“Taking what you love to do and making a profession out of it is so much better than just working to make a living.” - Terry Finley, owner, West Point Thoroughbreds
What do you love to do?
Monday, January 30, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
YMCA Superfans Inspired By Short, Smith, Witzig
NORMAL, IL (AP) -
Modeling the type of teamwork normally seen only by heroes in times of national crisis, the gray YMCA team overcame the yellow team in a heartwarming matchup of little men.
The game was cast in a tender light during pre-game ceremonies which honored four local youths afflicted with teenageritis, and trying to turn their lives around with the help of the Normal Community High School Ironmen after school program. The superfans sat along the far wall and smiled from ear to ear throughout.
As bench coach Dave Witzig supervised the action from along the wall in his trademark Bears ball cap and orange sweatshirt, the game action was neck-and-neck early as #6 Alex Smith led the grays on the fast break.
Modeling the type of teamwork normally seen only by heroes in times of national crisis, the gray YMCA team overcame the yellow team in a heartwarming matchup of little men.
The game was cast in a tender light during pre-game ceremonies which honored four local youths afflicted with teenageritis, and trying to turn their lives around with the help of the Normal Community High School Ironmen after school program. The superfans sat along the far wall and smiled from ear to ear throughout.
 |
| Superfans Alex Prus, Kyle Sosa, Tyler Seibring, and Ben Wylde |
As bench coach Dave Witzig supervised the action from along the wall in his trademark Bears ball cap and orange sweatshirt, the game action was neck-and-neck early as #6 Alex Smith led the grays on the fast break.
As the grays got on the scoreboard, scrappy guard #9 Brendan Short got into the scrum defensively, inspired by the echo of his father's teachings in his head, almost as if it were bouncing off the walls.
Not even the repeated resetting of the scoreboard could melt the resolve of Short's rabid defense, harassing the yellows into turnover after turnover with active hands and lightning feet.
Eventually the grays pulled away by a comfortable margin, with guard/center #11 Ben Witzig having his way on the offensive end of the floor, igniting deafening roars from the crowd.
Coach Witzig was touched by the team's performance in dedication to the troubled youths.
"Alex, Benny and Brendan did a great job for us today," a red-eyed Witzig said while wiping a tear. "Hopefully it gives hope to these young fans that they can overcome their condition and have successful lives."
Certifiably Employed
I passed the certification tests to become listed on the Wyzant tutoring site:
http://www.wyzant.com/Tutors/IL/Normal/7905801/
I added it to the list of Places I Go on Hidden Blog.
I'm deemed proficient in pre-algebra and algebra (1 and 2).
Is $30/hr a deal or a steal? We'll see. For now, it's just fun to hang a virtual sign in the window as being open for business.
http://www.wyzant.com/Tutors/IL/Normal/7905801/
I added it to the list of Places I Go on Hidden Blog.
I'm deemed proficient in pre-algebra and algebra (1 and 2).
Is $30/hr a deal or a steal? We'll see. For now, it's just fun to hang a virtual sign in the window as being open for business.
Friday, January 27, 2012
5 Reasons To Drink Water
Drink up! From Yahoo! Health:
Of all the food and beverage choices you face every day, what's calorie-free, virtually cost-free, and, oh yes, essential to keeping you alive? Plain ol' water. But those aren't the only reasons to drink it.
"Water drives basic body performance," says Beth Reardon, director of nutrition for Duke Integrative Medicine, part of the Duke University Health System. "All of the systems in the body require water for proper functioning, and so do 90 percent of all chemical reactions in the body."
Here are the top five reasons to quench your thirst with water.
1. It will help you de-stress.
Why: Being sure to sip water throughout a stressful day can soothe stress-induced symptoms as diverse as headaches, tense muscles, fuzzy thinking, a pounding heart, and low energy. That's because stress taxes all your basic body systems -- and when you're dehydrated, the effects are magnified.
Given that more than half your body weight is water, Reardon says, "just a 2-percent reduction in hydration has a dramatic impact on energy levels and cognitive function." And dehydration further raises levels of cortisol -- the "stress hormone."
Water won't wash your stressors away. But it can provide you with more energy, ease tension, slow breathing, and reduce the strain on your heart.
Water-drinking tip: "Eight by eight -- eight 8-ounce glasses a day -- is a good general rule of thumb," Reardon says, "but it's a myth that's the magic amount for everyone, because there are so many variables." The "right" amount for you depends on factors including your age, your activity level, your health level, medications you're taking, and the weather. So how do you know if you're drinking enough? Follow your thirst, and know that you're on the right track if you have straw-colored urine, Reardon says.
2. You'll lose weight.
Why: In a 2010 study of adults aged 55 to 75, drinking two 8-ounce glasses of water before meals was associated with almost four pounds more weight loss in 12 weeks than in a control group who ate a similar diet but didn't have the pre-meal H20. Participants drank an average of 1.5 cups of water a day before the study.
In part, the Virginia Tech researchers say, water is filling, so you feel fuller and eat less. An earlier study found those who drink water before meals consume an average of 75 fewer calories per meal. (Make that twice a day over a year, and that could add up to 14 pounds!) The Virginia Tech scientists also believe the water drinkers began swapping this zero-calorie beverage for sodas and other caloric beverages.
What's more, when you're well hydrated, your body is working closer to maximum efficiency -- enhancing aspects of weight loss, like digestion and muscle function, when you exercise.
Water-drinking tip: For variety's sake, try flavoring your water. Drop some fruit into a pitcher and let it sit a few minutes -- lemons, oranges, watermelon, and berries all work well. Or let an herbal or flavored green tea bag steep in unheated water to accent the taste.
3. You'll be less apt to get sick.
Why: Hydration keeps your mucus membranes in top working order -- they're gatekeepers to the natural defense system that helps keep out germs such as cold and flu viruses. When these tissues dry out, germs can more easily penetrate to the nasopharynx, where the nasal passages and mouth meet. And if you catch a bug anyway, the severity of your illness is more likely to be lower if you've been drinking a lot of water.
Water is an especially smart health move when you're traveling. Most commercial planes fly at elevations between 30,000 and 35,000 feet, where humidity is 10 percent or lower. That means you're breathing dry air in a tight space filled with germs from dozens of people. Water keeps your mucus membranes moist -- and your defenses high -- even in that challenging situation.
Water-drinking tip: Bring an empty water bottle with you to the airport that you can fill for free once you're past security. Or buy the biggest bottle you can right before you board, and aim to finish it by flight's end. Don't hesitate to ask the flight attendant for refills while you're in the air.
4. You'll be more comfortable.
Why: It doesn't matter if the water you sip is hot or ice-cold. The act of drinking it will keep you warmer on a cold day -- and cool you off on a hot one.
"Your internal thermostat works better when you're well hydrated," Duke nutritionist Beth Reardon says. "Water helps regulate body temperature."
The body's temperature-regulating system, governed by the hypothalamus in the brain, is constantly picking up information that allows it to make adjustments to maintain a fairly steady core temperature. Hot sun? You'll sweat to cool down. Hatless in snow? The hypothalamus will know you're losing heat through your head and work to produce extra energy, such as shivering.
But these mechanisms work less well if you're dehydrated – and dehydration is a common risk for people of all ages, in winter as well as summer. In cold weather, for example, you lose water vapor through your breath. And many people tend to drink less water in cold weather because they don't think they need it as much as on hot, sunny days.
Water-drinking tip: Start by swapping out one soda, cup of coffee, or high-calorie hot chocolate a day with an equal amount of water. Carry a bottle of water with you all day long as a visual reminder to pause and sip. Sip more when you're physically active, whether in water, snow, or any weather condition.
5. It will help regulate your blood pressure.
Why: In 2010, the American Red Cross discovered that when blood donors were given 16 ounces of water to drink before giving blood, there was a 20 percent drop in fainting after the procedure. That was an important finding for them, given that many of those who faint then chalk blood donation up as a bad experience and never return to give again.
It's not entirely clear what mechanism is at work. But the Red Cross was inspired to conduct a study after researchers at Vanderbilt University noticed that drinking water activated the parasympathetic nervous system -- related to the "fight or flight" system that makes you more alert, elevates blood pressure momentarily, and boosts energy. Fainting after donating blood is often connected to a drop in blood pressure, and they theorized that the water would counter that effect.
(Not drinking enough water on a regular basis can also raise blood pressure. That's because dehydration causes blood vessels to constrict as the body strives to conserve water that it loses through perspiration, urination, and breathing. When blood vessels constrict, however, the heart pumps harder, bringing blood pressure up.)
Water-drinking tip: Start your day with a glass of water for a simple energy boost that remedies any dehydration that may have occurred overnight. Keep a filled glass or bottle on your nightstand or an empty one next to the bathroom sink.
Of all the food and beverage choices you face every day, what's calorie-free, virtually cost-free, and, oh yes, essential to keeping you alive? Plain ol' water. But those aren't the only reasons to drink it.
"Water drives basic body performance," says Beth Reardon, director of nutrition for Duke Integrative Medicine, part of the Duke University Health System. "All of the systems in the body require water for proper functioning, and so do 90 percent of all chemical reactions in the body."
Here are the top five reasons to quench your thirst with water.
1. It will help you de-stress.
Why: Being sure to sip water throughout a stressful day can soothe stress-induced symptoms as diverse as headaches, tense muscles, fuzzy thinking, a pounding heart, and low energy. That's because stress taxes all your basic body systems -- and when you're dehydrated, the effects are magnified.
Given that more than half your body weight is water, Reardon says, "just a 2-percent reduction in hydration has a dramatic impact on energy levels and cognitive function." And dehydration further raises levels of cortisol -- the "stress hormone."
Water won't wash your stressors away. But it can provide you with more energy, ease tension, slow breathing, and reduce the strain on your heart.
Water-drinking tip: "Eight by eight -- eight 8-ounce glasses a day -- is a good general rule of thumb," Reardon says, "but it's a myth that's the magic amount for everyone, because there are so many variables." The "right" amount for you depends on factors including your age, your activity level, your health level, medications you're taking, and the weather. So how do you know if you're drinking enough? Follow your thirst, and know that you're on the right track if you have straw-colored urine, Reardon says.
2. You'll lose weight.
Why: In a 2010 study of adults aged 55 to 75, drinking two 8-ounce glasses of water before meals was associated with almost four pounds more weight loss in 12 weeks than in a control group who ate a similar diet but didn't have the pre-meal H20. Participants drank an average of 1.5 cups of water a day before the study.
In part, the Virginia Tech researchers say, water is filling, so you feel fuller and eat less. An earlier study found those who drink water before meals consume an average of 75 fewer calories per meal. (Make that twice a day over a year, and that could add up to 14 pounds!) The Virginia Tech scientists also believe the water drinkers began swapping this zero-calorie beverage for sodas and other caloric beverages.
