YOU, YOURSELF INCORPORATED

 

YOU, YOURSELF

Life isn't so much about how many times you get knocked down, 

but how many times you get back up!

  

Through everything that you will ever experience until the day you die, 

you’re going to be the only person present for every event.  

Don’t wait around for someone else to resolve life’s issues.

  

You never lose if you don’t lose the lesson and act on it!

THE GOLDEN GLOVE

The Golden Glove, Jamestown, NC

I recently got up the ambition to clear out all the stuff that had settled into the garage loft 25 years ago.  You gotta believe that if you haven’t needed it for 25 years it just might not be of use any more.  As I was cautiously removing stuff for a critical decision of keep, give away or trash, I came across my old Little League baseball mitt that was still encasing one of my practice balls.  Both the mitt and the baseball had unmistakable signs that they had been “rode hard and put away wet”!  The baseball had multiple scuffs and grass stains along with the original price inked in at $2.22.  The mitt’s leather which I religiously oiled to keep it supple was well worn and the inside was even more distressed.

Since my main priority was to pull a Marie Kondo and release as much stuff in my possession as possible, I started walking the mitt to the trash tote at the curb.  The trucks would be arriving soon to embrace the totes lined in the street and whisk it away to the local landfill for recycling.  I raised the lid and slowly thought about all the good times we had enjoyed in those innocent times of my heartland youth.

In the course of a lifetime, we’ve all had thousands upon thousands of experiences in our daily lives. The vast majority are uneventful and mundane. They pass without notice almost immediately.  As we age, they pass with even more immediacy.  However, there are those milestone events in our lives that will stay with us forever. Somehow, our memory cells keep these on a short leash and we can recall them at a moment’s notice. 

For some reason, one of the early milestone memories for me occurred when I was probably around the age of ten.  I got good enough to finally make the All-Star game one season as a right fielder. The wild card for that game, however, was that it was played under the lights at night. I didn’t have a lot of practice catching balls at night.  

Right fielders don’t get a lot of action in a ball game. I had been moving around the outfield looking for four leaf clovers. But then the game got interesting as the next batter singled to left field. The next batter up was a pretty big kid, so we all shifted and backed up. It only took a couple of pitches before he found a pitch he liked and he hit a long fly ball to right field! I quickly maneuvered over about a dozen steps to my right and backed up another few steps with my glove over my right shoulder in anticipation of a throw to the infield.

The ball sailed up into the night sky and suddenly I was blinded by the overhead flood lights! I totally lost sight of the baseball that was hurling towards me. I had about two seconds to react. I could duck to avoid getting a concussion or I could trust my instincts and stay put. So, without much time to debate my choices, I held my ground and no one was more surprised than me when the ball smacked into my baseball glove. I quickly noticed the runner at first base running to second knowing that the skinny kid in right field couldn’t possibly make that catch. So, I fired a strike into first base for a double play. The stands erupted (as much as our parents could muster) and I trotted into our dugout amid shouts of “nice play!”

There’s been a lot written and discussed about the dreams we human beings have in life. Many of those dreams of course get translated into prayers. And much has been written about unanswered dreams and prayers because the answer can be no, or maybe, but let’s wait and see what happens. In the movie Field of Dreams, the old country doctor gets another opportunity to turn back the clock and fulfill his earlier dream of spending his life as a professional baseball player instead of a health care professional. 

As a young man, my dad had been asked to try out for the St. Louis Cardinals farm club. The scout hit him scorching line drives and grounders for a couple of hours with none getting past him. He then offered my dad the chance to leave home and join the baseball club. But times were tough, and he passed on the dream, stayed at home and helped the family.

That major decision in my father’s life quite probably resulted in our family’s creation. And mine. It’s good to have goals and dreams in life, but when life throws you a curve ball, it just might not be strike three. It might be ball four and a pass to begin a new path around the bases that leads to a new home. Only later after his too early death did I begin to also understand the time and patience he spent with me to teach me the baseball skills he had acquired. I didn’t become a professional baseball player either, but I learned that we’ve got to work hard at something to be really good at it, sportsmanship, a love for athletics, how to be a team player, developing lasting friendships with teammates, the thrill of competition, how to be a good winner as well as a good loser, and the love of a father to impart his dream to his child after he had chosen another path so that the dream remains alive. 

