was "driving." I screamed and he laughed so hard.
He always enjoyed the things that mom was cautious about and I treasure them. He had a dirt go cart track in his yard one place he lived. We about wore that go cart out while we were there going as fast as we could and sliding around the corners. Firecrackers and staying up late marked our time with him. Laughter was something all of kids were so blessed to have with both our dad and mom.
While in high school, I spent a good deal of time working on cars and racing them (always illegally on some back road). I was a Mopar head and I know that would have made him very upset. I had a 1973 Dodge Dart with a 360 ci that had the low-end torque that would take just about any stock in that class in 1/8 mile and some in a quarter mile.
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| 1969 Hemi SuperBird |
One weekend, some friends headed to Port St. Joe, FL to do some racing when we stopped by a man's house that had a 1969 Hemi SuperBird. His son had been killed in Vietnam in 1970 and the car had been kept in a garage, driven once a week since. This man had grown up in St. Joe and had been involved in racing all those years. We began talking and I don't know how it came up but I told him my dad lived in St. Joe in the 60s, was the bread man and he always had the fastest Ford he could afford.
"Was his name Thad?" the man asked. "Well, yes, Grimes, was his last name," I said. The man proceeded to tell me about what he remembered about my dad. He said he was always good for a laugh and everyone around there knew him. Also, said he won quite a few of those races and pocketed some big purses. "It's a good thing he didn't live here very long cause we would've all been broke!" he shared.
What's the chances of me finding someone that knew my dad, in such a way, 20+ years after the fact? I saw that as God's way of giving me what I needed at the time. You see, just that week before I had split with someone that I thought was my soulmate. I was struggling with what I wanted to do with my life and missing the one thing I didn't have in my life, my dad.
Today, I look back and cherish these crazy times with my dad and I look at the legacy he left in my brother, my sister (who is just like him) and our children - five boys that carry his genes into the next generation. Would he be proud of what he helped to create? I think he would because each of them are amazing human beings that love to laugh and are the life of the party. They make an impression on everyone they meet and bring so much joy to this world.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Caution: It's More Than What You Say
Parenting is one of the most important "jobs" in the world. Those little wrinkled humans do not come with a manual. You can do an internet search; however you will find your particular bundle of joy is, many times, not the average kid (who likes average anyway?). In fact, there is so much in society that gives parents much angst because their child isn't walking at the same time his friend is or talking like a five year old at two.
But, there is one aspect of child-rearing that is absolutely true for all children. They observe and learn from their surroundings - it's called, "mirroring." In fact, humans and other primates are hardwired to it. When your sweet bundle of joy gets to be three years old and he's standing there frustrated trying to put a square box in a round hole and says that "bad word," you can bet that it was a behavior he saw from someone he values. (I am using he only because that is the gender I raised and of course, my sweet granddaughter will never exhibit this kind of behavior! LOL)
The only experience we have in child-rearing, typically, is how we were raised ourselves. If you were fortunate to be born to parents that "mirrored" Mother Teresa, then we may have learned to restrain anger or how to deal with it positive ways. But the truth is, that parents are human and flawed. Some, like myself, pretty broken. It's really staying in the game that earns the real points from your kids point of view.
As I watch the on-going coverage of the Sandusky child abuse trial, I am struck by a lot of feelings because I was one of those kids that was physically and emotionally abused by a in-law. I have had to deal with my share of guilt over not letting anyone know until I was grown, married and had a child of my own. Why? Because I feel confident that this individual subjected other children to the same treatment I endured over the years and I did nothing to help protect them.
My mom did everything right as far as protecting us from as much of the world's evilness as possible but it happened to me. She was involved and present in everything we participated in ... baseball, bowling and school. She didn't let us go off with people she didn't know. We hardly ever spent the night at friends houses and she made it a point to know BOTH parents of kids we could spend time at their homes. Our's was the sanctuary for the neighborhood kids. We always had sleepovers and friends coming and going. My mom was the mom in the hood the kids like to be around. She was funny, engaging and always found things to entertain us.
Growing up, there was one thing I knew (even as a teenager), that my mom (and family) loved me unconditionally. I knew that if someone hurt me that my mom would have done anything to protect me. When I say anything, I mean anything. That's good, right?
I was 11 years old when the abuse began and it was small steps but within a year, it had become really scary and ugly. Hearing these young adults during this trial talk about how they felt no one would have believed them over this man with such standing in their community, makes me so sad because I knew my mom would have believed me.
This is where it was different in my case and for many children in the world. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if my mom and my family found out about what was happening to me that they would have killed him. She was not going to let someone hurt one of her children. It happened even my involved and committed parent.
In my child's mind, I weighed my options. Try to reduce the exposure to this animal and protect myself and my little sister from as much of the abuse as possible or tell my mom and lose her to the justice system because I truly believed she would have killed him. I didn't think it was worth my family losing my mom over this criminal's actions.
My teenage years were tough because of all that goes with abuse both physically and emotionally but my mom was there for me and God answered all my prayers by bringing people into my life that helped me heal. I learned that even in the worst of it, I was never alone and that for as bad as it was, it could have been much worse.
Those years after this person was no longer in our lives until my son was born, I suppressed the memories and they played out in a variety of ways. I did a great deal of self examination and praying to overcome most of it but it wasn't until I was able to share it with my family that healing really began. I learned how to forgive, not for him, but for me because as long as I held onto the anger, he still controlled me and had influence over my happiness.
My parenting lesson from my own childhood was to never say or allude to my child that if someone did anything to them that I would cause harm to the violator but instead that he could tell me anything. I would be there for him and help him through anything and everything.
Parenting is hard and no ever does it perfectly but remembering that your children are paying attention and mirroring your actions, words and attitude is a pretty powerful thing. When you realize that you have the ability to be a positive influence their lives ... own it and rejoice in it. It is the the most rewarding thing you will ever do for your child and the world.