What's more, when you're well hydrated, your body is working closer to maximum efficiency -- enhancing aspects of weight loss, like digestion and muscle function, when you exercise.
Water-drinking tip: For variety's sake, try flavoring your water. Drop some fruit into a pitcher and let it sit a few minutes -- lemons, oranges, watermelon, and berries all work well. Or let an herbal or flavored green tea bag steep in unheated water to accent the taste.
3. You'll be less apt to get sick.
Why: Hydration keeps your mucus membranes in top working order -- they're gatekeepers to the natural defense system that helps keep out germs such as cold and flu viruses. When these tissues dry out, germs can more easily penetrate to the nasopharynx, where the nasal passages and mouth meet. And if you catch a bug anyway, the severity of your illness is more likely to be lower if you've been drinking a lot of water.
Water is an especially smart health move when you're traveling. Most commercial planes fly at elevations between 30,000 and 35,000 feet, where humidity is 10 percent or lower. That means you're breathing dry air in a tight space filled with germs from dozens of people. Water keeps your mucus membranes moist -- and your defenses high -- even in that challenging situation.
Water-drinking tip: Bring an empty water bottle with you to the airport that you can fill for free once you're past security. Or buy the biggest bottle you can right before you board, and aim to finish it by flight's end. Don't hesitate to ask the flight attendant for refills while you're in the air.
4. You'll be more comfortable.
Why: It doesn't matter if the water you sip is hot or ice-cold. The act of drinking it will keep you warmer on a cold day -- and cool you off on a hot one.
"Your internal thermostat works better when you're well hydrated," Duke nutritionist Beth Reardon says. "Water helps regulate body temperature."
The body's temperature-regulating system, governed by the hypothalamus in the brain, is constantly picking up information that allows it to make adjustments to maintain a fairly steady core temperature. Hot sun? You'll sweat to cool down. Hatless in snow? The hypothalamus will know you're losing heat through your head and work to produce extra energy, such as shivering.
But these mechanisms work less well if you're dehydrated – and dehydration is a common risk for people of all ages, in winter as well as summer. In cold weather, for example, you lose water vapor through your breath. And many people tend to drink less water in cold weather because they don't think they need it as much as on hot, sunny days.
Water-drinking tip: Start by swapping out one soda, cup of coffee, or high-calorie hot chocolate a day with an equal amount of water. Carry a bottle of water with you all day long as a visual reminder to pause and sip. Sip more when you're physically active, whether in water, snow, or any weather condition.
5. It will help regulate your blood pressure.
Why: In 2010, the American Red Cross discovered that when blood donors were given 16 ounces of water to drink before giving blood, there was a 20 percent drop in fainting after the procedure. That was an important finding for them, given that many of those who faint then chalk blood donation up as a bad experience and never return to give again.
It's not entirely clear what mechanism is at work. But the Red Cross was inspired to conduct a study after researchers at Vanderbilt University noticed that drinking water activated the parasympathetic nervous system -- related to the "fight or flight" system that makes you more alert, elevates blood pressure momentarily, and boosts energy. Fainting after donating blood is often connected to a drop in blood pressure, and they theorized that the water would counter that effect.
(Not drinking enough water on a regular basis can also raise blood pressure. That's because dehydration causes blood vessels to constrict as the body strives to conserve water that it loses through perspiration, urination, and breathing. When blood vessels constrict, however, the heart pumps harder, bringing blood pressure up.)
Water-drinking tip: Start your day with a glass of water for a simple energy boost that remedies any dehydration that may have occurred overnight. Keep a filled glass or bottle on your nightstand or an empty one next to the bathroom sink.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Dr. Friendly On Meeting Etiquette
Dr. Friendly is a non-certified medical amateur, whose advice column appears exclusively in Hidden Blog.
Dr. Friendly,
My boss is telling another one of his lame jokes in our staff meeting. Honestly, I think he has these meetings just to make himself feel popular. How do I tell him this?
Bored Meeting
-----
Bored,
Wait - you're in a meeting right now and texting me while your boss is talking? You could do worse for your career, but only if you hit him over the head with a watermelon. Go to his office after the meeting and tell him how much you like his jokes. I'm sure they're funnier than anything the staff at the unemployment office would say.
Dr. Friendly,
My boss is telling another one of his lame jokes in our staff meeting. Honestly, I think he has these meetings just to make himself feel popular. How do I tell him this?
Bored Meeting
-----
Bored,
Wait - you're in a meeting right now and texting me while your boss is talking? You could do worse for your career, but only if you hit him over the head with a watermelon. Go to his office after the meeting and tell him how much you like his jokes. I'm sure they're funnier than anything the staff at the unemployment office would say.
Words To Smile By
Out of the clear blue, someone sent me this note. :)
Thank you for being a model of positive thinking, appreciation, patience, tolerance and generosity. Your influence helps me be a better person, or at least better recognize the kind of person I would like to be. Whether it's taking the time to have lunch with me or updating your blog, the stories you share and the life you lead are inspiring. It's a privilege to be your friend/mentee.
Thank you for being a model of positive thinking, appreciation, patience, tolerance and generosity. Your influence helps me be a better person, or at least better recognize the kind of person I would like to be. Whether it's taking the time to have lunch with me or updating your blog, the stories you share and the life you lead are inspiring. It's a privilege to be your friend/mentee.
Handy Thinking
Yesterday I realized that I was walking to my car with cold hands. Cold hands that were carrying my gloves. Yes, carrying them, not wearing them.
Well, you see, I was holding something in my right hand. It would've been a nuisance to have to stop walking, set the thing down, put on the gloves, and pick up the thing again. It would only have taken ten seconds to do this, and spared me three minutes of chilled fingers. But I'd made an excuse for trading a small inconvenience for a bigger one.
Where else does this happen? Is it the inconvenience of a short travel to get to the gym? Of asking a tough question, because of the risk? To forgive, because we feel dissed? To accept change gracefully, because of the unknown?
We are on a good path. And often a better one, if we counsel our mind instead of our emotions.
Well, you see, I was holding something in my right hand. It would've been a nuisance to have to stop walking, set the thing down, put on the gloves, and pick up the thing again. It would only have taken ten seconds to do this, and spared me three minutes of chilled fingers. But I'd made an excuse for trading a small inconvenience for a bigger one.
Where else does this happen? Is it the inconvenience of a short travel to get to the gym? Of asking a tough question, because of the risk? To forgive, because we feel dissed? To accept change gracefully, because of the unknown?
We are on a good path. And often a better one, if we counsel our mind instead of our emotions.
Past Time
"Forget the past. No one becomes successful in the past."
Regret of the past and fear of the future are two of the biggest energy suckers there are.
Don't do it.
Learn as you go. Plan and dream for the future. Savor today. A simple recipe for success.
Regret of the past and fear of the future are two of the biggest energy suckers there are.
Don't do it.
Learn as you go. Plan and dream for the future. Savor today. A simple recipe for success.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Dr. Friendly On Sour Squeezings
Dr. Friendly is a non-certified medical amateur, whose advice column appears exclusively in Hidden Blog.
Dr. Friendly,
Over lunch yesterday I was putting lemon in my tea, and some juice squirted into my wife's eye. How is this my fault? No one can predict these things. They've got a mind of their own. What, I'm supposed to stop drinking tea?
Sour Husband
-----
Sour,
Next time, just shield the lemon with your hand while you squeeze. If you need two hands to squeeze a lemon, then hit the weight room. Or I'm sure your wife could manage it.
Dr. Friendly,
Over lunch yesterday I was putting lemon in my tea, and some juice squirted into my wife's eye. How is this my fault? No one can predict these things. They've got a mind of their own. What, I'm supposed to stop drinking tea?
Sour Husband
-----
Sour,
Next time, just shield the lemon with your hand while you squeeze. If you need two hands to squeeze a lemon, then hit the weight room. Or I'm sure your wife could manage it.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Lazy Days, Lengthening Days: The Week In Thanks
This week's essay in thankfulness starts, as it easily could every week, with Dena.
I'm grateful that she's the kind of wife who re-arranges the living room furniture to give some new perspective, because I rarely would. She asks my opinion before doing it, even though her artistic vision is vastly superior to mine. If I ever disagreed, I think that she might even listen to me.
When she asks if I'll help lug the awkward heavy furniture up the stairs, she asks if I'd be okay with doing it "within the next couple hours" instead of "now," even though I'm just sitting there uselessly playing video games. (So naturally I help her now... maybe I should also be thankful for her brilliant psychological mind.)
She's the kind of person who rearranges her schedule so that she can have her hair done an hour away in Peoria. Why? Because when she lived much closer to Peoria, her cousin cut her hair. She's more loyal than Tonto, I tell you.
Hidden Bloggers notice that Ryan Short won his 200th basketball game this weekend. He could probably head coach a team of monkeys to 200 wins. He's the most brilliant guy in the room, and yet the most considerate as well. Including that he gives me about three times as much respect for my opinions as a coach than I'm worth. How do I end up surrounded by such loyal role models?
We are already a full month past the winter solstice. The sun's not setting until 5:00 now. Spring training begins in less than a month. Daylight savings time is less than two months away.
An especially haphazard project at work has been postponed. For the moment it looks as if we'll get our remaining 2012 projects done with good quality. Is it just a brief gap in the clouds of a rainy day? Who cares, live in the now whenever you can. And relatively speaking, things at work have been pretty bright. The experiment where I supervise new students has gotten off to a solid start. A good foundation considering that five more are coming on board by year end.
Did anyone catch the two dramatic football games this weekend? Dena and I did, in addition to snuggling on the couch for a good part of Saturday morning to watch a couple movies she'd grabbed, Moneyball and Courageous. So nice to have one of those lazy weekends. Which is probably why Hidden Bloggers also saw an uptick in posts over the weekend.
Our home is clean, comfortable, cozy, and paid for. It's a wonderful place to gaze out the window into frigid afternoon skies, while tucked warmly beneath a blanket on the couch (ok, a Snuggie).
Tonight I attended a kick-off meeting for Vacation Bible School, since I'll be serving as a skit guy again from June 18-21 at Calvary United Methodist Church. I could write another whole blog post about each of the ladies on this incredible leadership team. Organized, funny, caring, creative, flexible - and personal friends.
I'll die a happy man if life consists of a bunch of weeks like this one.
I'm grateful that she's the kind of wife who re-arranges the living room furniture to give some new perspective, because I rarely would. She asks my opinion before doing it, even though her artistic vision is vastly superior to mine. If I ever disagreed, I think that she might even listen to me.
When she asks if I'll help lug the awkward heavy furniture up the stairs, she asks if I'd be okay with doing it "within the next couple hours" instead of "now," even though I'm just sitting there uselessly playing video games. (So naturally I help her now... maybe I should also be thankful for her brilliant psychological mind.)
