If you've read more than one of my blogs over the years, you would know that I like to write in airports.
Something about traveling and the change of scenery and people watching gets my creative juices flowing and being alone allows me the time to put some words into my iPhone as I wait for my plane to depart. I don't get a lot of alone time, so I try to make the best of it when I do.
Today, I am at the Moline/Quad Cities airport bar. I just dropped my niece back off with her mother after 3 weeks of fun filled Texas summer break fun!
I love my niece.
I hate this airport.
Worst food, nothing to do, warmest beer and they save tons of money with their lack of air conditioning. I am confident that it's warmer inside than it is outside right now. Might be why the beer is warm? Not a huge deal for them, since the airport bar closes at 6pm.
There is seriously nothing to do at this airport! The bar has one TV and we are watching golf. Half the people in here are acting like they give a shit about golf because they have nothing to do but drink and look at something.
The benefit of this airport is that it takes roughly 3 minutes to go through the metal detector and get to your gate. Don't worry about being here 90 minutes early because there are no lines to anything. It's an easy in and out, small city, airport.
I only really hate this airport because 3 weeks ago I spent an extra day here. The reason? The toilet on the last flight out, my flight, was broken and that caused me to miss my connecting flight in Chicago. My flight, at 7:20pm was the last flight out of this small airport, so my 8 year old niece and I were forced to spend the night in the nastiest hotel I have ever stayed in. There may or may not have been an hourly charge for the rooms and maybe a homicide or two have happened here, but this was the 6th place I called and the first one that wasn't sold out. Gee wonder why?
The bonus? American Airlines refused to pay for a room, even thought it was their fault I had to spend the night. Not even the big blue eyes on my beautiful 8 year old niece could convince them to do the right thing. The ladies working the desk for the airlines had a party to get to and my "little issue" wasn't a priority for them as they were just trying to close up for the night. I know there was a party because I am the world’s greatest eavesdropper and I could read the "I am getting the hell out of here" body language pretty well.
I'm waiting till I get back from this leg of the trip to write my nasty worded email to them. I have a fear that if I write it before this leg of the trip or while I wait for my next flight, I might get grounded again. Instead, I'll just blog about it for now. A prematurely written, strong worded, email might jinx things for me on the way back.
I always try to do the right thing. Do you? Honestly?
It sucks sometimes because it often causes us more stress down the road, but I think it's important. Who knows if the karma from this behavior will ever pay off for me, and that's not what it's about, but I still think it's important to take the time to do the right thing. To take the extra steps to bring comfort to another person or help when you can actually help. No false promises. No doing it in hopes of a later payback. No keeping score. Just doing the right thing for the right reason.
When I was a kid in high school I would stay late so that the last kid waiting on a ride after baseball or band practice wouldn't have to wait alone. Often, I was the last kid, and knowing how that felt when everyone just left you there made me more sensitive to the situation.
I've spent more Saturdays than I can count moving people into their new house or apartment. I've never really cashed in on these favors myself, but I can't not help people move. You know when they ask, it's usually out of desperation. One day I'll talk about the 5000 pound kitchen table I carried by myself up 3 flights of stairs and almost died. I'm still internally bleeding from lifting it! One day I will tell you. One day. One day.
I've paid bills and given money to friends and family with the knowledge that I will never see it again. I've reached out to comfort others that may not have done the same for me. It's the right thing to do.
In business, I let people do their job and present their case. Even when they are trying to convince me to agree to do something that I might never do. They are not spinning their wheels because sometimes they actually do convince me to change my mind. Above all, it’s important that they are allowed to get their "at bat" and it's important that I try my best to give them an audience. I am respectful of their time if they are respectful of mine. Again, it’s the right thing to do.
At the end of the day, showing respect is never a bad thing to do. It's the right thing to do and none of us are too busy, all of the time, to take a minute to listen or help...
Unless you're an airline ticket person for American Airlines that just needs to get to a party in an hour; then it's ok to strand a man and a young child at a tiny airport between Iowa and Illinois without even attempting to make a phone call on their behalf.
#Tryharder
Soda
Forest Gump's mom was wrong.
When we took family trips my parents only bought us one soda (Pepsi) and a bag of chips. All 4 of us had to share these items. With the chips, it was a free for all, just reach in and grab, but with the soda, there was a different method of distribution.
The bottle of soda, that might have been 16oz, went from oldest to youngest with the hierarchy of sips. First my sister Kim, then my brother Michael, then me, then Jimmy. Jimmy was the last to get a swig of soda. Jimmy often got stuck with the backwash. Backwash is something that you don't really become aware of till you get older. Poor Jimmy. At least I wasn't Jimmy I guess.