But, there is one aspect of child-rearing that is absolutely true for all children. They observe and learn from their surroundings - it's called, "mirroring." In fact, humans and other primates are hardwired to it. When your sweet bundle of joy gets to be three years old and he's standing there frustrated trying to put a square box in a round hole and says that "bad word," you can bet that it was a behavior he saw from someone he values. (I am using he only because that is the gender I raised and of course, my sweet granddaughter will never exhibit this kind of behavior! LOL)
The only experience we have in child-rearing, typically, is how we were raised ourselves. If you were fortunate to be born to parents that "mirrored" Mother Teresa, then we may have learned to restrain anger or how to deal with it positive ways. But the truth is, that parents are human and flawed. Some, like myself, pretty broken. It's really staying in the game that earns the real points from your kids point of view.
As I watch the on-going coverage of the Sandusky child abuse trial, I am struck by a lot of feelings because I was one of those kids that was physically and emotionally abused by a in-law. I have had to deal with my share of guilt over not letting anyone know until I was grown, married and had a child of my own. Why? Because I feel confident that this individual subjected other children to the same treatment I endured over the years and I did nothing to help protect them.
My mom did everything right as far as protecting us from as much of the world's evilness as possible but it happened to me. She was involved and present in everything we participated in ... baseball, bowling and school. She didn't let us go off with people she didn't know. We hardly ever spent the night at friends houses and she made it a point to know BOTH parents of kids we could spend time at their homes. Our's was the sanctuary for the neighborhood kids. We always had sleepovers and friends coming and going. My mom was the mom in the hood the kids like to be around. She was funny, engaging and always found things to entertain us.
Growing up, there was one thing I knew (even as a teenager), that my mom (and family) loved me unconditionally. I knew that if someone hurt me that my mom would have done anything to protect me. When I say anything, I mean anything. That's good, right?
I was 11 years old when the abuse began and it was small steps but within a year, it had become really scary and ugly. Hearing these young adults during this trial talk about how they felt no one would have believed them over this man with such standing in their community, makes me so sad because I knew my mom would have believed me.
This is where it was different in my case and for many children in the world. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if my mom and my family found out about what was happening to me that they would have killed him. She was not going to let someone hurt one of her children. It happened even my involved and committed parent.
In my child's mind, I weighed my options. Try to reduce the exposure to this animal and protect myself and my little sister from as much of the abuse as possible or tell my mom and lose her to the justice system because I truly believed she would have killed him. I didn't think it was worth my family losing my mom over this criminal's actions.
My teenage years were tough because of all that goes with abuse both physically and emotionally but my mom was there for me and God answered all my prayers by bringing people into my life that helped me heal. I learned that even in the worst of it, I was never alone and that for as bad as it was, it could have been much worse.
Those years after this person was no longer in our lives until my son was born, I suppressed the memories and they played out in a variety of ways. I did a great deal of self examination and praying to overcome most of it but it wasn't until I was able to share it with my family that healing really began. I learned how to forgive, not for him, but for me because as long as I held onto the anger, he still controlled me and had influence over my happiness.
My parenting lesson from my own childhood was to never say or allude to my child that if someone did anything to them that I would cause harm to the violator but instead that he could tell me anything. I would be there for him and help him through anything and everything.
Parenting is hard and no ever does it perfectly but remembering that your children are paying attention and mirroring your actions, words and attitude is a pretty powerful thing. When you realize that you have the ability to be a positive influence their lives ... own it and rejoice in it. It is the the most rewarding thing you will ever do for your child and the world.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Parenting Lingo Lesson
If you read my previous parenting post, you know that one of my favorite memories of raising my son was the time we got to spend riding in the car between school and home. It never failed to provide a forum to discuss his life and mine. These were times that I was able to really get a feel for how he was doing even if he didn't express it verbally.
This particular day, he was a bit quiet. He wasn't his usual upbeat self. So, I started asking questions ... "How was your day, anything happen at school, how's the thing going with your friend, lots of homework tonight?" To each question, I just kept getting one word answers so I knew there was something on his mind.
So, I said, "Well, tell me what's wrong." "Awe, nothing really," he mumbled. "Come on, tell me what's going on." I looked over at him and I could tell he was mulling something over. He started to tell me about how some kid was pestering him. Having an inherent need to solve problems, I started trying to get a handle on what the real issue was and then began trying to formulate some ideas on how he could work through this with this student.
As I asked about the fifth question, he turned to look at me as I was driving and said, "Mom, don't get all up in my Kool-Aid when you don't even know the flavor!" Oh, my, goodness, I don't think I have ever laughed so hard in my life! At that, we both dissolved into laughter and the smile was back on my sweet kid's face.
The lesson I learned that day was that sometimes, we as parents, can't know or solve every challenge our children face, but we can be there to support them while respecting their need to learn how to navigate the friendship waters in their own way and in their own time. I learned to step back and "just be there" and to provide a place they feel safe finding joy in this life even when things aren't perfect.
Isn't that what life should really be about anyway ... finding joy in all that God has created. It's become a life challenge for me to find that joy in EVERY situation and God has never disappointed me. If I do get disappointed or have trouble discovering the blessing, it's because I have lost focus on what's really important like raising a man that knows how to be happy and that is a joy to those around him.
This particular day, he was a bit quiet. He wasn't his usual upbeat self. So, I started asking questions ... "How was your day, anything happen at school, how's the thing going with your friend, lots of homework tonight?" To each question, I just kept getting one word answers so I knew there was something on his mind.
So, I said, "Well, tell me what's wrong." "Awe, nothing really," he mumbled. "Come on, tell me what's going on." I looked over at him and I could tell he was mulling something over. He started to tell me about how some kid was pestering him. Having an inherent need to solve problems, I started trying to get a handle on what the real issue was and then began trying to formulate some ideas on how he could work through this with this student.
