Failure, the School House of Success

Have you ever heard the old saying that you can fool all of the people some of the time and some of the people all of the time, but you can never fool all of the people all of the time?

I think that the person we most likely need to be concerned about fooling is ourselves. We often bring ourselves to ruin by what we think of ourselves. We feel like we are losers and will always be such. Reasons line up in a cascade of major premises playing against minor premises. These sorts of experiences start early in our lives and persist with us until we draw our final breath. Example: I asked the head cheerleader to go to prom with me. She laughed in my face and made me feel like a pathetic loser. Therefore, I will never ask another pretty girl to go to prom with me again. I will instead stay home and be depressed and feel sorry for myself.

Another example: I interviewed for a job that I really wanted. There was one opening and 2,000 people applied for the position. Someone else got the job. Why did I even try against such odds? I am a pathetic loser. I am going to work at the car wash the rest of my life and never try to get that great job again.

It is my personal experience, as one who can speak authoritatively on losing, that failure is an important component of a valuable learning curve. As we step back from failure and assess why we did not make the grade, we expose ourselves to valuable introspection. If we carefully assess the situation we can make great strides on the next attempt. Therefore, failure becomes a valuable classroom in the school of life.

I have a son who was an excellent baseball player. He was decent from the time he was a 6 year old  tee baller. He got a little better each year. He was selected to the All Star teams every year all through his early youth. In our town the jump between Little League as a 12 year old to the next level was a select league which was a popularity contest, usually between parents, known as Babe Ruth. The officials of Babe Ruth would go around to all the Little League district tournaments and compile a list of the top players. They would then send them a letter and invite them to come and join their league the next season. All the other players went to Junior Major League, sponsored by the Parks and Rec department in our city. All players in this league were assigned to a team and playing time was mandated. In other words, they played for the love of the game.

My son was sort of small and did not get the invitation to Babe Ruth. Lots of his friends went to the select league and he felt sort of down about the process. His Mom and Dad encouraged him to continue to play and enjoy the game. He excelled in this less stellar league. He owned the short stop position. He had a wonderful coach named Bill Lord who taught him that he was special. He made All Stars, played in a state tournament and grew in size and talent.

To make the story shorter I move along to High School. He made the varsity and was playing behind a kid who had gone through the select league. After a while my son caught the eye of his coach with his ability at short stop. Eventually he replaced the primadonna and sent him to the bench and became the starting short stop on the varsity of one of the largest high schools in north Florida. He played the position all through his high school days and walked on in college eventually.

He could have quit trying . He did not. He took his failure and worked on areas that he needed to improve. There is a definition of luck that goes like this: “ Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.” The impetus to prepare comes so very often in the face of failure.

Failure becomes a valuable school house. The pretty girl turns you down for that prom date. Rather than give up why not take some dance lessons. Buy some new clothes. You know what you have to do. If you miss out on the job or promotion then step back and prepare yourself for the next time. More education, certification, practice you know the drill.

Someone once said that success is failure turned inside out. 

Getting Beheaded in Atlanta

I don't know about you but I have just about had it with the crazy, insurgent, whackos around the world trying to intimidate all the rest of us. The recent beheadings of the 21 Egyptian Coptics by ISIS is all the rage on the news media. It seems to me that the media provides the cave man terrorist with just what they are looking for. The shock headlines that tell the world just how mentally disturbed they are and that we had all better lock ourselves in our houses and hide while they take over the world.

I am addicted to Afrin nose spray. So is about 50% of America. That is how Schering-Plough designed it so as to secure a robust sales curve for all investors and employees. I was in downtown Atlanta around 25 years ago with my family on a Braves weekend and had forgotten my Afrin, aka: snoot medicine. After trying to sleep in the Marriott hotel with all my family with me I made a decision to go buy some Afrin. I eased into my jeans and sneakers and a tee shirt, grabbed some money and went to the lobby. I asked the concierge where the closest convenience store was located. He responded thusly: " About two blocks down Peachtree. However, sir you are not going there at this hour are you?" My response was " Yes, I cannot sleep because I cannot breathe. I am addicted to breathing and therefore must get some Afrin nose spray." His response was, " Sir please don't do that. That would be decidedly dangerous. You are in DOWN TOWN Atlanta. It is 3:15 AM" I explained to him that I really did not have a choice and I was going to go. He suggested that I drive there and not walk. I agreed, he had the valet bring my car up and off I went.