We would take these long car trips, all laid out in the back of my dad’s giant Oldsmobile. This car was special to my dad because it once belonged to his father. I remember us renting a car and driving up to Chicago to pick the 79 Oldsmobile up from my Gram. In order to make it legal or whatever, my dad had to pay his mother a dollar for the car. All in all, I would say that's a pretty good deal. For the longest time, I thought all cars only cost a dollar. Now that I am an adult, with two payments of my own, I would say I was way off!
Depending on your age, you probably did this too. You know, where the folks stuff all the kids in the backseat, maybe or maybe not with seat belts and you'd drive for hours to some place, get out, do or see something, get back in and drive home. Most of the time we went on these trips to see some landmark or we went to some middle of nowhere creek or river and went swimming. All the while, my old man sipped on his beer and smoked a Marlboro. The majority of our trips would cost a tank of gas, a 6 pack and some snacks. We didn't have "theme park money". We weren't "admission fee rich".
We made the best with what we had and saw everything we could within a 3 hour, tank of gas radius, from where we lived. All the while, taking turns sipping on warm Pepsi.
The anticipation of waiting for your turn on the plastic bottle was often difficult. Watching the other kids before you take their time, or at least it seemed like they were, savoring their extended swig of carbonated sugar. It's not that you were all that thirsty, you just didn't want them to drink all of it before you got one last turn. And maybe you thought you were more worthy than they were? Maybe you were thirstier than they were, but you really had no way of proving it. I was the middle boy. I got less than the boy ahead of me, but more than the kid behind me, but not nearly close to what the girl got.
Sometimes that's life isn't it?
Sometimes in life you have to wait a lot longer than you want for things to come your way. You have to bide your time, not complain and pay attention so you don't get skipped. Keeping your eyes on the prize like you would that bottle of warm soda.
When it's your turn, you need to grab it with both hands and make the best out of the swig you take. And if you only get one sip, so you better make it count.
#Whatsyourstory
I showed up for college more than a week before the rest of the school was required to check in. Not because I wanted to get a good head start on my college education, but because I was in the marching band.
Now before you start making all the band geek jokes or tease me about "this one time, at band camp", I would like to point out that I passed on two opportunities to play Junior College baseball in order to go to a four year school closer to home. Playing the trombone was something that I was good enough at, that it allowed me an opportunity to pay a little less to go to school. That, and yes, band girls were easy. Well, some were... I kid.
Think about it. All these freshman girls, fresh out of high school, looking to talk to a college guy. Also, as a college guy, you wanted to have first crack at hitting on these girls before the rest of the school showed up; along with all the better looking and more interesting guys for them to talk to. You had to act and move fast! Especially if you were a band nerd. You had to convince them you were cool before they met people who were actually cool.
Along with all my fellow band nerds, many of the athletes had to show up to college early and because of that, I got a jump start on meeting my first real college roommate. He played basketball and had just transferred from a Junior College. In an effort to keep him somewhat anonymous, in case he ever decided to run for office, I will not share his name. I don't want to be the reason he never gets elected and if he does get elected, he will certainly need to pay me hush money.
He was older than me, already had two years of college under his belt and knew things about girls that even my older brother never shared with me. For a young 18 year old kid from a small town in Texas, he was the best ambassador for college life a guy could ask for.
We took a little time sizing each other up and learning a little bit about each other. He shaved every day, while I shaved once a month. He was a lot taller than me and had dialed in his swagger and confidence. I actually grew an inch when I turned 18. I was also still trying to figure out who I was and what college was all about.
Before me, nobody in my family had ever gone to college, so a lot of my first days and month revolved around trying to keep the world from spinning too fast and finding balance in my college life. Most likely, if you went to college, you have an idea of what I am talking about. Like a rookie QB in the NFL, it takes a minute before the game slows down enough for you to catch on. That's the first 3 months of college.
I was still dating the girl from my home town at the time and trying to understand what I was going to do about all that. Like many of the "girls back home", she was still in high school and seeing her, even though my college was only 186 miles away, was still a challenge. I marched in the band on weekends so that made it even more difficult. In a matter of a few months, our relationship ran its course and I was able to focus my romantic intentions elsewhere. On college girls.
My roommate never had a problem with getting the attention of the opposite sex. He was a good looking guy and, like I said earlier, had the confidence that comes with 2 years of college experience. For him, it was never an issue of finding girls. His issue was trying to balance them all. Lucky for him, he had a very organized and task oriented roommate that could help to keep his relationship affairs in order. (And talk to his mom when she called to check in on him-he hardly ever came home at night).