As I asked about the fifth question, he turned to look at me as I was driving and said, "Mom, don't get all up in my Kool-Aid when you don't even know the flavor!" Oh, my, goodness, I don't think I have ever laughed so hard in my life! At that, we both dissolved into laughter and the smile was back on my sweet kid's face.The lesson I learned that day was that sometimes, we as parents, can't know or solve every challenge our children face, but we can be there to support them while respecting their need to learn how to navigate the friendship waters in their own way and in their own time. I learned to step back and "just be there" and to provide a place they feel safe finding joy in this life even when things aren't perfect.
Isn't that what life should really be about anyway ... finding joy in all that God has created. It's become a life challenge for me to find that joy in EVERY situation and God has never disappointed me. If I do get disappointed or have trouble discovering the blessing, it's because I have lost focus on what's really important like raising a man that knows how to be happy and that is a joy to those around him.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
A Product Of Her Love
Everyone has someone in their life that provides the spark to explore the mystery of God and that person for me was my maternal grandmother, Marida Estelle Hancock, or as we called her Momo. From my earliest memories, I recall sitting at her feet listening to her read Scripture to me. We also sang many of the old Baptist hymns like Amazing Grace, Washed in the Blood, Old Rugged Cross, What a Friend We Have in Jesus and so on. I still have that hymnal and it makes me smile looking at the tape holding the binding together.
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| Marida Estelle Hancock, aka Momo just over a month before she was hospitalized. |
This was a woman that lost two children and raised three. She was married 50 years to the love of her life. She loved her family unconditionally. She choose to be a homemaker but never stop learning. Volunteering at her church, reading, playing games and sewing were just a few of her passions. I remember playing hours of dominos, rummy, yahtzee and the like.
In her twilight of life, she suffered with congestive heart failure for six weeks in the hospital. During that time, I stayed every night with her and I was able to ask her questions about growing up in the early 20th century. She completed the 11th grade and left school to get married because she was pregnant. She lost the baby late in her pregnancy only to wonder if her "sin" was the reason God took her baby from her before she was able to love him.
She also said it took a lot of her early married life to learn that my grandfather married her because he loved her not because "he had too." She carried that shame her whole life. There on her death bed, she expressed great regret because she didn't do all the things that she should have done and felt she had not used her life to God's glory as she felt she should have.
That night, I prayed to God for the words to help her realize just how important she was to all of those that called her a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, brother and friend. These are the words that God gave me that night:
We Are the Product of Her Love - Kerri Smith, Feb. 3, 1990
Memory sometimes omits many of the minute details of life long moments. I believe in most cases it is a cushion for hurtful times, it is a small blessing, a fading thought. Although in the moments of great joy, those details survive the test of time.
Embedded deep within my earliest memories is the warmth I felt when I was in her presence. The unconditional love and acceptance that radiated through every inch of my being. The smell of the baked goods, baked goods that were made with all the love possible. The eyes of a woman that mirrored wisdom and strength that one could retreat into for comfort. Her voice as soft and soothing as velvet that always knew just what to say. From the very first memory till the latest, she always guided and taught us that the love of God and of mankind is the most important action one makes in their lifetime.
Her love has shown us the importance and of this action. She taught us by example. Through this love, we became secure and self-assured. This unwavering love was a force that brought us through the tough times by guiding us to the Lord, our God. If God ever empowered anyone to assist in bringing His children to Him, it was her.
The lives she touched were not limited to her family, but to friends and acquaintances, as well. Her dedication to her husband and children laid an indestructible groundwork that tragedy could not crumble. This groundwork's basic elements being God, and love for life in all it's glory.
We live our lives lucky to witness a miracle of God's love in such splendor. She was a product of His love and an inspiring spirit. Our achievements in this life can be attributed to a wife and mother surpassed by none other. With this we dedicated all our love in return. The ever-increasing circle nourished and nurtured by her.
If our works on this earth are indeed rewarded in the Kingdom of God then her place will be among the elite with a crown filled with jewels. We can only attempt to touch the lives of others and make the impressions that she had on so many.
She always believed that the love you give is returned ten-fold. We can only hope she realizes that we love her in that magnitude. Even if it was not shown in the consistency fitting her but was always there.
We are the product of her love - her love of God, her love of her husband and her love of life.
The next day, I read this to her and she cried. "Kerri, will you read this at my funeral?" she asked. "Momo, I don't know if I can do it," I replied. "You can do it. Please for me," she said. So two weeks later, I stood before a full church reading these words. I was not a professional speaker at that point. I had never spoken before a group before, but I did what she asked me to do not realizing that within a couple of years, I would be speaking to hundreds of people about things I was passionate about.
The mystery of this life affords us with all kinds of experiences that help to give us a glimpse of our purpose and through this heartache and loss I realized that I enjoy sharing my experience with others. Everyday, I spend time trying to move closer to the that ultimate Divine purpose and most days I fall extremely short but I have come to believe that there are lessons in that as well. Seize today, continue to seek your passion and you will be blessed along with those who God intends to be influenced by it.
The mystery of this life affords us with all kinds of experiences that help to give us a glimpse of our purpose and through this heartache and loss I realized that I enjoy sharing my experience with others. Everyday, I spend time trying to move closer to the that ultimate Divine purpose and most days I fall extremely short but I have come to believe that there are lessons in that as well. Seize today, continue to seek your passion and you will be blessed along with those who God intends to be influenced by it.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Flesh Eating Bacteria Cases In South Carolina & Georgia
I went back on antibiotics a week ago and the pharmacist failed to put the "sun exposure warning" on my bottle. On Sunday, I was sitting outside in the shade and wearing a 3/4 length sleeve shirt. By Sunday night, my forearms began to breakout and blister. Then, it started stinging and burning. It continued to spread later that night and into the morning.