 And like the movie, the best times involved the simple act of playing catch in the backyard. It’s a very human act of “I give to you and you give back” connectedness, many times discussing something about life and many times in serene silence, with just the sound of the rawhide ball hitting the leather glove. The final act of redemption in the movie unfortunately doesn’t happen all too often in real life. The prodigal son gets a second chance to say, “Hey dad, you wanna have a catch”? And his dad replies, “I’d like that”.

I looked down at the well-worn leather glove I was about to discard and noticed the faint wording on the label.  It read “Geo. A. Reach Co. Inc., Philadelphia, PA.”  Here I was standing in the middle of North Carolina holding my old worn baseball mitt from central Kansas that was made in the area where my son-in-law was born and raised near Valley Forge.  He and my daughter are now raising my grandson and I have a chance for a game of catch now that they are living in the area.  So, I walked back into the garage and placed my “golden glove” in a place of honor in my man cave.  Destiny called.

 

SHATTERING LIFE LESSONS

Shattered Glass, Greensboro, NC

“Golf is about how well you accept, respond to and score with your misses, much more than it is a game of perfect shots.”  --Dr. Bob Rotella

Over the years I’ve read a couple of the books by sports psychologist, Dr. Bob Rotella. I find that he has some pretty astute observations on the game of golf and life. I particularly like this quote because there are many things in life beyond our control except one thing—how we respond.  We fallible humanoids are anything but perfect and that understanding enables us to admit problems we have created, seek forgiveness, make things right and develop our character as we mature and move on in life.  Golf imitates life and neither are fair. Fair is where clowns, cotton candy and pig judging happen.

Passing by a shattered window a while back triggered a childhood memory of playing baseball with my dad.  He was pitching to me in our backyard and throwing some smoke to work on my developing strike out percentage.  Much to the surprise of both of us, I connected on a fast ball and sent it over our back fence and into our neighbor’s window!  I do believe my initial inclination upon hearing the shattering sound of breaking glass was to just get the heck out of there, while my dad just stood there in shocked amazement. Then he turned to me and calmly stated that we needed to walk over to the neighbors and confess. That seemed a bit too impetuous at the time, but he put his arm around my shoulder and we strode over and admitted our transgression. Then my dad offered to measure the windowpane and replace it for the neighbor.

Many years later, I was playing golf at the invitation of a corporate partner with a group at Pinehurst.  I was riding with a former associate that could hit the golf ball a country mile.  He wasn’t on the tour, however, as many of his drives sailed out of control.  As he teed off on a long par 5, we heard the sound of shattering glass on the horizon amongst the towering pine trees!  We probably could have scurried on down the fairway out of sight, but instead we drove into the pine trees to find a woman standing on her expansive front entry under a shattered transom window holding up a white golf ball.  Some women have likened childbirth to pushing a piano through a transom, but the size of this transom would have made for an easy delivery!  She wasn’t at all upset but remarked that they had lived in the home for years and this was the first time anybody had ever hit the house!  My playing partner immediately produced the company’s insurance information and we hurried on to our next shot

.

These life lessons reinforced the observation that you can never go wrong doing the right thing. That especially applies when something shatters your life and you need to step up to admit your role in a bad situation and work to fix it.   And God will work alongside us to bring good out of any bad situation. For example, our neighbor gave my baseball back to me and the woman gave back the golf ball!