I struggled my first semester in college. Between being homesick, not knowing what to expect from college and generally overwhelmed by the whole experience; my grades were borderline. When I wasn't in class, I was studying in the library or in the room. My life was 90% school work and 10% fun. I also lived on 20 bucks a month, so any fun that I had was very budget friendly.
After a few months of living in the same dorm room, we became very comfortable and honest with each other. My roommate began to impart his knowledge and experience to me. He too came from a small Texas town. He too had done the "girl back home" thing. He too had an older brother that didn't teach him everything he needed to know about girls.
He gave me two pieces of advice in the year we lived together. Till this day, I still use these words in my life and career.
Lesson #1: Balance is important. Your work will suffer if you do not let loose and have some fun from time to time.
The reason my grades were borderline was because I was too buried in my school work. You can't feed the flame of knowledge unless you give it some air every once in a while. College is supposed to be work, but the only memories you share with others are the ones related to fun. During my first semester in college, I didn't have any real stories to share because I was not allowing myself to have fun. I was scared that, if I had fun, I would certainly fail at school. Growing up thinking you were not meant to go to college, because nobody in your family ever went, created an insecurity and a fear of impending failure unless you immersed yourself into your work. I didn't understand balance. Once I did, my grades jumped and I finished my college career in 4 years. Lots of As and Bs.
Lesson #2: Tell them bitches what's up.
Yes, it sounds crude. You have to understand the life group of the time. We never called girls that name (bitches) to their face, but many young men at this age used this word in an effort to sound "hard" in front of their friends. I am sure girls had something derogatory for us as well. I hope? In order to drive the point across to me, my roommate used the word and I understand what he meant.
He had sat and listened to me talk to girl after girl on the phone, using my limited "mack" skills and he had had enough. My talents had gotten me some attention, but I was striking out or getting put in the "friend zone" more that I was getting to 2nd base. I was doing what I thought I should be doing-playing the game. Working the angles and running around in circles to get and maintain the attention of the opposite sex. I had no idea what I was doing and I wasn't being myself.
He then began to explain that if you stop lying or playing games and just come clean, you would have more success. Stop trying to be cute and work on just putting it out there. "Hey, I like you. If you are into me, then let's hang out. If not, no big deal".
After years of playing games, wondering if she likes me or not and trying to read between the lines of the notes that were passed between classes; it all suddenly came clear that none of that shit was working. In the end, being honest and forthcoming was the key to successful relationships.
I became addicted to the truth and because of that, I was never lonely on a Saturday night. I was successful and confident because I had nothing to hide. The truth shall set you free!!!
My roommate went on to become a successful person in business. He has a beautiful wife, big house, an awesome family and we are still friends till this day. Life has been good for him and he deserves all the success he has been blessed with.
I learn things from people every day. I weave those life lessons into my life and often share them in my books and blogs. Those two big takeaways that were given to me by my roommate are things I still use in my business and personal life day in and day out. I balance my work and personal life. I enjoy my work and I enjoy my family. Life is good.
I also still tell them "bitches" what's up. But the "bitches" these days are the people I interact with every day. I don't lie. I don't play games and I don't do "surface" relationships. If you are in my life, then you get the real me and all the energy and knowledge I have to give. You get the truth and you get what's in my heart. So far, it's worked out pretty good for me.
Balance your life. Tell them "bitches" what's up. Do the right thing and don't put yourself in situations where you have to lie or apologize. You will hurt some feelings, but that's part of the journey. In the end, you'll be happier, healthier and more successful. You deserve all those things, so stop sabotaging yourself.
PS-My old roommate will probably read this and if he does, he will know that I used to make out with his sister in the dorm parking lot. Sorry man, but thanks for your help in the swagger department.
Murphy kids
Sitting and watching Orange is the New Black the other night and I randomly had a memory about having to get a sports physical when I was in high school. Weird right? Nothing about the episode triggered it-it was just one of those odd flashbacks that resurface from time to time. Not some strange repressed memory where I suddenly feel scarred from having to turn my head and cough, but one of laughter. Uncontrollable laughter.
We've all done it. Laughing till we cannot control ourselves; brought on by nervous feelings and thoughts. Please tell me I am not alone in this? Almost every time I am at the doctor’s office, I get a strange feeling that comes over me. That feeling of nervous laughter and as I walk into any doctor’s office, my brain always seems to pull up this memory. Psychologists probably have some over analyzed term for this, but I'll just call it laughter brought on by nerves. I laugh even more when I think of this story.