She's the kind of person who rearranges her schedule so that she can have her hair done an hour away in Peoria. Why? Because when she lived much closer to Peoria, her cousin cut her hair. She's more loyal than Tonto, I tell you.
Hidden Bloggers notice that Ryan Short won his 200th basketball game this weekend. He could probably head coach a team of monkeys to 200 wins. He's the most brilliant guy in the room, and yet the most considerate as well. Including that he gives me about three times as much respect for my opinions as a coach than I'm worth. How do I end up surrounded by such loyal role models?
We are already a full month past the winter solstice. The sun's not setting until 5:00 now. Spring training begins in less than a month. Daylight savings time is less than two months away.
An especially haphazard project at work has been postponed. For the moment it looks as if we'll get our remaining 2012 projects done with good quality. Is it just a brief gap in the clouds of a rainy day? Who cares, live in the now whenever you can. And relatively speaking, things at work have been pretty bright. The experiment where I supervise new students has gotten off to a solid start. A good foundation considering that five more are coming on board by year end.
Did anyone catch the two dramatic football games this weekend? Dena and I did, in addition to snuggling on the couch for a good part of Saturday morning to watch a couple movies she'd grabbed, Moneyball and Courageous. So nice to have one of those lazy weekends. Which is probably why Hidden Bloggers also saw an uptick in posts over the weekend.
Our home is clean, comfortable, cozy, and paid for. It's a wonderful place to gaze out the window into frigid afternoon skies, while tucked warmly beneath a blanket on the couch (ok, a Snuggie).
Tonight I attended a kick-off meeting for Vacation Bible School, since I'll be serving as a skit guy again from June 18-21 at Calvary United Methodist Church. I could write another whole blog post about each of the ladies on this incredible leadership team. Organized, funny, caring, creative, flexible - and personal friends.
I'll die a happy man if life consists of a bunch of weeks like this one.
Newt Or Schrute?
Which is Newt Gingrich circa 1970... and which is Dwight Schrute circa 2012?
Uncanny.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Dr. Friendly On Seating Women
Dr. Friendly is a non-certified medical amateur, whose advice column appears exclusively in Hidden Blog.
Dr. Friendly,
I was out on a first date and tried to be a gentleman by helping her sit down at the restaurant. I pushed the chair in as she squatted, and she gave me a dirty look. What did I do wrong?
The Pusher
Pusher,
The bruising on the backs of her knees is one indicator. When you hold the chair, just steady it as a guide, there's no need to shove. And when you talk with her about the incident... see if you can find another word to use than "squatting," would you?
Dr. Friendly,
I was out on a first date and tried to be a gentleman by helping her sit down at the restaurant. I pushed the chair in as she squatted, and she gave me a dirty look. What did I do wrong?
The Pusher
Pusher,
The bruising on the backs of her knees is one indicator. When you hold the chair, just steady it as a guide, there's no need to shove. And when you talk with her about the incident... see if you can find another word to use than "squatting," would you?
Joe Paterno Dead: Reflections On The Man And His Legacy
Courtesy of Dan Wetzel, Yahoo! Sports:
Truly great leaders are measured by the lives they reached, the people they motivated and the legacy of their lesson that can extend for years to come, like ripples from a skipped stone across an endless lake.
For Joe Paterno, the impact is incalculable, the people he connected with extending far beyond the players he coached for 62 years at Penn State, the last 46 as head football coach. Paterno always tried to be the giant who walked among the everyman both in the school’s greatest moments and, it turns out, in its worst.
Paterno died Sunday at a State College, Pa., hospital, suffering in his final days from lung cancer, broken bones and the fallout of a horrific scandal that not only cost him his job, but also his trademark vigor and a portion of his good name. He was 85 years old.
This is a complicated passing. What was once the most consistent and basic of messages – honor, ethics and education – seemingly lived out as close to its ideal as possible was rocked Nov. 5, 2011, when a grand jury indicted Paterno’s former defensive coordinator, Jerry Sandusky, of multiple counts of sexual abuse of children.
Many, including Penn State’s Board of Trustees, believed Paterno could have and should have done more to stop Sandusky, especially after allegations of misconduct arose in 2002. Within days Paterno was fired from the program and school to which he’d become synonymous.
Now, a little more than two months later, he’s gone for good, a bitter, brutal ending for an American original.
He was the winningest college football coach of all time, compiling a 409-136-3 record. He won national titles in 1982 and 1986 and recorded four other undefeated seasons, including consecutively in 1968 and 1969.
He was a bridge from a simpler time to the cutthroat business college football has become, somehow serving as both a progressive force (he believed in players’ rights, a playoff system and welcomed advancements in television) and a stubborn traditionalist (the Penn State uniforms remained basic, he never learned how to send a text message and he still used old-school discipline).
In 2007, when a group of his players got into a fight at a party, Paterno determined it would best if the entire team had to clean Beaver Stadium after home games. “I think that we need to prove to people that we’re not a bunch of hoodlums,” he said at the time.
That was Paterno at his best, this singular figure offering simple lessons. He was the rock. He was the constant. He was the conscious. He was JoePa, his nickname suggesting a fatherly quality to not just his players, not just Penn State students who could still find his number listed in the local phone book and not just Nittany Lions football fans.
He was a larger-than-life figure in the small, bucolic town of State College, and if you wanted to draw something good and decent from college football, well, here’s where you always could. Don’t worry, he’d still be there, as unchanged as ever.
He gave millions of dollars back to the school – the library is named after him and his wife, Sue. He raised millions more at speaking engagements across the country. He encouraged vibrant alumni to take incredible pride in their university, unusual for many state schools in the east. Yet he was still this guy out of Brooklyn, with a thick accent and even thicker glasses. He was humble. He was approachable.
It seemed, for anyone who wanted to believe, that he provided perspective amid the circus.
“We’re trying to win football games, don’t misunderstand that,” Paterno told Sports Illustrated’s Dan Jenkins in 1968, when he was just 41. “But I don’t want it to ruin our lives if we lose. I don’t want us ever to become the kind of place where an 8-2 season is a tragedy. Look at that day outside. It’s clear, it’s beautiful, the leaves are turning, the land is pretty and it’s quiet. If losing a game made me miserable, I couldn’t enjoy such a day.
“I tell the kids who come here to play, enjoy yourselves. There’s so much besides football. Art, history, literature, politics.”
That this attitude would come from the guy who would win the most games ever was part of the charm, as if Paterno was running a ruse on everyone chasing him all those crisp autumns. He was playing chess, they were getting check-mated.
No, the full truth never squares with these kinds of narratives. No, he wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t without fault or selfishness or vanity or difficult moods. He was close enough though. Sometimes, having someone to believe in is enough.
“You know what happens when you’re No. 1?” Paterno said more than 40 years ago to Jenkins.
“Nobody is happy until you’re No. 1 again and that might never happen again.”
It would happen again and again and again, actually.
In his final days, that wide-eyed optimist and aw-shucks success story was gone. The Sandusky scandal had sapped what no opponent ever could. He sat earlier this month at his kitchen table at his kitchen table with, not coincidentally, Sally Jenkins, the Washington Post columnist and Dan Jenkins’ daughter, for his last public words.
He’d lost his hair from chemotherapy. His breath was heavy. He sipped on a soda. “His voice sounded like wind blowing across a field of winter stalks, rattling the husks,” Sally Jenkins wrote.
He tried to explain how he hadn’t done more to stop Sandusky, how he hadn’t followed up thoroughly, how he hadn’t pressed university administrators for answers.
“I didn’t exactly know how to handle it … I backed away and turned it over to some other people, people I thought would have a little more expertise than I did. It didn’t work out that way.”
Some saw no need for him to explain himself again: He’d said much the same thing in a 2011 grand jury appearance. For others, there is no suitable explanation, boys were abused, the mistake too grave for excuses.
This will be forever the battle over Joe Paterno’s legacy. A life of soaring impact, of bedrock values, of generations and generations as a symbol of how to live life to its fullest.
The Sandusky case cracked that for some. Ended it. Not for all, though.
Paterno reached too many, taught too many, inspired too many. And for years and seasons, for decades and generations to come, those that drew from his wisdom will pass it on and on. That will be his most lasting legacy.
No, his worst day can’t be forgotten. Neither can all the beautiful ones that surrounded it.
Truly great leaders are measured by the lives they reached, the people they motivated and the legacy of their lesson that can extend for years to come, like ripples from a skipped stone across an endless lake.
For Joe Paterno, the impact is incalculable, the people he connected with extending far beyond the players he coached for 62 years at Penn State, the last 46 as head football coach. Paterno always tried to be the giant who walked among the everyman both in the school’s greatest moments and, it turns out, in its worst.
Joe Paterno died Sunday at a State College, Pa., hospital. He was 85.
(AP)
(AP)
Paterno died Sunday at a State College, Pa., hospital, suffering in his final days from lung cancer, broken bones and the fallout of a horrific scandal that not only cost him his job, but also his trademark vigor and a portion of his good name. He was 85 years old.
This is a complicated passing. What was once the most consistent and basic of messages – honor, ethics and education – seemingly lived out as close to its ideal as possible was rocked Nov. 5, 2011, when a grand jury indicted Paterno’s former defensive coordinator, Jerry Sandusky, of multiple counts of sexual abuse of children.
Many, including Penn State’s Board of Trustees, believed Paterno could have and should have done more to stop Sandusky, especially after allegations of misconduct arose in 2002. Within days Paterno was fired from the program and school to which he’d become synonymous.
Now, a little more than two months later, he’s gone for good, a bitter, brutal ending for an American original.
He was the winningest college football coach of all time, compiling a 409-136-3 record. He won national titles in 1982 and 1986 and recorded four other undefeated seasons, including consecutively in 1968 and 1969.
He was a bridge from a simpler time to the cutthroat business college football has become, somehow serving as both a progressive force (he believed in players’ rights, a playoff system and welcomed advancements in television) and a stubborn traditionalist (the Penn State uniforms remained basic, he never learned how to send a text message and he still used old-school discipline).
In 2007, when a group of his players got into a fight at a party, Paterno determined it would best if the entire team had to clean Beaver Stadium after home games. “I think that we need to prove to people that we’re not a bunch of hoodlums,” he said at the time.
That was Paterno at his best, this singular figure offering simple lessons. He was the rock. He was the constant. He was the conscious. He was JoePa, his nickname suggesting a fatherly quality to not just his players, not just Penn State students who could still find his number listed in the local phone book and not just Nittany Lions football fans.
He was a larger-than-life figure in the small, bucolic town of State College, and if you wanted to draw something good and decent from college football, well, here’s where you always could. Don’t worry, he’d still be there, as unchanged as ever.
He gave millions of dollars back to the school – the library is named after him and his wife, Sue. He raised millions more at speaking engagements across the country. He encouraged vibrant alumni to take incredible pride in their university, unusual for many state schools in the east. Yet he was still this guy out of Brooklyn, with a thick accent and even thicker glasses. He was humble. He was approachable.