THE LAST DUCK HUNT

Brother Bob's Duck Camp, Wolf Creek, Kansas

I recently finished a novel loaned from a friend by Nathan Jorgenson about the passion of hunting and life.  The protagonist in the book was a dentist in a small Minnesota community that had recently lost his wife, parent and best friend in the short span of less than two years.  Towards the end of the story he had been caught in an approaching winter storm while duck hunting with his loyal lab and almost lost his life, which brought it into sharp focus.  There were a lot of parallels in my life as well including his three losses in two years as I finished the book on the eve of a dental appointment for a root canal procedure!  One of the man’s revelations during this time of testing was that “when life hurts, that’s how you know you’re alive.”   

    

The story immediately called to mind a life-threatening experience I had years ago during a late fall duck hunt in central Kansas. Myself and two close hunting companions had set out for a huge reservoir well before dawn on a cold-to-the-bone starlit night. Our truck was pulling a flat-bottomed john boat we had converted into a floating duck blind using framed chicken wire laced with long-stemmed prairie grass. We were layered in warm hunting clothes with insulated boots and our pockets were stuffed with twelve-gauge shotgun shells. The bottom of the boat was crowded with dozens of floating decoys and a sturdy anchor. Our faithful black lab, Peanuts, was shaking with the excitement of another adventurous hunt. As we backed our floating blind down the boat ramp and into the frigid waters, we could hear the rush of wings overhead and the feeding calls of the wild mallards that had arrived overnight on the northerly winds. The evening weather forecast had predicted a severe change as a Canadian cold front was expected to blitz through the Midwestern United States. That’s the kind of nasty forecast which is a duck hunter’s dream!  Dropping temperatures fueled by strong winds stirs the migratory instincts of winged waterfowl across the world—and the adrenaline of passionate duck hunters!

We cautiously steered our john boat under the setting moon along the outer shoreline for about a mile or more until we found the familiar sanctuary of a relatively sheltered inlet cove. As first light was breaking the darkness, we began to deliberately set out the anchored decoys in the shallow waters in a wide arc, allowing a center opening for incoming flights of ducks to attempt a landing into the north wind. Then we edged the john boat back into a stand of tall grasses and tree saplings opposite the bobbing decoys. Almost immediately the spitfire strafing began into the decoys. One by one we singled out the lesser point drakes to fill our legal harvesting point totals. Peanuts would just return from jumping into the cold water to retrieve a downed mallard when he was right back into the lake after another. After about two hours of a career day on the water, my teeth had begun to chatter uncontrollably as we all noticed that the winds had picked up considerable intensity and white caps were gathering out in the lake away from our sheltered hunting cove. I cast a glance at Peanuts shivering at the end of the boat as ice crystals covered his wet hair. As I hunkered down behind the grassed frame, freezing rain and sleet were beginning to accumulate on everything around us. Rivulets of ice were forming around every stem of grass protruding from the icy waters. We were left with the sobering realization that we had over stayed our welcome, so we immediately began to retrieve our decoys and head for the boat ramp.

By this time, the waves were treacherously lapping onto the side of our john boat which began taking on additional weight as water instantly froze to the grassed frames. And then it happened! Since we were trying to cling to the relative safety of the shoreline, we had hit bottom and snapped the shear pin that protected the motor’s propeller. The north wind and waves were unfortunately moving away from land, so we immediately began to drift out to the open water white caps. Our weight and heavy clothing would have almost assuredly capsized us into the frigid waters. None of us would survive if that happened and we were faced with the fate of other duck hunters of years past on this lake. I chattered a quick prayer under my frozen breath. Then my friend running the boat found one last spare shear pin taped to the underside of the motor and he quickly installed it with numb fingers and steered back to the safety of the shoreline. Survivor instincts kicked in and we all instantly realized that we wouldn’t make it if this pin was also sheared. So, I grabbed an oar and crawled over the bow of the john boat on my stomach and began probing for the lake bottom. The second the oar hit bottom I yelled into the cutting wind to steer away from shore! We had to move slow enough for me to plumb for the bottom and fast enough so that the northern winds didn’t drive us out to the deadly open water. We labored at this for about an hour as the winds increased, the temperature dropped and the freezing rain and waves continued to weigh down the boat. None of us mentioned the possibility of running out of fuel as the motor strained to maintain forward progress while we zigzagged with and against the waves. 