My brother Michael and I were sitting in the reception area waiting for our names to be called, so we could go in and face the inevitable. A man, who we hope is wearing gloves, was about to touch our balls. Although we had had physicals before, for some reason this time was met with uncontrollable laughter. Tears rolling, stomach hurting and can't breathe kind of laughter.
I am not sure what triggered it or why this doctor’s appointment was any different than the rest, but Michael and I lost our shit. Red faced, trying to catch our breath with tears rolling down our faces. I'm sure we were an embarrassment to our poor mother who was sitting down and giving us "the look". No matter how serious she looked at us, we just couldn't stop the giggling.
Laughter is a great coping mechanism. Whenever life hits me with anything, I always seem to find a way to make a joke or laugh of it. I don't see it as a way to mask the gravity of a situation, nor is it a sign of immaturity. I think when you face enough adversity or challenges in life, laughter just makes more sense than melting down. Like a pressure release of a balloon that has been overinflated, laughter is the ultimate release.
There are not too many moments in life that couldn’t benefit from some needed levity. Think about all the situations you've faced in life. How many of those would be improved by a few chuckles? It's just as important to laugh as it is to cry, but laughter seems to be a little more socially acceptable. When you are crying, people want to know what's wrong, but when you’re laughing, people want to know what they are missing out on.
Again, I accept the gravity of the situation, but it won't stop me from making a joke on my, or someone else's, death bed. Honesty, after I tell everyone how much I love them before I die, I want to end on a joke. If my last words on this earth were "that's what she said" I think that would be awesome! Ending on a punchline opposed to a flat line is the best way to go.
Before his wake, my sister Kim and I got a few hours to ourselves to sit next to our brother Michael's casket and just talk. The same room my brother and I stood in before we buried Jimmy more than 25 years prior. As we held hands, we took turns trying to remember things or say things that would make the other person laugh. Crying was inevitable, but laughing was necessary. We are Irish and we are naturally funny, so that's what we do. We didn't just tell each other stories, we also tried to one up each other with who could say the worst and most wrong thing to the other. I will always win at this because I have the ability to take things farther and darker than most. Nothing is truly off limits and sometimes I am guilty of taking things too for. Yet, it's not like my brother was going to get up and pound me was he? (See what I did there?).
Laughter is a powerful thing. Don't discount it or restrain it from happening. Sure, you have to maintain professionalism at times, but life is too short to not at least attempt to balance the gravity of a situation with a bit of humor.
Stop taking yourself so serious.
#kids #dadlife
The glow on their faces as they swirled and waved their sparklers was something out of an Americana movie.
Almost the entire time I was growing up it seemed like
someone was living with us? My parents would have friends that were going
through difficult times and those people always seemed to end up living in our
guest bedroom or couch.
Wives would throw them out or they would lose their jobs
or go through some sort of rough patch in life and they would find themselves
sitting at our dinner table. They were all good people and my parents would
never expose us to anyone that they didn't trust. You have to understand that
my dad is a very intimidating man and feared by many, but deep down inside, had
a soft spot for people who just needed a little help from time to time.
Needless to say I called a lot of people I wasn't related to "uncle"
while growing up. It sounds more
official and easier to explain when introducing these people to friends.
"Uncle Rick" makes more sense than "This is Rick. His girlfriend
through him out of the house and he lost his job, so he's staying with us till
he gets back in his feet". Know what I mean?
dad made was Doug. Doug and his wife and kids loved just around the corner and
Doug worked with my dad. With Doug living around the corner, he and my dad
drove to work together and because of all these conveniences, they naturally
became drinking buddies. How he got the nickname "Deputy" is for
another time and another story.
in with us. You know the stories or see movies about people who become
"broken"? In short, that's
what happened to Doug. A few years later, after he moved away to Houston, Doug
died from what could be considered a mixture of alcohol and a broken heart. For
reasons that I am still not sure about till this day, Doug's ashes were given
to us. Not to his ex-wife. Not to his children, not to his family, but
bequeathed to a group of his closest friends.
traveled the back roads of the hill country. He knew every hole in the wall bar
in every county of central Texas and beyond. Doug had a very southern accent
and after just 2 beers, he would get harder to understand and sound drunk-even
when he wasn't.