Now to describe this location in downtown Atlanta at 3:00 in the morning goes beyond my capability on the keyboard. Let me just say that demilitarized zone sounds adequate. I was the only caucasion in that parking lot. However, I was determined and I exited my car and heard the following ( no kidding ) " Hey Bubba, you see that honkey over there? Do you want to kill him or do you want me to?" Since I was the only "honkey" in sight I assumed he was speaking of me. I reason, that one way or the other my breathing is going to be compromised. By that time I was committed. I went inside, located the Afrin, pressented it to the clerk and paid the $5 for 1/4 ounce of the precious concoction and headed to my car. ( I would have paid $50 for it ). On the way out I stood as tall as I could, kept my eyes moving and all I saw was 20 or so pairs of intoxicated, higher than a drone eyes following me. I never picked out Bubba but honestly speaking I did not see anyone in that group of people that I did not feel sorry for. If I had to fight, I was ready and liked my odds against pretty much everyone I saw. 20 minutes later I was back in bed, breathing deeply and off to dream land.

The next morning Nancy, my wife inquired as to where I had gone so early in the morning. I told her. She had thought I was milling around the lobby of the hotel looking to get something out of a vending machine. She turned pale when I told her of my experience.

Later on in the day I made the decision that we were going to the Braves game vi a MARTA. The brochure made it sound so much easier than driving and fighting traffic and parking. We had a MARTA station right by our hotel. After purchasing some cheaper than dirt tokens we were on our way. Mostly the train was crowded with people on their way to see the Braves play. Except for the fact that seated next to my daughter was a fellow with purple hair, ear rings  and numerous tatoos. He was leaning on my daughter and talking trash to her. She advised me and I changed places with her. He was disinterested in her middle aged over weight Father and we completed the trip without incident.

After peanuts and cracker jacks, hot dogs and a great game it was time to go back to the hotel. My family begged me to not have us ride MARTA back. So I hailed a taxi. After a 20 minute scary ride and a $40 fare we were back at the hotel. A good night's sleep and a smooth car ride back home to Tallahassee and now that trip is a faint memory. I have been back to Atlanta dozens of times since then.

My point is simply this. We have to decide whether or not we are going to be intimidated by the likes of ISIS or not. Do we surrender our freedom of movement because they put on public display their sick and tormented minds driven by a centuries old dissatisfaction with their way of life? Or do we continue to enjoy our lives and do all that we can to teach ourselves, our children and grandchildren that there are many beautiful things in this world that are worth taking the time to see. To retreat to our bedrooms and draw the covers over our heads renders us victims of those demented people. They win if they drive us to that option.

I like the bumper sticker that was seen prominently displayed in lots of places after 9/11. It said very simply and directly, " Do not be afraid..............Be alert."

An Attitude of Gratitude

On this Thanksgiving Eve I wish to post on the subject of gratitude. More specifically, the expression of gratitude. This is a matter which needs addressing because there are more people than ever who now comprise our society who are entirely too entitlement oriented.

There are numerous examples that we could point to. We are just now coming off of two nights of rioting, looting and arson in Missouri. The lynchpin of all that activity was the shooting of Michael Brown. It escapes me how throwing a brick through a storefront and rushing in and carrying out all the merchandise you can carry and then setting that store on fire in any fashion eulogizes the falling of an apparently not all that innocent teenager. I wonder what life would be like in Ferguson, Missouri if law enforcement pulled all their personnel out of that city for the remainder of days? Instead of gratitude for all the under paid and under equipped law enforcement officers in this country we see unbridled contempt expressed by a loud and brash minority. The majority of people in this country respect and cooperate and are grateful for that deputy, police officer, constaple or whatever you want to call him or her. Our gratitude should be in remembrance of the fact that we are able to sleep safely and warmly in our beds with little concern for what happens during the night because of those who patrol and watch in our behalf.

I think of the countless levels of resources, donations and volunteers directed towards New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina. The church I attend was a temporary housing site for refugees from that storm here in Tallahassee. I stationed myself at the church as a resource several times over a month. I spoke with many people who expressed appreciation for a roof over their heads and hot meals and protection from the night. Then there were others who griped and complained because their cots were not large enough. They did not like the food served. There were even incidences of slapping other refugees for invasion of space or other provocations. I remember seeing on TV a man coming out of a WalMart in New Orleans with a flat screen TV that he had retrieved during the siege of looting. He was wading through hip high flood water with that TV sitting on one shoulder. Never mind that he did not have a dry place to house that TV nor electricity to operate it. Instead of his mind being on gratitude for survival his was on getting something for nothing. How very sad that is.