It seemed, for anyone who wanted to believe, that he provided perspective amid the circus.
“We’re trying to win football games, don’t misunderstand that,” Paterno told Sports Illustrated’s Dan Jenkins in 1968, when he was just 41. “But I don’t want it to ruin our lives if we lose. I don’t want us ever to become the kind of place where an 8-2 season is a tragedy. Look at that day outside. It’s clear, it’s beautiful, the leaves are turning, the land is pretty and it’s quiet. If losing a game made me miserable, I couldn’t enjoy such a day.
“I tell the kids who come here to play, enjoy yourselves. There’s so much besides football. Art, history, literature, politics.”
That this attitude would come from the guy who would win the most games ever was part of the charm, as if Paterno was running a ruse on everyone chasing him all those crisp autumns. He was playing chess, they were getting check-mated.
No, the full truth never squares with these kinds of narratives. No, he wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t without fault or selfishness or vanity or difficult moods. He was close enough though. Sometimes, having someone to believe in is enough.
“You know what happens when you’re No. 1?” Paterno said more than 40 years ago to Jenkins.
“Nobody is happy until you’re No. 1 again and that might never happen again.”
It would happen again and again and again, actually.
In his final days, that wide-eyed optimist and aw-shucks success story was gone. The Sandusky scandal had sapped what no opponent ever could. He sat earlier this month at his kitchen table at his kitchen table with, not coincidentally, Sally Jenkins, the Washington Post columnist and Dan Jenkins’ daughter, for his last public words.
He’d lost his hair from chemotherapy. His breath was heavy. He sipped on a soda. “His voice sounded like wind blowing across a field of winter stalks, rattling the husks,” Sally Jenkins wrote.
He tried to explain how he hadn’t done more to stop Sandusky, how he hadn’t followed up thoroughly, how he hadn’t pressed university administrators for answers.
“I didn’t exactly know how to handle it … I backed away and turned it over to some other people, people I thought would have a little more expertise than I did. It didn’t work out that way.”
Some saw no need for him to explain himself again: He’d said much the same thing in a 2011 grand jury appearance. For others, there is no suitable explanation, boys were abused, the mistake too grave for excuses.
This will be forever the battle over Joe Paterno’s legacy. A life of soaring impact, of bedrock values, of generations and generations as a symbol of how to live life to its fullest.
The Sandusky case cracked that for some. Ended it. Not for all, though.
Paterno reached too many, taught too many, inspired too many. And for years and seasons, for decades and generations to come, those that drew from his wisdom will pass it on and on. That will be his most lasting legacy.
No, his worst day can’t be forgotten. Neither can all the beautiful ones that surrounded it.
The Purpose Of Life
A friend asked me this week if I'd blogged about finding my purpose.
I once read the book Purpose-Driven Life by Rick Warren. You'll find it an especially good read if you're Christian. It's meaningfully touched thousands and thousands who've tried it.
I think that the idea of purpose is subjective, meaning that if you ask several people you'll get several answers. Who determines our purpose? Ourselves? Or something bigger than ourselves?
I could say that my purpose it what I choose it to be. My destiny is in my hands. My purpose is by definition the end results that flow from the series of actions that I take between now and my last breath.
I could say instead that my purpose is known by my creator. That I was made thoughtfully and deliberately, with a palette of intentionally bestowed gifts, to be used to make a specific difference in the world. That I am called to discover that purpose and pour myself into it completely.
If it's true that we have a singular purpose, just like we have a singular time of death, I wonder if it is something that we really do want to know? Part of the adventure of life is the exploration, the journey. Many of my friends and family have changed jobs multiple times. I'm doing things today that I didn't dream of ten years ago.
Do I regret how I've spent my time? Has it been wasted at all? Would I be making the most of my life to find my best path and follow it?
I've come to believe that when I look back at my life, what I would regret more than anything is to have spent it unhappily. For most of it, although I've made big mistakes, I've done what I enjoyed.
I do think of God like a gardener, and us as flowers:
http://joemcdonald.blogspot.com/2010/08/gardener.html
Flowers grow best in the soil that's richest for them. "Perfect soil" is different for different flowers. The longer I live, the better I get at recognizing the soil that's best for me. Because I study myself, this body that God gave me.
What can you do energetically, with hours seeming like minutes?
What moments have brought tears of joy to your eyes?
What plans make it easy for you to get out of bed in the morning?
Whatever the answer is, do that.
Whatever strays from that answer, steer away.
That's what I think is a good purpose.
I once read the book Purpose-Driven Life by Rick Warren. You'll find it an especially good read if you're Christian. It's meaningfully touched thousands and thousands who've tried it.
I think that the idea of purpose is subjective, meaning that if you ask several people you'll get several answers. Who determines our purpose? Ourselves? Or something bigger than ourselves?
I could say that my purpose it what I choose it to be. My destiny is in my hands. My purpose is by definition the end results that flow from the series of actions that I take between now and my last breath.
I could say instead that my purpose is known by my creator. That I was made thoughtfully and deliberately, with a palette of intentionally bestowed gifts, to be used to make a specific difference in the world. That I am called to discover that purpose and pour myself into it completely.
If it's true that we have a singular purpose, just like we have a singular time of death, I wonder if it is something that we really do want to know? Part of the adventure of life is the exploration, the journey. Many of my friends and family have changed jobs multiple times. I'm doing things today that I didn't dream of ten years ago.
Do I regret how I've spent my time? Has it been wasted at all? Would I be making the most of my life to find my best path and follow it?
I've come to believe that when I look back at my life, what I would regret more than anything is to have spent it unhappily. For most of it, although I've made big mistakes, I've done what I enjoyed.
I do think of God like a gardener, and us as flowers:
http://joemcdonald.blogspot.com/2010/08/gardener.html
Flowers grow best in the soil that's richest for them. "Perfect soil" is different for different flowers. The longer I live, the better I get at recognizing the soil that's best for me. Because I study myself, this body that God gave me.
What can you do energetically, with hours seeming like minutes?
What moments have brought tears of joy to your eyes?
What plans make it easy for you to get out of bed in the morning?
Whatever the answer is, do that.
Whatever strays from that answer, steer away.
That's what I think is a good purpose.
Church Of One
This morning I awoke at 6:30.
The odds of my getting up that early on a weekend, the day after a couple basketball games, are slim.
And yet, as I lay in the inkiness, my mind was whirring with thoughts.
A puzzling problem from work was tumbling around like yesterday's laundry in the dryer.
At once some ideas, and then a solution, formed themselves. All before I could open my eyes!
Now I was up. Energized. Came downstairs not knowing quite what I'd do next, but soon found myself emptying the dishwasher, folding laundry, pitching trash. Thinking about blog posts.
Why does this happen?
I like to think this is how God communicates with me sometimes. I felt a rush of thankfulness for this burst of success. You never know how long or briefly it will last. As a fundamentally creative and introverted person, that might be why in these moments I feel more connected than in most of 30 years of corporate church attendance.
And so I took my guitar with a light heart, opened to some spiritual songs, and let loose joyfully.
The odds of my getting up that early on a weekend, the day after a couple basketball games, are slim.
And yet, as I lay in the inkiness, my mind was whirring with thoughts.
A puzzling problem from work was tumbling around like yesterday's laundry in the dryer.
At once some ideas, and then a solution, formed themselves. All before I could open my eyes!
Now I was up. Energized. Came downstairs not knowing quite what I'd do next, but soon found myself emptying the dishwasher, folding laundry, pitching trash. Thinking about blog posts.
Why does this happen?
I like to think this is how God communicates with me sometimes. I felt a rush of thankfulness for this burst of success. You never know how long or briefly it will last. As a fundamentally creative and introverted person, that might be why in these moments I feel more connected than in most of 30 years of corporate church attendance.
And so I took my guitar with a light heart, opened to some spiritual songs, and let loose joyfully.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Ryan Short Wins 200th Basketball Game
Congratulations to Ryan Short on winning his 200th basketball game tonight against Moline High School!
The Ironmen closed out a talented team in the fourth quarter, hanging tough after their opponents had rallied to tie.
May there be many more to come.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Happy 20th!
Hidden Bloggers know that the 20th is my favorite day of the month. Probably because it was my first.
It certainly helps that it's just before the 21st, like the first day of several new seasons and also my wedding anniversary.
And when it falls on a Friday, how can it go wrong?
Have a great one friends. Walk into work with a smile. And keep it there as often as you can 'til you go to bed. It'll make for a great night of sleep and a better tomorrow.
It certainly helps that it's just before the 21st, like the first day of several new seasons and also my wedding anniversary.
And when it falls on a Friday, how can it go wrong?
Have a great one friends. Walk into work with a smile. And keep it there as often as you can 'til you go to bed. It'll make for a great night of sleep and a better tomorrow.
Friday's One-Liner
(This one is more reflective than humorous, a good perspective to start the day...)
Why do we have so much enthusiasm for criticism and so much criticism for enthusiasm?
Why do we have so much enthusiasm for criticism and so much criticism for enthusiasm?
The Wonderful WyzAnt Of Ahs
This morning I took the next step in my tutoring career.
I enrolled as a math tutor at www.wyzant.com. (Note: I originally wrote "meth" tutor there, different career)
This will be my first time as an independent contractor, working on commission! 60% of my fee comes to me.
I discovered the site by Googling "bloomington normal math tutor."
It was easy to fill out. Seven short steps and now I have a bio, photo, and profile. It may take a couple days to go live.
It asked what rates I'd charge. Typically $35-$65. Couldn't bring myself to charge that much right off the bat though. $30 seemed about right for a guy without an education degree who's been at this on a volunteer basis for a couple semesters.
If felt a little dramatic as I pushed the button to agree to the legal terms and put myself "out there." Like there was a bungee cord around my ankles, but with much lower risk of converting my spine into a jigsaw puzzle.
My expectations are low. I advertised myself as a high school and college tutor. My time's limited during basketball season anyway. But I believe that an independent business is a multi-year plan, so the time is NOW to start laying the foundation and gaining experience, for better and worse.
Getting out of bed for this adventure was a piece of cake!
I enrolled as a math tutor at www.wyzant.com. (Note: I originally wrote "meth" tutor there, different career)
This will be my first time as an independent contractor, working on commission! 60% of my fee comes to me.
I discovered the site by Googling "bloomington normal math tutor."
It was easy to fill out. Seven short steps and now I have a bio, photo, and profile. It may take a couple days to go live.
It asked what rates I'd charge. Typically $35-$65. Couldn't bring myself to charge that much right off the bat though. $30 seemed about right for a guy without an education degree who's been at this on a volunteer basis for a couple semesters.