named Margie for sounding "too drunk". You gotta sound pretty drunk
to get thrown out of a bar in Texas. Perhaps it was more because Doug was a
terrible tipper? Doug getting thrown out, resulted in my dad and his friends
having to leave as well. You can't let your buddy just sit in the car for hours
and wait! Well you can, but it's just
not nice. This woman was a chip on his shoulder for years and my dad never
pulled any punches when making fun of Doug while telling this story. Margie was
about to receive a "gift" from Doug from beyond the grave. Doug's
best friend Bo hatched an idea and decided to take some of Doug back to
Luckenbach with him and to pay a visit to then woman that gave all of Doug's
friends so much storytelling ammo.
woman with a very special dollar bill. The same dollar bill, that just a few
days prior, was dampened and then rolled in Doug's ashes. Only a close group of
people know this story and to my knowledge, it has never been shared on this
level till today.
in hopes that he would travel to the gulf and a little bit of Doug would end up
in the folds of a bikini wearing spring breaker.
of Doug in their as well. We shot guns into the hole and poured a little beer
and whiskey in for good measure before planting the tree. We did a few other
things with his remains, but nothing more epic than what I shared already. We
still miss Deputy Doug, but we don't have to travel far to think of him.
what they want to do with the deceased or when they bury people or get them
cremated, even if that person never wanted to get cremated or buried in a
certain location, I always think about Doug. As we get older we tend to know
more dead people so the thought crosses my mind more today than before. Doug
had no plan for what would happen to him after he died; most likely because he
died at such an early age. Nobody wanted him and his remains were left to a
group of friends to deal with. Nobody fought over Doug and we all just agreed
that his remains were our responsively and they would be scattered across all
of Texas. No one place to come visit him in peace, but rather letting his
spirit live on everywhere you looked. Knowing what a free spirit, go with the
flow kind of guy he was, I am sure he is tickled by how we dispensed of his
ashes. We would especially be happy to know that some of our actions were
borderline illegal or had shades of bad intentions.
parents and grandparents, try to make the whole thing about them. They bury a
parent in a cemetery closer to them so they don't have to travel any farther
than they need to visit the grave or they think that the last request of the
deceased was stupid and instead, make the decision to do something they deemed
more practical.
the decreased. If they want their ashes scattered under 2nd base of the little
league field they played on 50 years ago, then it's up to us to see that this
happens. If they want to be buried in a plot next to another family member in a
particular city, we should honor that as well. If my wife passes before me and
wants to be buried at a cemetery near the ocean, I would honor that. Even if my
final resting place is 1000 miles away. Yes, It would be a burden on my kids to
travel so far to see both of us, but if you look at it spiritually, it's not
like people need a shrine to truly remember the people they love.
we never needed a stone to jog those memories. We don't need to physically
travel to think about the people we love. We just need to think about them and
smile.
other in Blanco County and I miss them every day. They are an hour away and I
pop in from time to time to squat down and pray for them or have a one sided
conversation in my head. I miss them, but I don't feel guilty for not stopping
by as often as I can.
They say you die twice. Once when you leave this earth and once after the last
person that knows you passes away. Through my stories and blogs, I hope to
extend that second one for as long as I can.
my siblings and I convinced ourselves that it was something we needed to do. My
parents would use this phrase often to get us to do chores or tasks that were
not always the most fun. Adding the phrase "it builds character" to
tasks is the equivalent to saying "do this and you'll get a surprise"
or in our case "do this and mom and dad won't beat you".
still did it. We just needed to feel like we were getting something out of the
chore. Kind of like when the car dealership gives you free oil changes for 2
years. "You just spent $30,000 with us so here's a few oil changes".
You walk away feeling like you beat them and got the better end of the deal. We
knew we were not going to get paid or awarded ice cream for doing the
assignment, but it's always nice to feel like you're going to get something out
of it-regardless if you actually do. In hindsight, these chores gave us tons of
stories. When it comes to my brothers Michael and Jimmy, all I got left is
stories.
pile of wood in order to age the stack evenly. Let me guess, you have no clue
what I am saying right? It's when you
have a long and tall pile of firewood and you take the wood on the bottom and
put it on top and then take the wood on the top and put it on the bottom. This
way, the pile ages and dries evenly. Not too dry and not too green when it
burns. For my dad, who often referred to himself as his comic book avenger name
"Captain Furnace" (he made us do this as well), this was important in
the house heating process. Too much of each, dry or green, can eventually cause
issues with your furnace. I'm guessing you never had to do this? I'm betting that it’s not that important in
the grand scheme of things, but again, it built character and if it did that,
then it must be done!
how-we made a game out of it. Since we didn't own a wheelbarrow with an
inflated wheel, we would have to move this wood from one fence line to the
other by hand. The fences were about 40 yards from one another, so the process
went like this-take the wood from the top of one stack and put it on the bottom
of the newly created stack. You could always load your own arms up with wood
and carry your logs from pile to pile or you could make a game out of it and
that's just what we did.
after log into the cradle of the extended arms till the other kid started to
buckle and then you loaded two more really fast, just to push the "human
wheelbarrow" a little farther. The goal was to move as quickly as you
could, from stack to stack, before the load would fall out of your arms. Often,
like a Seeing Eye dog, we would have to guide each other during the 40 yard
trip because the stack was above the level of your head. This "game"
was a lot easier in the cold weather as warmer weather meant fire ant season.