I would have rejoiced in seeing a ghostly spirit walking across the stormy lake to calm the wind and the waves that were steadily sinking us. But finally, the boat ramp came into view and we crippled into its shelter and safety. The truck was barely able to pull the heavily iced boat out of the water on that frigid late October day.  As the truck heater slowly began to relieve the hurt and pain of frigid skin and bones, I began to appreciate the gift of another chance at life, realizing that spirit was in the boat with us.  I understood this was my last duck hunt even though the call of migrating waterfowl on a cold October night still stirs my soul, especially when they pass by a full harvest moon.  And I now understand another revelation from the book that “the love we have for people never goes away, even when the people do.”

WELL PLAYED

The King, RIP, Blue Hills CC, MO.

I learned a good lesson long ago from one of our previous pastors upon his return from dealing with a heart attack. He mentioned that prior to this game-changing event he would frequently get agitated and emotional when things didn’t go his way. That applied in spades when it happened to be something that was out of his Type-A character control. I can concur from personal experience. But, of course, there is always one thing we can control and that’s how we react to the situation. He used the example of a recent airline trip that was delayed due to severe weather in the Kansas City area which can be expected during the violent tornado season. He now simply pulled out a good book that he had brought along for just such an occasion, found a secluded seat in an inactive gate area and waited for the storm to pass.

Ever since I heard those wise words I’ve made it a point to bring a good book along for the ride, especially airline flights where a stranger in the cockpit is in complete control of my life as we soar through the skies in an aluminum tube. I had saved Arnold Palmer’s last book, A Life Well Played, for my recent Thanksgiving trip to Chicago and finished it on the return flight back to North Carolina. Thankfully, all my connections were on time and the book was a good traveling companion. Sadly, it was the last ride into the unfriendly skies for my long-traveled Road Warrior sidekick. The trusty ballistic nylon luggage bag had danced its last with one too many disgruntled baggage handlers. It emerged from the bowels of the airport conveyor belt with a ripped leather handle, a missing ID tag and the tongue of a lonely sock protruding from the wry smile of a broken zipper.

In the chapter on temper Arnold relays the story of throwing his putter in disgust over the gallery and some small trees when he missed a short putt at a junior golf tournament. He won the title but the ride home with his parents was total silence. Then his father told him, “If you ever throw a club like that again, you’ll never play in another golf tournament.” To Arnold’s Pap it was all about sportsmanship, “there was nothing worse than a poor loser—except being an ungracious winner.” Tiger’s dad Earl always told him to walk ten steps before doing anything after a poor golf shot.

That reprimand was life changing and reminded me of my high school tennis “career” where I lettered all three years in a new sport. As the first season progressed I had talked my parents into purchasing a rather expensive glossy black racquet for me. That was the kind of luxury that they seldom treated themselves to in those days. Later, I had observed the older players in practice tossing their racquets out of the court when they were disgusted with a poor shot. So, on one fateful afternoon as I hit a shot just outside the line, I wheeled around and tossed my racquet over the tall fence behind me. And then I watched in horror as it flipped and the frame caught the horizontal support pole which shattered the wooden racquet into a million pieces.

I anxiously returned home like the sad prodigal son. I was repentant and knew that saying all the older boys did the same thing was no good excuse. My parents weren’t happy with the loss of the shiny black racquet and most importantly my behavior. Later, I was informed the racquet would be replaced since I was doing a good job on the courts, but that would be the last one. Arnold finished his account by stating that “I never threw another club again.” Me neither. But I may have dropped a few golf clubs later in life before learning about the ten-step rule. I need to share that tip with a certain baggage handler!