If felt a little dramatic as I pushed the button to agree to the legal terms and put myself "out there." Like there was a bungee cord around my ankles, but with much lower risk of converting my spine into a jigsaw puzzle.
My expectations are low. I advertised myself as a high school and college tutor. My time's limited during basketball season anyway. But I believe that an independent business is a multi-year plan, so the time is NOW to start laying the foundation and gaining experience, for better and worse.
Getting out of bed for this adventure was a piece of cake!
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Thursday's One-Liner
Why do people point at their wrists when they ask what time it is? I
know where my watch is! Do I point at my crotch when I ask where the
bathroom is?
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
(Tiny) Mission Accomplished
Postscript to this morning's entry - despite the temptation of several distractions, the in-box did go down. There were actually a couple of times where I asked myself "Why am I doing this? It gets me no closer to the goal." And just like that I was back on task.
Good day, happy drive home.
Good day, happy drive home.
RSA Animate - Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us
Does this apply to you in your work? Compliments of Aaron from the office:
Tiny Goals Are Great, Too
"Life without goals is like a race without a finish line." -Ed Trenner
Fortunately, because of human nature, I can set very small goals and still feel very good when I meet them. Today, I'd just like to leave work with fewer items in the in-box than when I walked in. Let's see what focus can do.
What's your tiny goal of the day?
Fortunately, because of human nature, I can set very small goals and still feel very good when I meet them. Today, I'd just like to leave work with fewer items in the in-box than when I walked in. Let's see what focus can do.
What's your tiny goal of the day?
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Who Needs A Party? The Week In Thanks
Basketball is thick in the blood this time of year. And yet, the whims of practice scheduling sometimes mean that my bond with the boys can't be what it was last couple of years. In the end, I'll miss more than 23 practices. This week would've been a week when I could attend exactly one practice on Wednesday. Then a fluke occurrence caused Wednesday's practice to be moved to a time that I couldn't attend.
Time for a pity party? Nope.
Because as it happened, a student of mine had a series of troubles of his own. He ended up falling several assignments behind in his work, and also losing his ride to the library. Tuesday night ended up not being enough time to complete it all. And it was due Thursday. So guess which night ended up being perfect to do a second session? The newly-available Wednesday evening. It felt like extra credit to offer to tutor him at his home since he had no ride.
So often things which appear to be misfortune turn out to be fortune. It's to the point where I can take more and more setbacks in stride, assuming that it's for a greater purpose, even though it's not always obvious what that is.
My three students all ended up passing their classes last semester, and they all asked if they could work with me again. Even though it's a free service for them, it's still a small sign of affirmation that I'm not causing them to get worse... and that's worth something, isn't it? In fact, a fourth student asked for help this week. Word of mouth rules.
The early results suggest that this is one of the better Christmas gift hauls I've received in years. I asked for some kind of warm dress socks to repel the bitter cold floor-temps of the basketball school bus road trips. Six hours of travel this weekend, and not once did the warmth of my feet even pass through my mind until I got home. Meanwhile, Dena's fancy leather jacket has allowed me to use my old winter jacket as a cold-weather running outfit, which I took full advantage of today.
This afternoon's run was at 3:30. Couldn't help but notice that the sun was still bright in the sky at 4:30. We're nearly a full month removed from the winter solstice, and we've already reached the point where we can see the sun on the way home from work. Gotta love it.
There was some project-related stress midway through the week, and I felt like I was pressing. Actually it was blatantly obvious since I found myself fuming about it. Some silly ideas passed through my head, and I was able to dismiss them until after having a good night's sleep. The next day, as is true a great deal of the time, the problem resolved itself.
The incident caused me to wonder how differently I and others would view everyday events if we knew that anger were fatal. I suppose that heart attack survivors could comment on this better than me. But if our survival absolutely depended upon finding a way to enjoy every wave with a smile, I'll bet we could do it. So why wait?
This week I get to supervise a new employee and help him get his career off on the right foot. This has been a gift of an opportunity, a highlight of the days to come.
Time for a pity party? Nope.
Because as it happened, a student of mine had a series of troubles of his own. He ended up falling several assignments behind in his work, and also losing his ride to the library. Tuesday night ended up not being enough time to complete it all. And it was due Thursday. So guess which night ended up being perfect to do a second session? The newly-available Wednesday evening. It felt like extra credit to offer to tutor him at his home since he had no ride.
So often things which appear to be misfortune turn out to be fortune. It's to the point where I can take more and more setbacks in stride, assuming that it's for a greater purpose, even though it's not always obvious what that is.
My three students all ended up passing their classes last semester, and they all asked if they could work with me again. Even though it's a free service for them, it's still a small sign of affirmation that I'm not causing them to get worse... and that's worth something, isn't it? In fact, a fourth student asked for help this week. Word of mouth rules.
The early results suggest that this is one of the better Christmas gift hauls I've received in years. I asked for some kind of warm dress socks to repel the bitter cold floor-temps of the basketball school bus road trips. Six hours of travel this weekend, and not once did the warmth of my feet even pass through my mind until I got home. Meanwhile, Dena's fancy leather jacket has allowed me to use my old winter jacket as a cold-weather running outfit, which I took full advantage of today.
This afternoon's run was at 3:30. Couldn't help but notice that the sun was still bright in the sky at 4:30. We're nearly a full month removed from the winter solstice, and we've already reached the point where we can see the sun on the way home from work. Gotta love it.
There was some project-related stress midway through the week, and I felt like I was pressing. Actually it was blatantly obvious since I found myself fuming about it. Some silly ideas passed through my head, and I was able to dismiss them until after having a good night's sleep. The next day, as is true a great deal of the time, the problem resolved itself.
The incident caused me to wonder how differently I and others would view everyday events if we knew that anger were fatal. I suppose that heart attack survivors could comment on this better than me. But if our survival absolutely depended upon finding a way to enjoy every wave with a smile, I'll bet we could do it. So why wait?
This week I get to supervise a new employee and help him get his career off on the right foot. This has been a gift of an opportunity, a highlight of the days to come.
How To Remove A Pimple
This would've come in handy 25 years ago. From Men's Health:
Don't try to squeeze your pimple into oblivion. That can cause scarring.
Soak a wash cloth in the hottest water your faucet can generate and apply pressure to the spot for 1 minute - the most hat should melt the sebum plugging your pores. Then apply 10 percent benzoyl peroxide cream, available over the counter, to kill bacteria and help dry out the site. Finally, cover your pimple with a spot bandage. This ensures that the benzoyl peroxide works all night. When you wake up, your blemish will be 50 to 75 percent healed if it's not gone altogether.
Don't try to squeeze your pimple into oblivion. That can cause scarring.
Soak a wash cloth in the hottest water your faucet can generate and apply pressure to the spot for 1 minute - the most hat should melt the sebum plugging your pores. Then apply 10 percent benzoyl peroxide cream, available over the counter, to kill bacteria and help dry out the site. Finally, cover your pimple with a spot bandage. This ensures that the benzoyl peroxide works all night. When you wake up, your blemish will be 50 to 75 percent healed if it's not gone altogether.
"I Believe In Tim Tebow"
By ESPN.com's Rick Reilly:
I've come to believe in Tim Tebow, but not for what he does on a football field, which is still three parts Dr. Jekyll and two parts Mr. Hyde.
No, I've come to believe in Tim Tebow for what he does off a football field, which is represent the best parts of us, the parts I want to be and so rarely am.
Who among us is this selfless?
Every week, Tebow picks out someone who is suffering, or who is dying, or who is injured. He flies these people and their families to the Broncos game, rents them a car, puts them up in a nice hotel, buys them dinner (usually at a Dave & Buster's), gets them and their families pregame passes, visits with them just before kickoff (!), gets them 30-yard-line tickets down low, visits with them after the game (sometimes for an hour), has them walk him to his car, and sends them off with a basket of gifts.
Home or road, win or lose, hero or goat.
Remember last week, when the world was pulling its hair out in the hour after Tebow had stunned the Pittsburgh Steelers with an 80-yard OT touchdown pass to Demaryius Thomas in the playoffs? And Twitter was exploding with 9,420 tweets about Tebow per second? When an ESPN poll was naming him the most popular athlete in America?
Tebow was spending that hour talking to 16-year-old Bailey Knaub about her 73 surgeries so far and what TV shows she likes.
More than that, Tebow kept corralling people into the room for Bailey to meet. Hey, Demaryius, come in here a minute. Hey, Mr. Elway. Hey, Coach Fox.
Even though sometimes-fatal Wegener's granulomatosis has left Bailey with only one lung, the attention took her breath away.
"It was the best day of my life," she emailed. "It was a bright star among very gloomy and difficult days. Tim Tebow gave me the greatest gift I could ever imagine. He gave me the strength for the future. I know now that I can face any obstacle placed in front of me. Tim taught me to never give up because at the end of the day, today might seem bleak but it can't rain forever and tomorrow is a new day, with new promises."
I read that email to Tebow, and he was honestly floored.
"Why me? Why should I inspire her?" he said. "I just don't feel, I don't know, adequate. Really, hearing her story inspires me."
It's not just NFL defenses that get Tebowed. It's high school girls who don't know whether they'll ever go to a prom. It's adults who can hardly stand. It's kids who will die soon.
For the game at Buffalo, it was Charlottesville, Va., blue-chip high school QB Jacob Rainey, who lost his leg after a freak tackle in a scrimmage. Tebow threw three interceptions in that Buffalo game and the Broncos were crushed 40-14.
"He walked in and took a big sigh and said, 'Well, that didn't go as planned,'" Rainey remembers.
"Where I'm from, people wonder how sincere and genuine he is. But I think he's the most genuine person I've ever met."
There's not an ounce of artifice or phoniness or Hollywood in this kid Tebow, and I've looked everywhere for it.
Take 9-year-old Zac Taylor, a child who lives in constant pain. Immediately after Tebow shocked the Chicago Bears with a 13-10 comeback win, Tebow spent an hour with Zac and his family. At one point, Zac, who has 10 doctors, asked Tebow whether he has a secret prayer for hospital visits. Tebow whispered it in his ear. And because Tebow still needed to be checked out by the Broncos' team doctor, he took Zac in with him, but only after they had whispered it together.
And it's not always kids. Tom Driscoll, a 55-year-old who is dying of brain cancer at a hospice in Denver, was Tebow's guest for the Cincinnati game. "The doctors took some of my brain," Driscoll says, "so my short-term memory is kind of shot. But that day I'll never forget. Tim is such a good man."
This whole thing makes no football sense, of course. Most NFL players hardly talk to teammates before a game, much less visit with the sick and dying.
Isn't that a huge distraction?
"Just the opposite," Tebow says. "It's by far the best thing I do to get myself ready. Here you are, about to play a game that the world says is the most important thing in the world. Win and they praise you. Lose and they crush you. And here I have a chance to talk to the coolest, most courageous people. It puts it all into perspective. The game doesn't really matter. I mean, I'll give 100 percent of my heart to win it, but in the end, the thing I most want to do is not win championships or make a lot of money, it's to invest in people's lives, to make a difference."