The company for which I worked thirty years would give all employees a day off for community service each year. It was your choice as to where you volunteered your time. I elected to volunteer around the holidays with Christmas Connection. The goal of this charity was to fulfill a never ending supply of needs lists turned in by social workers.  Resources were tapped to fulfill many of those lists. They needed help delivering those packages to the families. I remember getting hugged by mothers who were so concerned about how their children were ever going to get a gift for Christmas. I also remember being afraid for my life going to spots in the community that were notorious for crime. I remember many recipients who glared at me, rifled through the boxes and did their best to intimidate me. Forget a thank you. I was just happy to get back in my car and lock the door.

I worked for a stretch at a homeless shelter here in Tallahassee. Every day volunteers would serve food which had been donated for that purpose. Businesses, restaurants, fraternities and sororities would give excesses of food to the effort. 150 or so homeless would be fed every day. The food was hot and nutritious. All comers were served. Over the time I worked we served thousands of hungry homeless people. I remember being overwhelmed at times. I can count on my two hands the number of thank yous that came from those we fed.

I remember back to a time when I was very busy with my work running the government affairs operations for a large corporation in three states. I was really hard pressed for time. My wife has an enormously compassionate heart. She had a friend who was married to a certified school teacher who had lost his job. I had retained a lobbyist/consultant who had ties to higher ups in our school system. I arranged to take this unemployed teacher to lunch at a fine restaurant with these educators. After the lunch I handed off his resume’ and asked for help in getting him a job. He was hired to teach in a middle school within the next week. He worked for 6 months and walked off the job. That was almost 20 years ago. I am still waiting on a phone call, note, etc from him expressing his gratitude. Somehow, I don’t think it is going to arrive.

I mentored numerous people over my thirty year career. I coached and helped many get various jobs in the world of pharmaceuticals and allied health positions. I was always happy to handle a resume’. Many of those people thanked me for my help. Twice as many did not. I remember when I lost my job. I was 55 years of age and was out because of a sell off of our division. I remember sending resume’s out to numerous people, many of whom I had helped along the way. I remember the sting of not even getting a phone call from the overwhelming majority of them.

I reflect back on all of these memories and come to the conclusion that people are selfish at heart. It is a very rare thing to have someone tell you thank you. I find myself, in the final analysis, being grateful that luck, an education and hard work has placed me in a position to help other people. I am fortunate to have been healthy all of my life and blessed with an ability that made me employable. Life has blessed me with children and grand children and a wonderfully loving wife. They have all given me much more than I have ever given them. I live in the land of liberty and draw the breath of freedom.

I am grateful this Thanksgiving for all that I have been given. 

A Lesson From Bellamy

Bellamy Dreher Vass

AKA The baby Duck

I want to share a lesson I learned from my little grand daughter Bellamy. I have learned and relearned this lesson over the course of my 68 years on earth. The lesson simply has to do with the foundations that we draw upon.

One of the favorite activities that Bellamy and I enjoy together is building with blocks. She hauls out this immense box of building blocks and usually against the back drop of Sid the Science Kid, Curious George or Word World we spend time constructing huge towers and buildings. Her favorite move is to slide out the blocks on the lower portion of our edifices which naturally brings the structure crashing downwards. She laughs a hardy laugh deep down from her little belly and always makes the pronouncement. " It falled over !!!!!"

I was reading an op ed in our local newspaper, The Tallahassee Mullet wrapper, this weekend. The editor was opining concerning how ludicrous it was for individuals across America to oppose any trend in society that moves us in the direction of tolerance for any ideology that extends freedom to choose to various elements. His position was that rooted in the Hobby Lobby supreme court decision. His take was that it was really a shame that a privately held corporation had the right to reject participation in the new Affordable Care Act based on their religious beliefs that dispensing birth control pills to their employees violated their first amendment rights to religious freedom. He gave several fringe arguments that you would expect to come out of California.

Echoing in my recent memory was another clash of this sort whereby a man who was in the photography business in a western state, where reason has long been abandoned, refused to provide his services at a same sex marriage. He was sued and taken to court and found guilty of discrimination. He was fined heavily and threatened with jail time because of his first amendment stance that his religious beliefs were violated in making him provide those services. Argument noted and ' No soup for you !!'.

Debate in the public square has been dealt a mortal wound by this trend. Religious Freedom has been swept aside as we seek to become more tolerant and anything goes in our public conscience. But not so fast, my friend. What makes your position more valuable than the other fellow's opinion? In case you need some help in analyzing this alarming trend please think back over the 20 or so years where political correctness has evolved on every front in America. It is unduly concerning that most of the fronts are foundational premises having their roots in the very early beginning of our republic as we know it today.