Believing that I was having a reaction to the antibiotic, I went back to the doctor. After she took a look, she said it was a skin infection that was caused by the exposure to the sun while on Levaquin. She gave me steroids to dry up the blisters and inflammation. She warned me to not to work in the yard and not to break the blisters because it could put me at risk of getting the flesh-eating bacteria that seems to be cropping up in the area.
Here's the background:
Four weeks ago a Georgia woman contracted a flesh-eating bacteria after gashing her leg while zip-lining. Aimee Copeland has lost her left leg, both feet, both hands and part of her abdomen since the May 1 accident. Just a week later, a Greenville, SC woman also fell victim to the same bacteria while in a Georgia hospital having her twins. Within 15 mins of noticing a painful stop on her leg, she went to the hospital. Both these women have been on life support, endured multiple surgeries and their future uncertain even though both seem to making great strides in recovering.
Now, there are four confirmed cases in Georgia of this infection known as necrotizing fasciitis, one suspected case in Pennsylvania and now a 78 year old grandmother in Greenville, SC. Doctors say this bacterium is a common strain “that you and I come in contact with every day and don’t get ill from.” The county health official says they see about 50 cases a year in the area.
The newest confirmed case in the Greenville, SC area had area cut out of her leg the size of a "regular football,” she told the local Fox channel. She was in a coma for five days and just recently was able to walk. It is not clear as to what caused her to contract this deadly bacteria but the medical community is saying that it invades the body through cuts, scrapes and other broken skin.
Latest Update: http://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/health/south-carolina-grandmother-latest-victim-flesh-eating-bacteria-article-1.1089473
Latest Georgia Case: http://newsfeed.time.com/2012/05/25/third-flesh-eating-bacteria-case-confirmed-in-georgia-possible-fourth/#ixzz1wNakOoV6
Georgia story - http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5i4NkRi0VThQREJfMjfi7uZ2FgIQg?docId=0f4190ed21db4d3fadcc3e40795ba942
South Carolina story - http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/05/17/us-usa-southcarolina-infection-idUSBRE84G1BG20120517
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Driving Into Daylight
This is about one of the greatest lesson I learned from my paternal grandfather W.R. Hancock, or as we called him Papa. He was, in my eyes, one of the greatest men to grace this earth, not because he was big in stature, had a booming voice or the life of the party but of his quiet, thoughtful wisdom. He was the type of man that didn't say much but when he did it was organic and cut passed the emotion and cluttering noise that deflects the real issues. He was practical in everything he did. Grounded in the difference between wants and needs.
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| Papa & my son, Drew |
Papa started a family trying to make ends meet as a farmer but he knew he needed something more reliable to support them. So he left what he grew up knowing to take a job in Panama City at the International Paper Company paper mill. When he was tested, he scored one of the highest scores on the mechanical test given to all potential new hires. This began a career of over 20 years until he had to undergo open-heart surgery that made retirement necessary.
In addition to his 40 hours of hard labor welding in some of the most dirty dangerous places throughout that plant, he always had a garden that he grew tomatoes, squash, beans, corn and peppers. Sometimes if we were lucky, he would throw a couple of watermelon plants in there. He was also the “go to” outboard motor mechanic in the area. For fun, he loved to hunt with dogs. We would load up in the truck on hot summer nights and head out to run the dogs.
Those nights were the time that his unique wisdom would be shared. He would tell us about how a person is only as good as their word and that if two people always agree, only one of them are doin' the thinking. Remember that through this political season!
But the one that stays on my mind these days is one that had such a bigger meaning than in the context he said all those years ago. I was living in Orlando when I got the news that my grandmother was admitted to the hospital and it was grave. It was about 9 p.m. and I wanted to pack my stuff and leave that moment. But he said to me, "Sugar Lump, you never drive into darkness - always drive into daylight. Sleep a few hours and leave before dawn and greet God's day in thankfulness." At the time, I was frustrated, worried but I agreed.
The next morning around 4 a.m., I had my car loaded, Drew fastened in and kissed my husband goodbye not knowing what I was going to find when I arrived in Panama City six hours later. The darkness enveloped me. Not just the night but the uncertainty of what was next for my family.
My grandmother was in the hospital for six weeks and suffered with congestive heart failure. In those weeks, I stayed with her nightly. I learned much about her and her life as a child, wife and mother. I also learned about my Papa, too.
Over the last several years, I have battled an unseen intruder and under gone over seven surgeries, developed life threatening blood clots and endure many unpleasant procedures. There’s never been a day that I haven’t thought of this quote from my grandfather of “driving into daylight” because I know this time of my life is the darkness with glorious mornings of God’s grace and brilliance.
I am thankful for everyday and even though I continue to battle on, I see the blessings that come my way. The beautiful smiles of my two grandkids being cared for by the man I helped to raised, my husband’s love, my siblings laughter, my mom’s wit and all those moments that come from an unforeseen place to bring true happiness to my heart.
My prayer for all of the people in my life is that you will take my Papa’s wisdom and spend your life “driving into daylight.” Chase that dawn everyday and our glorious God will rejoice in us with blessing in abundance.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Putting My Best Foot Forward
Imagine carrying your child a month longer than you should as I did in 1985. I had gained so much weight I hadn't seen my feet in months. Women endure all kinds of unpleasant things while nurturing their children to birth but no one ever mentioned ingrown toe nails. By this time in my pregnancy, wearing sandals were my preferred choice.
After about a month, I knew that all the home remedies weren't working on both my big toes. It was horrible and so painful. After trying everything, I broke down and made the appointment to see a podiatrist or foot doctor.
I pulled into the brand new, packed parking lot in the front of an equally new office. It was situated that there was a drop off under a roof and a flower bed between it and the parking spaces. The office was so new that the landscaping wasn't even placed yet.