So that's it. I've given up giving up on him. I'm a 100 percent believer. Not in his arm. Not in his skills. I believe in his heart, his there-will-definitely-be-a-pony-under-the-tree optimism, the way his love pours into people, right up to their eyeballs, until they believe they can master the hopeless comeback, too.
Remember the QB who lost his leg, Jacob Rainey? He got his prosthetic leg a few weeks ago, and he wants to play high school football next season. Yes, tackle football. He'd be the first to do that on an above-the-knee amputation.
Hmmm. Wonder where he got that crazy idea?
"Tim told me to keep fighting, no matter what," Rainey says. "I am."
I've come to believe in Tim Tebow, but not for what he does on a football field, which is still three parts Dr. Jekyll and two parts Mr. Hyde.
No, I've come to believe in Tim Tebow for what he does off a football field, which is represent the best parts of us, the parts I want to be and so rarely am.
Who among us is this selfless?
Every week, Tebow picks out someone who is suffering, or who is dying, or who is injured. He flies these people and their families to the Broncos game, rents them a car, puts them up in a nice hotel, buys them dinner (usually at a Dave & Buster's), gets them and their families pregame passes, visits with them just before kickoff (!), gets them 30-yard-line tickets down low, visits with them after the game (sometimes for an hour), has them walk him to his car, and sends them off with a basket of gifts.
Home or road, win or lose, hero or goat.
Remember last week, when the world was pulling its hair out in the hour after Tebow had stunned the Pittsburgh Steelers with an 80-yard OT touchdown pass to Demaryius Thomas in the playoffs? And Twitter was exploding with 9,420 tweets about Tebow per second? When an ESPN poll was naming him the most popular athlete in America?
Tebow was spending that hour talking to 16-year-old Bailey Knaub about her 73 surgeries so far and what TV shows she likes.
More than that, Tebow kept corralling people into the room for Bailey to meet. Hey, Demaryius, come in here a minute. Hey, Mr. Elway. Hey, Coach Fox.
Even though sometimes-fatal Wegener's granulomatosis has left Bailey with only one lung, the attention took her breath away.
"It was the best day of my life," she emailed. "It was a bright star among very gloomy and difficult days. Tim Tebow gave me the greatest gift I could ever imagine. He gave me the strength for the future. I know now that I can face any obstacle placed in front of me. Tim taught me to never give up because at the end of the day, today might seem bleak but it can't rain forever and tomorrow is a new day, with new promises."
I read that email to Tebow, and he was honestly floored.
"Why me? Why should I inspire her?" he said. "I just don't feel, I don't know, adequate. Really, hearing her story inspires me."
It's not just NFL defenses that get Tebowed. It's high school girls who don't know whether they'll ever go to a prom. It's adults who can hardly stand. It's kids who will die soon.
For the game at Buffalo, it was Charlottesville, Va., blue-chip high school QB Jacob Rainey, who lost his leg after a freak tackle in a scrimmage. Tebow threw three interceptions in that Buffalo game and the Broncos were crushed 40-14.
"He walked in and took a big sigh and said, 'Well, that didn't go as planned,'" Rainey remembers.
"Where I'm from, people wonder how sincere and genuine he is. But I think he's the most genuine person I've ever met."
There's not an ounce of artifice or phoniness or Hollywood in this kid Tebow, and I've looked everywhere for it.
Take 9-year-old Zac Taylor, a child who lives in constant pain. Immediately after Tebow shocked the Chicago Bears with a 13-10 comeback win, Tebow spent an hour with Zac and his family. At one point, Zac, who has 10 doctors, asked Tebow whether he has a secret prayer for hospital visits. Tebow whispered it in his ear. And because Tebow still needed to be checked out by the Broncos' team doctor, he took Zac in with him, but only after they had whispered it together.
And it's not always kids. Tom Driscoll, a 55-year-old who is dying of brain cancer at a hospice in Denver, was Tebow's guest for the Cincinnati game. "The doctors took some of my brain," Driscoll says, "so my short-term memory is kind of shot. But that day I'll never forget. Tim is such a good man."
This whole thing makes no football sense, of course. Most NFL players hardly talk to teammates before a game, much less visit with the sick and dying.
Isn't that a huge distraction?
Stephanie Taylor Not everything Tim Tebow does on one knee is controversial. Ask Zac Taylor.
"Just the opposite," Tebow says. "It's by far the best thing I do to get myself ready. Here you are, about to play a game that the world says is the most important thing in the world. Win and they praise you. Lose and they crush you. And here I have a chance to talk to the coolest, most courageous people. It puts it all into perspective. The game doesn't really matter. I mean, I'll give 100 percent of my heart to win it, but in the end, the thing I most want to do is not win championships or make a lot of money, it's to invest in people's lives, to make a difference."
So that's it. I've given up giving up on him. I'm a 100 percent believer. Not in his arm. Not in his skills. I believe in his heart, his there-will-definitely-be-a-pony-under-the-tree optimism, the way his love pours into people, right up to their eyeballs, until they believe they can master the hopeless comeback, too.
Remember the QB who lost his leg, Jacob Rainey? He got his prosthetic leg a few weeks ago, and he wants to play high school football next season. Yes, tackle football. He'd be the first to do that on an above-the-knee amputation.
Hmmm. Wonder where he got that crazy idea?
"Tim told me to keep fighting, no matter what," Rainey says. "I am."
Apostles For The New Millenium
Came across this interesting stat today: One out of every 12 people on the planet is an Indian under age 25.
So if Jesus had been alive today and picked the most representative group of apostles possible, one of them could easily been a 13-year old from Punjab.
You know, I don't recall hearing about how old the Biblical apostles were. But if they'd had a teenager in there, I'll bet their tales would've been much different. Probably would've eased up on the wine parable some.
So if Jesus had been alive today and picked the most representative group of apostles possible, one of them could easily been a 13-year old from Punjab.
You know, I don't recall hearing about how old the Biblical apostles were. But if they'd had a teenager in there, I'll bet their tales would've been much different. Probably would've eased up on the wine parable some.
Waking Up
On Friday night I went straight from work to a pair of games (sophomore and varsity) in Decatur. It's about an hour south, which is fairly short considering the geography of central Illinois.
The bus rides are always a bit stiff. As most people know, big yellow school bus engineers work with the following design parameters in mind:
1. Maximum # of passengers possible
2. Minimum shock absorbers
3. Minimum seat padding
4.Six-foot tall men Four-foot tall children
5. Heaters concentrated entirely at the rear
It was, oh, 15 degrees or so with wind chill.
We lost both games, and got home at 11:30.
Came home, went to bed.
Got up at 6:00 to catch 7:00 on Big Yellow, for a three-hour wintry trip (north, naturally) to play some basketball in Rockton, Wisconsin... I mean, Rockton, Illinois.
11:00. Lost by one point. (sophomores)
12:30. Lost by 25 points. (sophomores)
2:00. Lost by 16 points. (varsity)
5:00. Lost by 10 points. (sophomores)
Did I mention that the sophomore games are played in one of those domes that looks like Paul Bunyan's camping tent? It relies pretty heavily on natural lighting and heating. Both are scarce at 5:00 in January. The fact that the game before ours went into overtime gave Mother Nature some extra time to turn down the thermostat. At least we couldn't see our breath. Thanks in part to the fact that we were playing the team hosting the tournament, which had plenty of warm bodies in the stands. It was their first game of the day, and our fourth in 24 hours. They were a little fresher. Under the circumstances we did well.
Got word that the varsity lost their 5:00 game too.
Three hours home on the bus, which drifted onto the shoulder enough times to make me think it was required by law. Fortunately, if we did sail into a cornfield and roll 13 times I could rest with the assurance of my tibias wedged between the seats holding me snugly in place rather than pinballing all about the cabin (a cartoonish picture that I imagine the engineers giggling about as they energetically erased the seatbelts from the bus blueprint).
Started scraping the frost off my car at 10:30.
Entered the house at 11:00.
Straight to bed. Popped on the T.V. and was out in 15 minutes.
Woke up at 8:00. I was pleased to realize that I'd had no dreams about basketball, school buses, or hurtling off a bridge at 70 miles an hour in a school bus full of basketball players.
My body, however, was still not ready to get up.
Crashed on the couch, turned on the T.V., and laid very still. Started ingesting some whole grains, fruits and water.
Stretched out some limbs. Dozed in and out of consciousness.
By 11:00, I felt ready to get up and come hang out with my Hidden Blog pals.
At least until our game on Monday in Rockton.
The bus rides are always a bit stiff. As most people know, big yellow school bus engineers work with the following design parameters in mind:
1. Maximum # of passengers possible
2. Minimum shock absorbers
3. Minimum seat padding
4.
5. Heaters concentrated entirely at the rear
It was, oh, 15 degrees or so with wind chill.
We lost both games, and got home at 11:30.
Came home, went to bed.
Got up at 6:00 to catch 7:00 on Big Yellow, for a three-hour wintry trip (north, naturally) to play some basketball in Rockton, Wisconsin... I mean, Rockton, Illinois.
11:00. Lost by one point. (sophomores)
12:30. Lost by 25 points. (sophomores)
2:00. Lost by 16 points. (varsity)
5:00. Lost by 10 points. (sophomores)
Did I mention that the sophomore games are played in one of those domes that looks like Paul Bunyan's camping tent? It relies pretty heavily on natural lighting and heating. Both are scarce at 5:00 in January. The fact that the game before ours went into overtime gave Mother Nature some extra time to turn down the thermostat. At least we couldn't see our breath. Thanks in part to the fact that we were playing the team hosting the tournament, which had plenty of warm bodies in the stands. It was their first game of the day, and our fourth in 24 hours. They were a little fresher. Under the circumstances we did well.
Got word that the varsity lost their 5:00 game too.
Three hours home on the bus, which drifted onto the shoulder enough times to make me think it was required by law. Fortunately, if we did sail into a cornfield and roll 13 times I could rest with the assurance of my tibias wedged between the seats holding me snugly in place rather than pinballing all about the cabin (a cartoonish picture that I imagine the engineers giggling about as they energetically erased the seatbelts from the bus blueprint).
Started scraping the frost off my car at 10:30.
Entered the house at 11:00.
Straight to bed. Popped on the T.V. and was out in 15 minutes.
Woke up at 8:00. I was pleased to realize that I'd had no dreams about basketball, school buses, or hurtling off a bridge at 70 miles an hour in a school bus full of basketball players.
My body, however, was still not ready to get up.
Crashed on the couch, turned on the T.V., and laid very still. Started ingesting some whole grains, fruits and water.
Stretched out some limbs. Dozed in and out of consciousness.