I attended a Christmas program last year at my grand children's elementary school. Not one of the little skits or songs sung had any reference to the birth of Jesus Christ. Now I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer but is that not what CHRIST-mas is all about? The birth of the saviour of mankind? I heard all sorts of little songs about dradles, snow men and Santa but not any mention of Christ. I queried my daughters and sons-in-laws about this phenomenon and I was advised that they had been mandated by the district office and the local school board that such expressions were strictly prohibited.

It is beyond alarming to people of my maturity that religious freedom has been relegated to the back rooms in America in favor of letting all sorts of philosophies of men prevail. Liberal judges, left wing attorneys and grass roots advocacy groups have taken the foundation out of our country. Soon we will look around and ask the question what happened to the America in which we grew up where families prayed together at a church of their choosing. Where what a mom and dad elected to teach their children and pray to our God when we felt we needed to has disappeared. Then we can make the statement to that query the simple little Bellamy response " It falled over." The foundations have been removed.

Have a look at this and see if you agree. You may have to copy and paste this into your browser.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAJGkQGz4yI

The Inalienable Rights of a Child

What seems to be lost in the current clamor to make Florida, and other states, just like California in the realm of same sex marriage are the inalienable rights of a child. Just like our steady movement to allow people the right to get stoned on marijuana we, lose the perspective of what sort of damage does this do to those unable to vote or protect themselves via other means?

It is alarming that our society, in its self righteous march, to being tolerant, free thinking and politically correct at all costs turn our backs on our children in the process.

In 2008 the state of Florida passed Amendment 2 at the same time that Californians passed Proposition 8. In Florida 61.92% of voters cast their ballot to define marriage as being between a man and a woman. I don’t seem to recall that there was much, if any, backlash in the media or otherwise in Florida. All the while, all hell broke lose in California concerning the will of the people.

A child is the innocent victim in all of society’s adult decisions to adapt a particular social lifestyle. The neonate, while still in the womb, is at serious risk of being terminated as its mother debates whether or not that child should be allowed to take the first breath of life. When does the neonate get a chance to express its opinion or cast a vote? Its only choice lies in the social alternatives afforded the mother. The neonate only gets to die as a result of the mother’s decision. The abortion debate being tantamount to an act of murder has been pushed aside as the social debate rages about life versus choice. The neonate loses because it does not have the capacity to organize into the realm of advocacy and grass roots campaigns which garner candidates, laws and regulations.

The same holds true for children adopted by same gender parents. The child, whether adopted or conceived, harbors no choice as it is born into circumstances beyond their control. Their future is contrived by those who, by whatever means, are legally recognized as this child’s parents. The child’s experience as it grows in society is subject to role modeling, bullying by others and a host of other social experiences that mold its life experience. We make great strides to pass legislation to prevent cyber bullying and other forms of bullying but don’t even give a thought to the confusion created in the mind of a child born into a world which eliminates either a mother or a father.

In my opinion, a child needs both a mother and a father. No one entity can provide nurturing to that child like a mother is capable of doing. Because they were connected, literally for the gestational period, that mother is inherently capable of giving sustenance, nurturing and perspective to that child. A father is the jayvee team in that realm. However, he provides a completely different form of nurturing in his role as provider and defender and the example he sets as he nurtures the mother and does a lot of the heavy lifting that comes with parenthood.

The will of the people continues to be rendered inert by the liberal opinions of a handful of judges. Their only perspective in their roles of advocacy is to be popular with the people who think they have the answers. The rights of children are cast aside in favor of adults who think they have the better approach to the traditional union of a man and woman. One becomes Mother and the other becomes Father. Those are roles granted to us by the almighty God of heaven and earth. In our steady rebellion away from Him the most collateral damage is endured by His little ones who ought to otherwise be nurtured and protected in the best manner possible.

Dog Days

Maggie the Wonder Bassett Hound

I have heard about Dog Days my entire life. I recently tried to explain the sketchy information I held about Dog Days to my son and realized that I actually knew very little about it. A quick visit to Wickipedia and I was a walking encyclopedia about the subject.

It seems that Dog Days are an ancient Roman reference. It incorporates 40 days commencing July 16th and concluding around August 25th. It is usually the hottest part of the year and I cannot argue with that fact based on the 100 degree days we have had here in Tallahassee. The stretch is tied to the rise of
the star Sirius, also known as the dog star. The ancient Romans believed that dragons were more active during this time, the sea turned to wine and that dogs acted much more erratic. It always seemed to me that Maggie was more lazy during this time of the year. Not that she was ever a bundle of energy.