I had to park in the first row closest to the building facing the future sculptured flora. Now, there was a sidewalk at the center but in my infinite wisdom I chose to step in the light rich soil and went to step over the curb onto the drop off area. Just as I raised my foot, my flip-flop caught on the curb and I fell onto the pavement instead only to look up and realize that the waiting room was all glass. To add insult to injury, all the waiting room chairs faced the parking lot. Have you ever had one of these moments when you would rather crawl under a rock? I can tell you I struggled with just leaving but in the fall, I had scraped not one of the big toes but both ... yes, now they throbbed and were bleeding.
I sucked it up and slinked up to the reception desk. As I was walking in, I realized that I had landed hard on right knee. I could feel it was swelling. I said to the receptionist, I know was laughing inside at my flailing around in their parking lot, "Uh, I fell in your parking lot. Would you happen to have some ice I could put on my knee?" She jumped up, brought me back a small bag of ice and replied, "See if this will help."
Still trying to make myself invisible, I found a seat as far from everyone as possible. I didn't get seated good before I heard my name being called. I limped my way to the exam room. The nurse asked my reason for my visit and I explained the situation. Then, she asked, "Did you fall down in the parking lot?" "Yes, I tripped over the curb." She asked, "Did you hurt your knee?" "Yes, it is bruised I think."
She asked me to have a seat and that she would be back in a minute. I looked around and it was such a new office that there were no curtains or blinds at the windows. It still smelled of paint. After a few minutes, the doctor came in. He examined my toes and said that I would need to have surgery to remove the infection and cuticles. At this point, I was like ... okay just fix them.
Then he asked, "Did you fall down in the parking lot and hurt your knee?" All I could think was geez do they have to keep rubbing it in?! "Yes," I said shyly. "Do you mind if I take a look at it," he said. "Oh, sure," I replied as I tried to pull up my jean pant leg only to have it stop below the knee. If you remember the styles of the mid-80s, jean legs were tapered tight to the leg. The doc said, "Let's see what we can do. I really want to look at it for you." Okay, here I am in an examine room with no curtains when the nurse comes in with a sheet that was too small for any bed I have ever seen. She asked if I would feel comfortable removing my pants and using that to cover up best I could.
I relented as the nurse insisted the doctor really wanted to look at before I left. I turned my butt from the window and tried to hold the mini-sheet in front of me with my teeth while I removed my pants. Not much of my behind was covered by I shuffled over to the chair.
The doctor reappeared and examined the bruised goose-egg forming just under the knee cap. "Hum, hum, I don't think anything is broken but it's gonna be sore," he said. "I will give you a prescription for some pain meds in the meantime."
I limped out of their office and made my way to home. When A.J. got home, he asked how the appointment went. I told him the long embarrassing story. He looked at me and said, "You mean, you went to the foot doctor and had to take your pants off?" Then, proceeded to laugh. My bruised ego felt about as bad as my knee at this point but I had to laugh at the revelation.
My phone rang three days later when I answered a call from the doctor. "Hi, I was calling to see how your knee is. Do you need more pain medication? I will be happy to call a prescription in for you." I told him thanks but the goose-egg was healing. "Please give me a call if I can do anything for you," he said in closing. When I looked over at AJ, he asked, "Who was that?" I told him that it was the podiatrist and he replied, "Well, he is either worried about you suing him or he really liked what he saw!"
Now, this has been one of many stories my family love to tease me about. Even when I went for a checkup on my jaw, a friend asked if I had to take my pants off. It makes me laugh every time. Learning to laugh at yourself is one of the healthiest things I have found and boy, do I give people lots of opportunity to laugh with me! Take a moment to enjoy everything even those we sometimes wish we could forget ...
After about a month, I knew that all the home remedies weren't working on both my big toes. It was horrible and so painful. After trying everything, I broke down and made the appointment to see a podiatrist or foot doctor.
I pulled into the brand new, packed parking lot in the front of an equally new office. It was situated that there was a drop off under a roof and a flower bed between it and the parking spaces. The office was so new that the landscaping wasn't even placed yet.
I had to park in the first row closest to the building facing the future sculptured flora. Now, there was a sidewalk at the center but in my infinite wisdom I chose to step in the light rich soil and went to step over the curb onto the drop off area. Just as I raised my foot, my flip-flop caught on the curb and I fell onto the pavement instead only to look up and realize that the waiting room was all glass. To add insult to injury, all the waiting room chairs faced the parking lot. Have you ever had one of these moments when you would rather crawl under a rock? I can tell you I struggled with just leaving but in the fall, I had scraped not one of the big toes but both ... yes, now they throbbed and were bleeding.
I sucked it up and slinked up to the reception desk. As I was walking in, I realized that I had landed hard on right knee. I could feel it was swelling. I said to the receptionist, I know was laughing inside at my flailing around in their parking lot, "Uh, I fell in your parking lot. Would you happen to have some ice I could put on my knee?" She jumped up, brought me back a small bag of ice and replied, "See if this will help."
Still trying to make myself invisible, I found a seat as far from everyone as possible. I didn't get seated good before I heard my name being called. I limped my way to the exam room. The nurse asked my reason for my visit and I explained the situation. Then, she asked, "Did you fall down in the parking lot?" "Yes, I tripped over the curb." She asked, "Did you hurt your knee?" "Yes, it is bruised I think."
She asked me to have a seat and that she would be back in a minute. I looked around and it was such a new office that there were no curtains or blinds at the windows. It still smelled of paint. After a few minutes, the doctor came in. He examined my toes and said that I would need to have surgery to remove the infection and cuticles. At this point, I was like ... okay just fix them.
Then he asked, "Did you fall down in the parking lot and hurt your knee?" All I could think was geez do they have to keep rubbing it in?! "Yes," I said shyly. "Do you mind if I take a look at it," he said. "Oh, sure," I replied as I tried to pull up my jean pant leg only to have it stop below the knee. If you remember the styles of the mid-80s, jean legs were tapered tight to the leg. The doc said, "Let's see what we can do. I really want to look at it for you." Okay, here I am in an examine room with no curtains when the nurse comes in with a sheet that was too small for any bed I have ever seen. She asked if I would feel comfortable removing my pants and using that to cover up best I could.