Nothing made you move faster than realizing you had an armload of ants.
more logs. Yes, he was older and bigger than me, but that's not why he could
carry more wood. Michael had a "super power" that many never knew
about. As adults, we both grew to be
about 5'9", but if you measured him from middle finger tip to middle
finger tip, arms stretched out, Michael was 6'3". He was a human monkey!
When it comes to boxing and carrying wood, both things he was better than me
at, this length is very important. It also helped him hold things over our
heads when he was being a jerk. (C'mon Patty!
Can't you reach it?).
would be ready for a potential long winter. Yes, I grew up in Texas, so the
amount of wood burned by "Captain Furnace" was not close to what
people do in northern Michigan, but this was the only fuel we had when it came
to heating our house for the winter.
character"? As adults are we still
building character or do we feel, as a reward for surviving childhood, we have
paid all the appropriate dues? I am not
trying to be the old man shaking his fist at the young kids running on the lawn
or going too fast through the neighborhood, but are the kids these days getting
the opportunities to build character?
Are we pushing them in a way to make them stronger mentally and
physically? Are we asking them to
#Tryharder? Are we providing bonding opportunities that require them to come up
with a creative way of making the time go by as a team (while still
accomplishing the task)? Are we giving our kids or the next generation a pass
because we are wanting them to have it better, but robbing them of the
knowledge and experience that comes with the journey? I know, a lot of questions to consider.
character" to get us to feel like we were gaining something in exchange
for accomplishing these tasks, we did put forth the effort to attack the chore. We knew we were building something, but maybe
didn’t quite yet have the maturity to actualize what that exactly was yet.
Other phrases like "it will put hair on your chest" would probably
accomplish the same thing, because what young boys don't want hair on their
chest? Yet, my parents were wise enough
to know that a hairy chest would not have motivated my sister the same way.
This was very forward thinking of them don't you think?
the early millennials today want to see the benefit or reward before they even
start the task. They want to be assured that they are not being
"tricked" into knowledge and want a copy of the test before they
start to study. "Tell ya what, gimme the Cliff notes and maybe I'll read
the book". They want to learn, but
they want a guarantee. In some ways they
are wiser than us, but I think for the most part they might be missing the
whole point.
before I was forced to experience the journey. Honestly, what's the fun in that? You have to actually stack the
logs before you learn how many you can carry. You have to experience the
"load" of life before you learn how much you can take.
reason why, just the thought of the number makes me wince a bit. When I was
young, this was a number that you associated with the people you would consider
to be old. This was the age that people started to become "out of
touch". This was the number that you would tether to the phrase "midlife
crisis". This is the age my brother
was when he died.
sort of earned knowledge. At this age you should have at least leaned something
that you could pass along to the next generation. This is the age you start to
ignite any feelings of urgency towards any of your unfinished business or
goals. The age where many start to doubt their place in this world and look to
do something drastic that alters their current course. All in all, it's just another number, but
it's very Irish of me to apply additional gravity to it because it brings me
one year closer to meeting my maker, yet at the same time, we celebrate.
my first 40 years and I'll share a few with you.
Don't give a shit if others don't feel the same way about these passions of
yours. Your friends are your friends. Your oddities are your oddities. You don't
need the validation of others in order for these things to be cool; these are
your passions. Don't harshly criticize the passions of others. As long as these
things aren't commonly considered terrible for you, they are ok to love. If you
go a whole day without telling or showing someone that you love them, then you
need to make changes in your life because you are missing out.
to be kind. Extend kindness whenever and wherever you can. You are never truly too busy to help. Often
thinking you are busy is a sign of laziness and you should never let your lack
of effort get in the way of doing the right thing.
and how you act. Also, don't allow your behavior to be something that others
need to make excuses for.
your energy and doesn't allow you to focus on the bigger and more important
things in life. Apply the proper amount of "shit" to each thing in
life.
people and don't be afraid to cut loose the cancerous people in your life. They
will eventually find their own people, so don't feel too guilty about their
loneliness.
that is how you lived your life. No amount of education or time in the chair
allows you to be an expert at anything else.