I remember as a child hearing my grand mother and her cronies talk about Dog Days. She had an entire list of things you did and didn't do during Dog days. They were tied to the Farmer's Almanac which is another mystical  thing I never fully understood. Planting season, rainfall, arthritis spells, mood swings and all sorts of things are linked somehow to Dog days.

My father in law who was one of my best ever friends told me that you will never hear a mocking bird sing during Dog days. I was sitting in the back yard yesterday after having cleaned the pool and I heard the song of a mocking bird. I thought about him and I realized that according to the almanac that Dog days were now officially over. I have noted that the mocking birds that used to wake me up at 3:00 in the morning have been absent, heretofore.

I noticed this morning as I looked through Facebook to see who was getting married, dumping ice water on their heads, sending their little darlings back to school and getting committed to insane asylums that today was Love Your Dog Day. There were all sorts of pictures posted up of people's lovable little mutts and descriptions of the zany things they do and say.

I will say this about Dog days: They are extremely boring ! At least in my corner of the world. I can see that Dog days is a spectacular time to go on vacation and mix it up a little bit. I went to the beach a couple of times and that was about it. It is way too hot to play golf. I have October slated as my re-start date on golfing.

Anything that involves not being under a ceiling fan sounds like a terrible expenditure of time to me. Ah, but there is hope immediately ahead. Football season starts in all the land 8/30. Suddenly there is purpose in lying in my recliner under the ceiling fan with Dish network tuned to the myriad of games going on across the nation.

I have to go watch the Paul Finebaum show on my new SEC network. Man, am I glad that Dog days are now officially ended.

Baseball, Sit Back and Enjoy

Posting today about baseball. The picture above is of my 1960 Babe Ruth baseball team. We won the championship of the Greebrier County Babe Ruth League. I am the wormy little kid on the bottom right. That was 54 years ago. I went on to make the All Star team that year which was an honor. I don't think we got out of districts. I went on to play in high school and played intramural in college and was out. Since that time I coached in Babe Ruth and Little league. I was the League president of a 13-14 year old league in Tallahassee and took a team to the state tournament.Nowadays my biggest investiture is having MLB network on my sports cable package.

I remember the summer that I played in this league. I can remember a catch I made late in a game on a ball that was hit over my head in center field. I had to run like the wind to catch it. I remember catching it over my shoulder as I dove to make a desparation attempt. That catch preserved a win for our team and contributed to our winning the league championship. I also seem to recall that it made me a member of the All Star team as the coach hand picked me to be one of his "at large" picks. I have vivid memories of the smells around that field, the way my baseball glove fit and how hard it was to hit a good pitcher.

Baseball has always been intriguing to me. It is a painfully slow game to watch. It is slow to play it. You can go an entire game and never get on base and never have a chance to make a play in the field. Yet it appeals to millions of people. It has been called our national past time. Many people forego watching it by saying it is just way too slow for my taste.

My favorite movie is "Field of Dreams" produced and released in 1989, starring Kevin Costner. There is something ethereal about that movie. If you have not seen it, it is about a gaggle of ghost baseball players who live in a corn field in Iowa. The theme is concerning dreams that have not ever come true, where and what exactly is heaven and time travel. The movie speaks to the zen of baseball. The great James Earl Jones gives a sililoqouy in the midst of the movie that captures the spirit of baseball about as well as it can be captured. If you have not watched that movie you should You Tube the piece by Jones.

I am at peace when I watch a baseball game on television. I tend to be a Braves fan foremost and a Rays fan secondarily. However, it does not really matter what teams are playing, I am going to watch, eat a bowl of ice cream or a bag of popcorn. I am fortunate to live in Tallahassee which has Florida State University baseball which is as good as any in the country. When I am sitting in a stadium, my menu changes to hot dogs, nachoes or roasted peanuts.

My family is always assaulting me with questions about what to get me for my birthday, May 27th and then for Fathers Day, 2-3 weeks later. I recently advised them that I want fitted baseball hats, size 7 & 1/2, for each major league team. That will be a collection of 30 hats which I will like having. That should get them off of me for the next 15 years.

Walt Alston who managed the Dodgers many years ago was asked to explain the appeal of baseball to Americans. He is quoted as saying, " Baseball is like church. Many attend but few truly understand." I think that is a dead on accurate description. Speaking as one who attends church and has read and studied to try and foster an understanding of religion,  baseball is similar. There is strategy in what is going on between the batter and the pitcher, between the base runner and the hitter, the pitcher and the catcher, the base coaches and the runners, the in-fielders and the out-fielders. You can't explain it, you have to just feel and experience it.