I relented as the nurse insisted the doctor really wanted to look at before I left. I turned my butt from the window and tried to hold the mini-sheet in front of me with my teeth while I removed my pants. Not much of my behind was covered by I shuffled over to the chair.
The doctor reappeared and examined the bruised goose-egg forming just under the knee cap. "Hum, hum, I don't think anything is broken but it's gonna be sore," he said. "I will give you a prescription for some pain meds in the meantime."
I limped out of their office and made my way to home. When A.J. got home, he asked how the appointment went. I told him the long embarrassing story. He looked at me and said, "You mean, you went to the foot doctor and had to take your pants off?" Then, proceeded to laugh. My bruised ego felt about as bad as my knee at this point but I had to laugh at the revelation.
My phone rang three days later when I answered a call from the doctor. "Hi, I was calling to see how your knee is. Do you need more pain medication? I will be happy to call a prescription in for you." I told him thanks but the goose-egg was healing. "Please give me a call if I can do anything for you," he said in closing. When I looked over at AJ, he asked, "Who was that?" I told him that it was the podiatrist and he replied, "Well, he is either worried about you suing him or he really liked what he saw!"
Now, this has been one of many stories my family love to tease me about. Even when I went for a checkup on my jaw, a friend asked if I had to take my pants off. It makes me laugh every time. Learning to laugh at yourself is one of the healthiest things I have found and boy, do I give people lots of opportunity to laugh with me! Take a moment to enjoy everything even those we sometimes wish we could forget ...
Sunday, June 3, 2012
A Change That Surprised Us All
The summer of 1978 was one of the best I can remember from my childhood. My aunt and my cousins had come to spend a month or so with us. We enjoyed fishing, swimming and going to concerts (I will talk more about this in a later blog). Our time was up and it was time to take my cousin and aunt back to Panama City from St. Petersburg, Florida.
I started looking around for other cars but there were none. In that moment, a station wagon came up from behind us, out of the mist. It flew by us and slid to a stop just in front of our car and from that car came five of the largest African-American men I had ever seen. When I say large, I mean Michael Clarke Duncan big! They were dressed in overalls and some in ball caps and others with bandannas on their heads.
We owned a Ford Torino and no, it wasn't the cool one that Starsky & Hutch drove. It was actually an orange color without that white Nike-like stripe. Crammed into sedan were six of us. The only male was my little brother who was just six years old. The route we took was North on Hwy 19 & 27 up the west coast of the peninsula. In those days there, there were stretches of 30-50 miles of nothing ... no stores, gas stations or homes. It was just miles and miles of timberland.
It was in one of those deserted stretches between crossroads that God become very real to me and how He works in this world. I have always believed and knew that miracles happen, but today, I would see for myself just how real.
The music was playing loud and we were all singing and laughing. Periods of rain and sun seemed to be the pattern that day. Then, after one real heavy down pour, we heard thump, thump, thump, thump. Mom turned down the music and we all got quiet.
"Awe, we have a flat tire," mom said. "Geez, this isn't a great place to pull off." The shoulder of the road was very steep and the wet earth made it even more dangerous. Mom and my aunt weren't worried about changing the tire because both of them were experienced tire changers.
"Everyone out of the car," she said. "Go stand down there away from the car while we get this tire changed." All of us kids walked down the shoulder to a flatter area and were well away from the car. As my mom and aunt unloaded the completed stuffed trunk, the kids stood there talking about what they were doing and how there were no cars to be seen.
Growing up in Florida, we were familiar with mist that rises off the hot pavement causing clothes to stick to your body and obscuring the distance through the haze. On this day, it created an ethereal feeling as we stood watching the scene unfold in front of us.
My aunt had placed the jack just in front of the rear passenger tire and began raising the car to release the tire. As the car was getting higher and higher, I began to notice that the car seemed to be leaning. Mom stood just behind my aunt, down the shoulder a bit. I remember thinking that didn't seem too safe but what were we to do. We couldn't walk to a station for help, there were no cars coming by and of course, no cell-phones because they were at least a decade away.
I started looking around for other cars but there were none. In that moment, a station wagon came up from behind us, out of the mist. It flew by us and slid to a stop just in front of our car and from that car came five of the largest African-American men I had ever seen. When I say large, I mean Michael Clarke Duncan big! They were dressed in overalls and some in ball caps and others with bandannas on their heads. To this day, I don't know how they unfolded from that car so fast. In an instant, they were running towards my mom and aunt. All of us kids were in shock. "What do we do, what will they do," raced through my mind.
They said not a word as three of them ran to the side of the car turning their back to the fender and grabbing the car frame from behind just as the car began falling. The other two men moved my mom and aunt away from the car while taking the tire tool, removing the tire and replacing the new one.
Mom was standing in sheer shock as the realization of what almost happened in the seconds before. What could have happened ran through my mind. If they had not arrived at that very moment, my aunt and mom would have been crushed by that car leaving us kids on the side of a road in the middle of no-where.
"Can I pay you, please take some money for your help, " Mom said. "Thank you so much." They shook their heads while making their way back to their beat-up old station wagon. We stood there as they closed their doors and they drove off into the mist in which they came. No words, no sounds.
As we repacked our car, I watched as their taillights disappeared into the distance. Where had they came from and how did they have such great timing. I knew in that moment that God sends angels to help people in times of trouble. Now, I don't know if those men were of this world or truly heavenly beings but I do know now that angels come in all shapes and sizes.