By 11:00, I felt ready to get up and come hang out with my Hidden Blog pals.
At least until our game on Monday in Rockton.
Friday, January 13, 2012
The Case For A 21 Hour Work Week
By Michael Coren:
To save the world -- or really to even just make our personal lives better -- we will need to work less.
Time, like work, has become commodified, a recent legacy of industrial capitalism, where a controlled, 40-hour week in factories was necessary. Our behavior is totally out of step with human priorities and today’s economy. To lay the foundations for a "steady-state" economy -- one that can continue running sustainably forever -- a recent paper argues that it’s time for advanced developed countries transition to a normal 21-hour work week.
This does not mean a mandatory work week or leisure-time police. People can choose to work as long, or short, as they please. It’s more about resetting social and political norms. That is, the day when 1,092 hours of paid work per year becomes the "standard that is generally expected by government, employers, trade unions, employees, and everyone else."
The New Economics Foundation (NEF) says there is nothing natural or inevitable about what’s considered a "normal" 40-hour work week today. In its wake, many people are caught in a vicious cycle of work and consumption. They live to work, work to earn, and earn to consume things. Missing from that equation is an important fact that researchers have discovered about most material consumption in wealthy societies: so much of the pleasure and satisfaction we gain from buying is temporary, ephemeral, and mostly just relative to those around us (who strive to consume still more, in a self-perpetuating spiral).
The NEF argues we need to achieve truly happy lives, we need to challenge social norms and reset the industrial clock ticking in our heads. It sees the 21-hour week as integral to this for two reasons: it will redistribute paid work, offering the hope of a more equal society (right now too many are overworked, or underemployed). At the same time, it would give us all time for the things we value but rarely have time to do well such as care for our family, travel, read or continue learning (as opposed to feeding consumerism).
Not to mention, it may be the only way a modern global society won’t overwhelm the earth’s resources. Creating EU-level living standards for the entire world by 2050 would require a six-fold increase in the size of the global economy, with potentially devastating consequences. Instead of growing the economy, maybe we need to recalibrate society to make everyone happier and successful with less.
"The proposed shift towards 21 hours must be seen in terms of a broad, incremental transition to social, economic, and environmental sustainability," says the NEF in its report.
The challenges are great, none more so than figuring out how to make most of society be able to live on half of their current income. And no doubt, many will seize on this as socialism or worse. Many will object to being told that 21 hours is normal, or 80 hours is too much. But consider what John Maynard Keynes, (whose theories underpin much of the global response to the financial crises), said in 1930 about the goal of future societies. Keynes thought that by the start of the 21st century, we would work only 15 to 21 hours a week, and we would instead focus on "how to use freedom from pressing economic cares." As NEF writes: "Keynes was wrong in his forecast, but not at all wrong, it seems to us, to envisage a very different way of using time."
To save the world -- or really to even just make our personal lives better -- we will need to work less.
Time, like work, has become commodified, a recent legacy of industrial capitalism, where a controlled, 40-hour week in factories was necessary. Our behavior is totally out of step with human priorities and today’s economy. To lay the foundations for a "steady-state" economy -- one that can continue running sustainably forever -- a recent paper argues that it’s time for advanced developed countries transition to a normal 21-hour work week.
This does not mean a mandatory work week or leisure-time police. People can choose to work as long, or short, as they please. It’s more about resetting social and political norms. That is, the day when 1,092 hours of paid work per year becomes the "standard that is generally expected by government, employers, trade unions, employees, and everyone else."
The New Economics Foundation (NEF) says there is nothing natural or inevitable about what’s considered a "normal" 40-hour work week today. In its wake, many people are caught in a vicious cycle of work and consumption. They live to work, work to earn, and earn to consume things. Missing from that equation is an important fact that researchers have discovered about most material consumption in wealthy societies: so much of the pleasure and satisfaction we gain from buying is temporary, ephemeral, and mostly just relative to those around us (who strive to consume still more, in a self-perpetuating spiral).
The NEF argues we need to achieve truly happy lives, we need to challenge social norms and reset the industrial clock ticking in our heads. It sees the 21-hour week as integral to this for two reasons: it will redistribute paid work, offering the hope of a more equal society (right now too many are overworked, or underemployed). At the same time, it would give us all time for the things we value but rarely have time to do well such as care for our family, travel, read or continue learning (as opposed to feeding consumerism).
Not to mention, it may be the only way a modern global society won’t overwhelm the earth’s resources. Creating EU-level living standards for the entire world by 2050 would require a six-fold increase in the size of the global economy, with potentially devastating consequences. Instead of growing the economy, maybe we need to recalibrate society to make everyone happier and successful with less.
"The proposed shift towards 21 hours must be seen in terms of a broad, incremental transition to social, economic, and environmental sustainability," says the NEF in its report.
The challenges are great, none more so than figuring out how to make most of society be able to live on half of their current income. And no doubt, many will seize on this as socialism or worse. Many will object to being told that 21 hours is normal, or 80 hours is too much. But consider what John Maynard Keynes, (whose theories underpin much of the global response to the financial crises), said in 1930 about the goal of future societies. Keynes thought that by the start of the 21st century, we would work only 15 to 21 hours a week, and we would instead focus on "how to use freedom from pressing economic cares." As NEF writes: "Keynes was wrong in his forecast, but not at all wrong, it seems to us, to envisage a very different way of using time."
Thursday, January 12, 2012
One Volleyball Point Lasts Two Amazing Minutes
I've played entire intramural volleyball games shorter than this!
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Learning For Tomorrow
Today was the day to take some action toward the "$12,000 job" 2012 goal.
Do what you love, and never work a day in your life. And I love to teach.
Whether I eventually self-employ in the education field or work as an employee, it starts with research.
Many times I drive by this place called "Learning for Tomorrow." I'd skimmed their web site before. Today I decided to pop in and ask questions. The manager was really helpful.
They charge $45/hr for most sessions. Stuff gets skimmed off the top between the retail price and the tutor's wallet, but let's say that's $30/hr in the end. So 400 hours of work a year, or 8 hours a week. They actually get busier during the summer months, as students try to brush up, maintain, or get ahead. I found that interesting... I had zero thought about school during my childhood summers!
Now I'm not worth $30/hr yet. But I am committed to tutoring as much math as I can, to get to that level. As I tutor, I learn. Everyone wins.
I dropped off my contact information.
Something or nothing might happen. The excitement is in the trying.
Do what you love, and never work a day in your life. And I love to teach.
Whether I eventually self-employ in the education field or work as an employee, it starts with research.
Many times I drive by this place called "Learning for Tomorrow." I'd skimmed their web site before. Today I decided to pop in and ask questions. The manager was really helpful.
They charge $45/hr for most sessions. Stuff gets skimmed off the top between the retail price and the tutor's wallet, but let's say that's $30/hr in the end. So 400 hours of work a year, or 8 hours a week. They actually get busier during the summer months, as students try to brush up, maintain, or get ahead. I found that interesting... I had zero thought about school during my childhood summers!
Now I'm not worth $30/hr yet. But I am committed to tutoring as much math as I can, to get to that level. As I tutor, I learn. Everyone wins.
I dropped off my contact information.
Something or nothing might happen. The excitement is in the trying.
Pretty Funny, Out Of Context
From Republican presidential candidate Jon Huntsman, after coming in a distant third in the New Hampshire primary election, in reference to the upcoming South Carolina primary:
"Where we stand right now is a solid, comfortable, confident position. And we go south from here."
"Where we stand right now is a solid, comfortable, confident position. And we go south from here."
Don't Worry Be Happy!
It's time for the first weekly blog of thanks for the year. It hit me smack in the eyes during the middle of a crazy day at work.
Sometimes things feel beyond our control. I found myself consumed fretting about a big project with few resources.
But there is always something in our control. Our response to the situation. When the mind is a hurricane of emotion, there is a shelter within. It's impenetrable. Tropical music plays inside it, and it's cozy and comfortable. We just need to take a few steps through the swirling winds, wrench open the door and step inside.
On this day I chose to consider how mild of a winter day it was. Nearly fifty degrees. In any other January of the past decade I'd have been goose-stepping on ice or trudging through snow, while negative chill winds battered my cheeks. Huddling in the parking garage urging the heater to pick up the pace so that I could emerge from the fetal position. Today I found myself carrying my hat and gloves out of habit, but smiling at the lack of need to put them on.
While driving home from a game last week, I drifted toward an intersection of a busy street planning to turn right. I glanced to my left first, to make sure of no oncoming traffic. When I looked back to the right, suddenly there was a man practically on top of my hood. He'd chosen to wear dark clothes on this night, and I'd not anticipated anyone wanting to cross such a busy street on foot as I rolled up beside him - and nearly over him. If my reaction time were a drumbeat slower, I could have maimed him. Instead, I'm thankful.
After getting home from work today, Dena cheerfully burst into our room with a story about how someone stole her car wash. I'd never heard of such a thing. Dena dropped her token into the automatic car wash while someone was getting a wash in front of her. That older gentleman proceeded to go through the drying cycle, then back his car into the washing section again and get a second wash - Dena's wash. The point is that Dena could have been pretty irritated by it and spilled it all over me. This is how fortunate I am in marriage, that she uses it to spread joy instead.
This is what was playing in my mental shelter of refuge today, my oasis of peace in a frenetic career. In fact, while sitting in there I came up with a plan for the problem at hand.
"It will soon pass whatever it is. Don't bring everybody down." - Bobby McFerrin
Hope you enjoy the blessings of your own life this week.
Sometimes things feel beyond our control. I found myself consumed fretting about a big project with few resources.
But there is always something in our control. Our response to the situation. When the mind is a hurricane of emotion, there is a shelter within. It's impenetrable. Tropical music plays inside it, and it's cozy and comfortable. We just need to take a few steps through the swirling winds, wrench open the door and step inside.
On this day I chose to consider how mild of a winter day it was. Nearly fifty degrees. In any other January of the past decade I'd have been goose-stepping on ice or trudging through snow, while negative chill winds battered my cheeks. Huddling in the parking garage urging the heater to pick up the pace so that I could emerge from the fetal position. Today I found myself carrying my hat and gloves out of habit, but smiling at the lack of need to put them on.
While driving home from a game last week, I drifted toward an intersection of a busy street planning to turn right. I glanced to my left first, to make sure of no oncoming traffic. When I looked back to the right, suddenly there was a man practically on top of my hood. He'd chosen to wear dark clothes on this night, and I'd not anticipated anyone wanting to cross such a busy street on foot as I rolled up beside him - and nearly over him. If my reaction time were a drumbeat slower, I could have maimed him. Instead, I'm thankful.