Don't be a pompous know it all. Also, don't be so thick that you forget
to remember to learn something new. Stop talking and let the world teach you
things. It's hard, I know. You're never too young to learn new things or admit
you are wrong.
Embrace it. We are all the black sheep.
always works out the way it should and no amount of swimming against the tide
will prevent it. At the same time, don’t be so lax that they tide carries you
out to sea.
party that you try to throw for yourself, deep down inside you have it good and
it's important to acknowledge that. As I always tell my kids "NOBODY has
more fun than us".
ways people tell you to live it to the fullest, we will all choose to squander
much of it doing silly mindless things and that's ok. Just eventually make an
effort to Pull the Trigger on the items on your bucket list. Climbing a mountain when you are 50 is easier
to do than when you are 80.
in other aspects of your life. Trust me, you have the energy and the time.
Anyone who says they are too busy in life are liars and by saying that, it's
actually a sign of laziness.
yourself about being something you are not. If you are not who you want to be,
then become who you want to be. No amount of addiction or roadblocks should
prevent you from doing this. Be as good of a person as you are honestly capable
of being. Do not set lofty expectations that you are not capable of living up
to. Certainly push yourself, but understand that you will never be the Pope if
you only go to church on holidays.
can't be silly. I believe in myself and because of that, I have the confidence
to unplug for a week at Disney and act like my kids-Mickey ears and all!
them to your level, they will always drag you to theirs.
loser. Don't keep score, but always try to be the one giving more.
is going to punch you and punch you hard. Let it influence you, but don't let
is negatively scar you. Being jaded is no way to live life.
isn't a life event that I can't make a joke about. Why shouldn't we? It's not deflection or avoidance, it's
levity. In life, levity is very important.
to tip toe around everyone's feelings or others have to tip toe around you,
then you are too sensitive. Toughen up. Others need to do the same. Super
sensitive people get their feelings hurt too easily and because of that, they
have few friends. In life, punches shouldn't have to be pulled.
often we get caught up and emotionally charged only to whip ourselves into an
unnecessary frenzy.
that you don't have. Turn around and take a look at where you came from and
what you've brought to the world. It's not about the 10lbs you want to lose,
it's about the 10lbs you already lost.
Try to focus on what if, the soon to come and what you have. Be humble,
but celebrate with amazing swagger.
1990. He became the first person to ever do this and it changed the world's
perception of "Iron" Mike Tyson.
Tyson's previously untarnished 37-0 record came to an end. He became
mortal in the eyes of the public and it really was a turning point in his
fighting career. Buster, on the other hand, is merely a Jeopardy question these
days as he never went on to becoming a great champion. He was remarkable once.
He had an amazing punch, once.
write or sing one hit record and you can live off the royalties for the rest of
your life. They may release 42 other albums and never have another hit, but
they were remarkable once. Somewhere, in some city, there is a radio station
doing a one hit wonders weekend and those bands are collecting rent money
royalties because of it.
It's not always a series of successes or victories. Becoming
"legendary" requires you to do one great thing at least one time. To
defeat the naysayers, to slay Goliath, to accomplish something sizable and do
it in such a way that people are forced to take notice; like writing the world’s
most catchiest song. (Insert lyrics to "Achy Breaky Heart" here).
one thing that makes you "legendary". If you have to think about it
too hard, that means that your moment in the sun passed quickly or you are
still waiting for your big moment to happen.
Maybe a little of both? At least when Douglass floored Tyson, he did it
on a huge public stage and in doing that became a household name-at least in
the 90s. He never had to fight anyone ever again. (He did however and lost). His ego will forever be fed by the story of
the one time he defeated the scariest man in boxing.
stories told about you over and over again. Trust me, I know this from personal
experience with the passing of my brother Michael. Although there are 1000s of
great stories about him, people continue to tell the same ones back to me. I
actually love it when they do, because each has an interpretation of their own
and frankly I love hearing and feeling the love in those stories. Deep down
inside, I do feel it's my job to share my stories and those about my brother
with the world and I often do this through my blogs. They need to be shared,
but mostly I do this so they never die. They live on. As his daughter gets
older, she will need to know more about her dad and my archiving will help in
the sharing of those stories. I too will get older and because of that memories
may fade-so it’s important to journal them.
to leave, all others will really have of you will be your stories. As we get older,
our memories tend to fade and dementia kicks in, so it becomes important that
we share what we have with the world while we can. The stories about us will
live longer than our bodies will allow us.
and not based on something unproductive or negative. Don't let the biggest
thing about you be something others can watch on an episode of Cops. "Look
Ma, there's Cousin Billy and his meth lab!