I have always wanted to commission a painting with those men holding that car complete with their angel wings because that's how I see them as I remember them today. They were opposite of all the angel depictions I had ever seen even to this day. The lesson I learned was that angels come when we least expect them and their timing is perfect. I don't like to think about how that day could have played out but instead cherish the miracle that it was ... a great lesson, indeed.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Parenting: Never Leave Anything Unsaid
It was May 1999 when I heard the news of a second school shooting a month after Columbine, Colorado. This shooting was just down the road in the neighboring state of Georgia. As the news reporter recounted the dreadful details of six students being injured because a distraught young man was upset his girlfriend broke up with him.
By this time there had been several such shootings, commentators were hotly debating why, how and what to do about these terrible things. They talked about how children at the time were so stressed and some went so far as to say, they were just terribly evil children.
One of my greatest pet peeves with parents is that they avoid teaching their children the hard lessons in life. Some people work themselves up into such a tizzy just making sure their kids never fail. Now, I am all for coaching, teaching and equipping children with the skills they need to do their very best, but the truth is not everyone can win every single time in life. There will be a day when they lose - period! Good parents teach their children how to lose gracefully and how to learn from their failures. These children learn to be well-adjusted adults.
I never wilted under the hard facts of life because I knew that unless I taught him in childhood, he would not cope well as an adult. This is one of the greatest lessons I learned from my mom. She would talk us through whatever it may have been, helped us see how we could take the lesson and grow as a person.
My son was heading to high school in a couple of months and these shootings had occurred in high schools. I decided it was time to chat. I always loved picking him up from school because that gave us 30 or so minutes to recap his day and mine. We shared a lot during those rides and many days we discussed current events. I always gave my commentary - both good and bad. He actually enjoyed talking about politics and sports. I welcomed his opinion and we debated - a lot.
As I pulled up to the designated area for pick up, I waved and he lumbered over throwing his 30-lb backpack in the backseat. I turned down the radio as he buckled up. I started by saying, "Listen, Drew, my job as a parent is to prepare you to be a productive member of society. One that cares for other people, animals and the world." I see him out of the corner of my eye rolling his. "What mom. Go ahead say it." "Well," I continued, "in life people have regrets because they don't say what's on their mind and when something happens they lament that they wish that had told their child, parent or whomever, their thoughts or feelings. Drew this is one of those times. I don't want to risk looking back and not telling you something that is very important to me and dad. I just couldn't bare it." "Awe, mom, what is it?" he said. "Sweetie, I don't think I have ever said this to you but I want to be very clear and I don't want any confusion or misunderstandings, okay?"
As I stopped at a red light, I turned to him and said, "Drew, KILLING IS BAD! We don't kill other people. Understand? I feel very strongly about this and I want you to know how I feel." To this my loving son said, "Well, duh!" and busted out laughing. We still laugh about it but the message is the same. I wonder how many things I may have missed in my years of raising him but I know that it was my goal to do all I could to teach him how to value life and to live in a way that enriches not only his life, but the lives of others.
I can say he makes me proud everyday as I watch him as a father to his two children. I made many mistakes but he knew my heart was in the right place. Parents out there - take responsibility in raising your children by not letting them just grow up and old. It takes work; however I can speak from experience its the greatest reward to see them become a self-reliant person. I wonder if the parents of those shooters ever took the time to say those simple words or to take time to listen to their child's day. What if the mom or dad of that Georgia boy would have taken the time to teach him about love and loss, would those other students had to endure that horror.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Fore a Couch of Compliments
Everyday we encounter people some known and some unknown. Each encounter offers us an opportunity to either raise someone's spirits or dash them. I would like to share two such events from my life that have special meaning to me. These individuals were experts in their fields with years and years of experience. They had trained others and mentored them professionally.
Growing up I came to realize, pretty early on, that I was what my mom would call, "a jack of all trades, a master of none." I could throw a ball and catch one as good as the average guy (I played boys baseball not girls softball). I could hit and run the bases as equally mediocre. I could swim enough to pass all the pool requirements and make the team but was never better than average. So, this was my lot in life and I was happy with that. Truth be told, I like change and variety, so spending countless hours practicing for one thing wasn't my cup of tea. I actually liked having the varied experience.
One sport I never tried as a kid was golf. We were, let's say, on the south side of middle class hovering just above poverty at times. And, we moved around A LOT. We weren't gypsies but an enlisted military family. There were no piano lessons or gymnastics for us because we all liked to eat. Actually, we loved to eat!
My career in marketing provided me opportunities to work local golf charity outings and we now had some friends that played golf. My husband and I decided we would give it a try. We had been to the range a few times, played some pitch 'n putt while at a conference in Vancouver. I had never had a lesson but just watched everyone else while trying to figure it out.
One day, we were at the driving range and we were hitting our bucket of balls when I man drives up to us in his golf cart. I knew he worked their because of his shirt but that's all I knew. As inexperienced as I was, I didn't want people watching me make a fool of myself but I teed up the ball anyway, addressed it and took a swing. I felt it was a pretty well hit ball for me but shrugged and went to tee my next ball.
The gentleman got out of his cart and walked up to me. He said, "You have a very nice swing." To this I said, "Oh, I am just learning to play but thanks." He stood there for a minute and said, "Oh then, that was a very nice swing." He then turned his attention to my husband and shared a couple of tips on his swing. It miffed me a bit because I thought why wouldn't he give me some pointers too. So I voiced my thoughts to my husband who replied, "You don't know who that was?" Dumbfounded I replied, "No, am I suppose to!" He went on to explain that he was a champion long driver. My husband has all this, to me anyway, useless sports trivia in his brain that comes in handy once or twice a year playing trivia games and knew who this man was because he was a hometown hero. That compliment still ranks up there as one of my all-time favorite compliments.
But the one that ranks higher happened several years ago while out in California for workshop. I was coordinator of the three-day event. It was about 7 a.m. the day following the workshop. A couple of friends at the workshop had planned to stay an extra day or two to sightsee and we made plans to drive over to Pacific Coast Highway from the event city. We knew it would take us an hour to get over there and we wanted to drive half the day south and then drive back in the evening.