LIFE’S LITTLE VICTORIES

Celebrating Knee Replacement, Lake of the Ozarks, MO

One of the most profound insights I’ve gleaned from life is that we should always celebrate life’s little victories. It really doesn’t matter what those may be, but you should make a conscious effort to celebrate them. The big victories are celebrated automatically, but all too often the small ones silently drift into the past and are lost forever. Maybe you could say it’s just a matter of counting your blessings, but I think it’s more than that. It’s an integral way of positive living to be conscious of these small milestones and therefore appreciative. I’ve also learned that we see in life what we look for in life. If we’re looking for all that’s wrong, we’ll find it. And if we’re looking for all that’s good in life, we can find that also.

So tonight I’m celebrating the occasion of the rapidly approaching 50,000th page view of my blog that I started in 2010 at the suggestion of a friend whose opinion I respect. This is very cool since I do not market my blog or sell advertising. I just leave it out there for any fellow sojourner that happens along the way. The top five countries that view my blog posts start with the obvious United States, followed by Russia, United Kingdom, France and Germany.

I find it interesting that one of my top five posts relates to our trip to Paris:

http://observationsworkshop.blogspot.com/2010/12/paris-scenes.html

And another relates to one of the return trips to my hometown in central Kansas:

http://observationsworkshop.blogspot.com/2010/05/street-lights-of-home.html

And a third relates to friendship:

http://observationsworkshop.blogspot.com/2010/11/drink-with-me.html

One of my favorite postings ranks in the top ten and observes that a labyrinth is a metaphor for life's sacred journey:

http://observationsworkshop.blogspot.com/2011/05/harmony.html

It’s been a fun journey to follow my initial premise to pair one or more of my photographs with a few exceptions and an attempt at creative writing about the things I randomly observe as I journey through this world. And sometimes the photo image inspires the posting while at other times the posting challenges me to search my files for the perfect image.

BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

Bridge over Troubled Water, Kiawah Island, SC

I recently read a column written by Regina Brett with forty five life lessons she had penned on the occasion of her “odometer turning 90”. None of us has enough time in a lifetime to learn everything we need to know, but we can learn from the lessons learned by others that have gone before us. So I enjoy gleaning what insights and truths I can find in these musings, because they’re like pebbles in the good road of life that help us keep our footing. And really, many problems are simply well disguised opportunities! To paraphrase Kipling, if we can keep our head while all about us are losing theirs, we’ll succeed in life and be able to press onward. Our attitude in approaching any problem is golden and even large issues can be broken down into their inevitable components to make them more manageable.

Dealing with life in general and the storms of life in particular are common realities for everyone. The column contained a handful of insights that I especially liked beginning with the observation that “Life isn’t fair, but it’s good”. Once we come to terms with this reality, life can definitely become more enjoyable. No one is being singled out for challenging problems. We all get our fair share, but I’ve learned that although we can’t always control these bumps in the road, we can control our response to them.

I’ve also considered many times that some folks simply seem to have a much easier path to travel in life than others. And I’ve learned that when someone attacks my credibility or cuts me off on an Interstate highway, my response should be measured. No one can take our self-confidence or self-control without our permission. Ms. Brett counsels that we shouldn’t compare our life to others or be too quick to judge because “You have no idea what their journey is all about”. When some erratic driver gives me grief out on the open road, I now give them all the room they need to drive ahead of me. You never know what’s going on in their head at the time. I’d rather have them in a position where they can be monitored versus in my rear view mirror. Which leads to one of my favorites, “If we threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back”! That’s probably more correct than we’d ever like to admit!

I’ve also used one of her reflective thoughts every so often that we should “Frame every so called disaster with these words, ‘In five years, will this matter’? And even more to the point, in fifty years who will really care? And every time we think that we’re being rejected, we may just be being redirected to something better!

Finally, one of my all-time favorite truths is that we can never cross the same river twice, for by then both the river and we have changed. Ms. Brett observes that “However good or bad a situation is, it will change”. The only constant in this world is change, so we might as well pull on our big boy or big girl pants and embrace it! She leaves us with the encouraging thought that “Everything can change in the blink of an eye, but don’t worry, God never blinks”! And like a bridge over troubled waters, trusting in the ultimate love of our eternal Father will enable us to lie down in green pastures and give us peace.