Why is he running? We should be
recording this"!!
the stories of the life and times of Cousin Billy the meth dealer, but I think it’s
better that the accounts of your life are based on healthy and positive moments
don't you?
to ensure that the legend of you is worth telling. You don't have to beat the
heavyweight champion of the world or write a song that becomes an anthem, but
your contributions to this world should be as grand as you are capable of
making the. By grand, they don't need to be played out on a stage, but they
should influence the people and the lives you are a part of.
legacy and the legend of you live on. Ensure that those you leave behind will
be able to tell beautiful and amazing stories about your life and
contributions; because after we die, all others have to cling to are those
stories.
story. He had this unique ability where he could tell you the same story three
times, change the ending each time and you believed (or at least wanted to
believe) that each version was true. It truly was a remarkable talent.
where he was going to take us in the end; knowing we had just heard this same
story 3 days ago. You wanted to believe it because he did such a great job of
providing the visuals for the storyline.
He spoke in a matter of fact way, his punchlines were tight and the
endings were so epic that they just had to be true.
stole a truck, ran from the cops, erased the serial numbers and repainted it so
nobody could ever discover it was stolen. Yet, he didn't have a vehicle at
college and when his brother came to visit, he drove a different truck than the
one in the picture he showed us. Yes, he actually had a picture of the truck he
supposedly stole. Yes, we knew it was a lie, but the story was amazing, so we
just went with it. You had to give him
credit for being so dedicated to the lie that he had a picture of the truck in
his wallet.
one of the hottest girls in the city. This girl was a 10! She never denied it or spoke of it and
because we were too afraid to ask her; we had to assume the story was real. How
they met, where it happened and what he said to get her to say yes...His
details were amazing and graphic! Who
could make this stuff up!?! He could.
There is no way he pulled that girl, but the story is now college legend, so it
has to be true.
and, for some reason, he was always scheduled for 8am classes. His advisers at
school didn't seem to have his best interest in mind. Sleeping past 10am was a
regular thing for him and since I was a sophomore, when all my roommates were
freshman, and as the room elder it somehow became my job to wake him up in the
morning so he wouldn't miss class. At some point his mother pulled me aside
during a visit and asked me to please help her son wake up. I did everything I
could.
were either turned off or left running for a minute or so; I would then bang on
the door till he answered. Yes, this kid could sleep through four alarms and a
door banging. Sleep was more important
than school and that's why school asked him to leave after only one year. Sadly
his over the top story telling ability wasn't enough to keep him enrolled.
to be able to contribute in multiple areas of life. I always joke about being
average at pretty much everything and because I have limited skills in multiple
areas of my life, it gives others the perception that I am somewhat
"worldly". I got a music
scholarship before I learned to read music. I got my wife to think I was
interesting and entertaining enough to go out with. The truth is that I am
curious about many things and because I #Tryharder to be a focused listener
of people that are passionate about their skills and hobbies, I take in a
working knowledge of things that I have never personally done.
things I have looked up in an effort to gain knowledge. Yes, there are also
things I have googled that I am not proud of and those are the things I erase
from my history. Trust me, if I get hit by a bus tomorrow, I don't want my wife
to see things like "Asian college girls with big boobs" in my search
history. Those things get erased. Don't judge.
contribute to a conversation or business meeting. I never want to be without a learning
opportunity or a fable that I can't site as an example of a life lesson for my
children. Every story I digest in my
life is a brick in my wall of education and future contributions. Unlike my
college friend that spun tall tale after tall tale, I want my knowledge to be
based on believed truths and lessons learned. I also want to share that
information with others and assist them in becoming more informed and equipped in
life. I want to contribute and matter till the day I pass. I want to leave a
lasting impression and have others remember the stories I shared. That's why I
take the extra steps in putting my stories and life into blogs and later a
book. That's why I haven't slept passed 7am in 20+ years.
He never had a fear of missing out or a curiosity for what the world had to
offer once he opened his eyes and turned off the alarms. He was satisfied with
telling exaggerated versions of amazing stories that supposedly happened at
some point in his past and that is why he never flourished at the collegiate
level. His past was more exciting than he perceived his future to be and the
way I see it, nobody can move forward in life without the desire to embrace
what's ahead and what could be.
curious life.