I was driving my rental car with Norman as my co-pilot. Kathy was sleeping in the backseat. Norman is 6'5 or so and a police officer. Over the years, Norm and I have traveled to lots of cities & countries together for these workshops or conferences. We hit the I-10 towards the coast chatting about the workshop. It was Saturday and the traffic was light for residents, but for us, it was rush hour. It was a six-lane highway and I was in the fourth lane towards the middle. As Norm and I chatted quietly while Kathy napped, I had cars on both sides of me when the car in front of me swerved to reveal a red leather couch sitting across my lane.
Now, it was a beautiful couch and I might would have even like to have it, but as it sat in my lane, I feared it. As I reviewed my options in a nano second, I sucked in the sides of that car when I sucked the air into my lungs to narrowly miss the couch and the cars in the other lanes. I remember watching Norm with my peripheral vision. His face was so calm, no knee jerks or hands thrown toward the dash. At the moment I realized that I didn't touch the couch or the other car, I started breathing again. I looked over at Norm and he said, "That was some good driving, Ms. Kerri. I would ride with you anytime." Now that may not seem like much and many of you may have been faced with a red leather couch in your lane but Norm was a trained police officer with many years under his belt and had seen a lot. So his compliment is special to me.
The reason that I share these stories is that we all have the opportunity to create a memory that will stick with someone the rest of their lives. You never know how your words will carry them in dark days or bring a smile to their face when they need one. Both of these events spring to mind when I am having a rough day or feel inadequate at a particular moment. They are valuable memories that have enriched my life. Do you have moments like these that have become part of the fiber of your being? One way to honor them is to share them because they may inspire others to do great things.
Growing up I came to realize, pretty early on, that I was what my mom would call, "a jack of all trades, a master of none." I could throw a ball and catch one as good as the average guy (I played boys baseball not girls softball). I could hit and run the bases as equally mediocre. I could swim enough to pass all the pool requirements and make the team but was never better than average. So, this was my lot in life and I was happy with that. Truth be told, I like change and variety, so spending countless hours practicing for one thing wasn't my cup of tea. I actually liked having the varied experience.
One sport I never tried as a kid was golf. We were, let's say, on the south side of middle class hovering just above poverty at times. And, we moved around A LOT. We weren't gypsies but an enlisted military family. There were no piano lessons or gymnastics for us because we all liked to eat. Actually, we loved to eat!
My career in marketing provided me opportunities to work local golf charity outings and we now had some friends that played golf. My husband and I decided we would give it a try. We had been to the range a few times, played some pitch 'n putt while at a conference in Vancouver. I had never had a lesson but just watched everyone else while trying to figure it out.
One day, we were at the driving range and we were hitting our bucket of balls when I man drives up to us in his golf cart. I knew he worked their because of his shirt but that's all I knew. As inexperienced as I was, I didn't want people watching me make a fool of myself but I teed up the ball anyway, addressed it and took a swing. I felt it was a pretty well hit ball for me but shrugged and went to tee my next ball.
The gentleman got out of his cart and walked up to me. He said, "You have a very nice swing." To this I said, "Oh, I am just learning to play but thanks." He stood there for a minute and said, "Oh then, that was a very nice swing." He then turned his attention to my husband and shared a couple of tips on his swing. It miffed me a bit because I thought why wouldn't he give me some pointers too. So I voiced my thoughts to my husband who replied, "You don't know who that was?" Dumbfounded I replied, "No, am I suppose to!" He went on to explain that he was a champion long driver. My husband has all this, to me anyway, useless sports trivia in his brain that comes in handy once or twice a year playing trivia games and knew who this man was because he was a hometown hero. That compliment still ranks up there as one of my all-time favorite compliments.
But the one that ranks higher happened several years ago while out in California for workshop. I was coordinator of the three-day event. It was about 7 a.m. the day following the workshop. A couple of friends at the workshop had planned to stay an extra day or two to sightsee and we made plans to drive over to Pacific Coast Highway from the event city. We knew it would take us an hour to get over there and we wanted to drive half the day south and then drive back in the evening.
I was driving my rental car with Norman as my co-pilot. Kathy was sleeping in the backseat. Norman is 6'5 or so and a police officer. Over the years, Norm and I have traveled to lots of cities & countries together for these workshops or conferences. We hit the I-10 towards the coast chatting about the workshop. It was Saturday and the traffic was light for residents, but for us, it was rush hour. It was a six-lane highway and I was in the fourth lane towards the middle. As Norm and I chatted quietly while Kathy napped, I had cars on both sides of me when the car in front of me swerved to reveal a red leather couch sitting across my lane.
Now, it was a beautiful couch and I might would have even like to have it, but as it sat in my lane, I feared it. As I reviewed my options in a nano second, I sucked in the sides of that car when I sucked the air into my lungs to narrowly miss the couch and the cars in the other lanes. I remember watching Norm with my peripheral vision. His face was so calm, no knee jerks or hands thrown toward the dash. At the moment I realized that I didn't touch the couch or the other car, I started breathing again. I looked over at Norm and he said, "That was some good driving, Ms. Kerri. I would ride with you anytime." Now that may not seem like much and many of you may have been faced with a red leather couch in your lane but Norm was a trained police officer with many years under his belt and had seen a lot. So his compliment is special to me.
The reason that I share these stories is that we all have the opportunity to create a memory that will stick with someone the rest of their lives. You never know how your words will carry them in dark days or bring a smile to their face when they need one. Both of these events spring to mind when I am having a rough day or feel inadequate at a particular moment. They are valuable memories that have enriched my life. Do you have moments like these that have become part of the fiber of your being? One way to honor them is to share them because they may inspire others to do great things.
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