After getting home from work today, Dena cheerfully burst into our room with a story about how someone stole her car wash. I'd never heard of such a thing. Dena dropped her token into the automatic car wash while someone was getting a wash in front of her. That older gentleman proceeded to go through the drying cycle, then back his car into the washing section again and get a second wash - Dena's wash. The point is that Dena could have been pretty irritated by it and spilled it all over me. This is how fortunate I am in marriage, that she uses it to spread joy instead.
This is what was playing in my mental shelter of refuge today, my oasis of peace in a frenetic career. In fact, while sitting in there I came up with a plan for the problem at hand.
"It will soon pass whatever it is. Don't bring everybody down." - Bobby McFerrin
Hope you enjoy the blessings of your own life this week.
Embarrassing Goalkeeper Error Leads to Goal
I'd imagine that goalie wives eventually learn not to ask "How was your day?" when they get home from work.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Wake-Up Mile
Some mornings, not too long after I roll out of bed, I get my day's exercise taken care of by going for a 3-mile run.
Since I tend to do my stretching later in the day, my legs often have the consistency of mush as I first meander onto the sidewalk while traffic whizzes by.
Clop, clop. Clop, clop. Clop, clop.
My shoes sound like an old mare heading back to the stable.
The air is somehow thicker than usual, like passing through water.
Little aches and pains introduce themselves in unusual places.
Did I mention the first quarter mile is all uphill?
Experience has taught me that this is what the first mile is like on my runs.
And in most things I try for the first time.
Experience has also taught me that it gets easier. My body adjusts, warms up, loosens. I find my stride.
I will get the hang of this. It's just a phase. I am destined to succeed. I will not fret.
And life gets better, by inches and miles.
Since I tend to do my stretching later in the day, my legs often have the consistency of mush as I first meander onto the sidewalk while traffic whizzes by.
Clop, clop. Clop, clop. Clop, clop.
My shoes sound like an old mare heading back to the stable.
The air is somehow thicker than usual, like passing through water.
Little aches and pains introduce themselves in unusual places.
Did I mention the first quarter mile is all uphill?
Experience has taught me that this is what the first mile is like on my runs.
And in most things I try for the first time.
Experience has also taught me that it gets easier. My body adjusts, warms up, loosens. I find my stride.
I will get the hang of this. It's just a phase. I am destined to succeed. I will not fret.
And life gets better, by inches and miles.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Illinois State Wins On 3 Point Buzzer Beater
Go you Redbirds, on to victory, fight for ISU!
http://espn.go.com/blog/collegebasketballnation/post/_/id/43913/video-illinois-state-buzzer-beater
http://espn.go.com/blog/collegebasketballnation/post/_/id/43913/video-illinois-state-buzzer-beater
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Rising NFL Steelers Star And Mom Have Overcome Obstacles
Courtesy of Les Carpenter, Yahoo! Sports:
The lawyers cost money but they could keep her son out of jail, so Leslie Redman kept paying them until there was nothing left and she had to declare bankruptcy. Soon came the creditors to collect for the various unpaid bills, and they took the car and the house. Her husband vanished, leaving her with just her daughter and her son, Isaac, who prosecutors threatened to send to prison for 20 years. There was no way she’d let that happen.
“We can always get another house,” she told her children.
Isaac Redman had a season-high 92 rushing yards in the finale.
(AP Photo)
(AP Photo)
So if you think the Pittsburgh Steelers lost something big when running backRashard Mendenhall went down with a knee injury, that they won’t be able to replace him with someone as driven, as relentless, then you don’t know aboutIsaac Redman, the man who will line up in his place against the Denver Broncos in Sunday’s AFC wild-card contest. Redman once had everything – big colleges knocking at his door, the promise of a bright career, a smooth ride to the NFL. Then, the schools, the house, his reputation and everything else were all gone. And building it all back has been a far longer process.
“My mom stood by me,” he says. “She sacrificed everything.”
He was a high school star in Paulsboro, N.J., a town just outside Camden in the Philadelphia suburbs, a running back who was impossible to stop. Big schools called. There were scholarship offers and recruiting visits. Iowa was persistent. Temple was close to home and it seemed right. Then came April 17, 2003, and a party in a nearby town. He and another young man were accused of first-degree sexual assault of a 15-year-old girl in a car outside the house. He was 18 and about to finish high school.
Redman declines to elaborate on the details of that evening, but he eventually took a plea deal (resulting in three years of probation and no jail time) that convicted him of fourth-degree sexual contact (humiliating or degrading intimate touching). Leslie Redman says there were family pressures that led to the complaint and that someone familiar with the charges eventually apologized to Isaac for the fact they were brought.
But before the case was resolved, he faced 20 years in prison. Suddenly the colleges stopped calling. A low SAT score gave Temple reason to put his scholarship on hold, his once-gleaming future clouded. He spent months in a legal haze, with no college, no football, nothing but the fear he had lost it all.
When Isaac was arrested, Leslie cried for a week. “I knew he wanted to do so much with his life and it might not happen,” she says. “But I have faith in God and I keep praying and if you do that, God will take care of everything.”
A friend who rents houses called and said she had a house they could have free of charge. It was small, with no closets and barely enough room for Leslie, Isaac and his sister, but it was a house. It was a new start and what else could they be but grateful? With Temple stalling and nothing else looming for him, there came another surprise. It was something small, not much, but what choice did he have? Bowie State, a Division II school in the Maryland suburbs of Washington, D.C. was willing to take a chance.
Again, Isaac Redman could be nothing but grateful.
Around Camden, Marc Harrison was known as sort of a last hope for athletes who fell through the cracks. And around Camden lots of athletes fell through the cracks. He was once a runner himself, a track athlete who made it to Bucknell and had become the director of compliance for the athletic department at Bowie. There had been plenty of desperate phone calls from parents longing to see their kids in college. Was there any way he could help? Often he could. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
One night, as Harrison napped on his couch, a friend called. The friend had a cousin, a running back, someone who was good. Did Harrison think he could talk to the football coaches at Bowie?
Harrison said Bowie had 10 running backs and wasn’t looking for any more.
“It’s Isaac Redman,” the friend said.
Harrison jumped off the couch. He knew all about Redman. Who from Camden didn’t? Paulsboro was the rival to Harrison’s school. He followed the papers and went back to an occasional game. He had seen Redman play, watched him crash through tacklers. The last he heard he was going to Temple or Iowa.
“There were complications,” the friend said.
The friend sent Harrison a highlight tape. Harrison took the tape to Bowie’s coach at the time, Mike Lynn, who had the same reaction as Harrison when the friend called. Bowie didn’t need any more running backs.
“Just watch the tape,” Harrison told him.
Lynn did.
“His jaw dropped,” Harrison says laughing. “He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.”
Isaac Redman
And right there, Lynn decided that Bowie could use an 11th running back.
“When I gave him the opportunity he said, ‘Mr. Harrison, I’m going to be the best they ever had here. I’m going to make it to the league,’ ” Harrison says.
Had Harrison not taken the tape to the Bowie coaches, who knows what would have happened to Isaac?
“That tape was ridiculous,” Isaac says. “There were a lot of plays on it that would blow your mind.”
He doesn’t say this in an arrogant way. In fact he sounds almost muted, stating a simple fact. And when he got to Bowie in the late summer of 2004, he set about to make sure he had many more.
“Determination is definitely what he had,” says Bowie’s current head coach, Damon Wilson, who was Isaac’s position coach at the time. “He has a gift and he made the most of it.”
Harrison – who has since left Bowie to work at a charter school in Northeast D.C. – remembers the same thing. “He was really determined,” he says.
Every day, Redman showed up to campus in a button-up shirt and glasses, carrying books, appearing regularly in the weight room and forever talking about the same thing: getting to the NFL. Harrison looked hard at the sexual assault charges, talking to several people until he was sure what happened and understood that Isaac would not be a problem at Bowie. The administration even researched his background after a Division I coach called and told a Bowie official about the arrest.
Ultimately, Bowie’s faith in Redman paid off. Redman, who redshirted in 2006, finished as Bowie’s all-time leading rusher with 3,300 yards and 35 touchdowns. Wilson still remembers a 99-yard touchdown run in 2007. But because Bowie is a Division II school that had only sent two players for brief runs in the NFL, Redman drew little professional interest. No scouts came to practice. Nobody asked to see tape. It was as if he didn’t exist at all.
In the winter of 2009, following his senior season, Isaac went to Los Angeles to work out with then-USC running backs coach Todd McNair, a former Camden-area star and NFL player, whose wife is Leslie’s niece. When McNair played for Temple in the late 1980s, his head coach was the Steelers’ current offensive coordinator, Bruce Arians, who also became his position coach with the Kansas City Chiefs. McNair sent Redman’s Bowie game film to Arians, begging his former coach to watch it. The Steelers invited Isaac to a minicamp. After that came a contract and an invite to ’09 training camp.
Isaac Redman tosses a ball in practice as the Steelers prepare for the Broncos.
(AP Photo)
(AP Photo)
At first the Steelers weren’t sure. He was strong and could break tackles but he struggled to stay in shape. Pittsburgh coach Mike Tomlin kept calling him “Barlow,” a mocking reference to former NFL running back Kevan Barlow who was famous for underachieving. After that first camp, the Steelers cut Redman and signed him to their practice squad. Despite the fact the team kept him around, he felt like he failed, like he had blown his NFL shot, that he had failed his mother and Bowie and everyone who had taken the chance on him.
The next summer he worked to get in better shape and it showed in the preseason games. When coaches started approaching him with friendly back slaps not long before the start of the season – telling him he needed to be sure to have a financial advisor – he realized he was making the team. But his real feeling of belonging didn’t come until late in the season when he caught the game-winning touchdown pass in a 13-10 road victory over the Baltimore Ravens.
“It went from being, ‘Do they trust me on the team?’ to ‘I just had a big touchdown in a game against the Baltimore Ravens, our rivals,’ ” Isaac says. “You become the guy everyone likes in the locker room for a couple of weeks.”
From the Steelers headquarters, Isaac sighs into the phone. He contemplates where he would be if Harrison hadn’t taken his tape to Bowie coaches.
“Who knows what would have happened,” he says. “I would have sat around for another year. I wanted to go to college but people always say, ‘Oh I’ll go to school in another year.’ I know a lot of people who say that and then they never do.”
He doesn’t talk much about the charges or the year he spent in limbo. Leslie says he is not angry about what happened although people around him have told him he should be.
“It’s sad that something like that happened to me so young,” he says. “People who know me understand the situation. You can never get past it. It keeps coming up. It’s a blessing that Marc Harrison was willing to help me out.”
Leslie Redman
He says he owes his mother everything he can give. It’s why he was so driven to succeed at Bowie. He wanted to go to school, make her proud and wanted her to know that losing the house and the car and everything she had because of her faith in him would be worth it.
“I was determined to stay hungry,” he says.
Leslie, who says everything is fine now, doesn’t want anything from her son. She always tells him his money is his and to please not spend any of it on her. But she knows this is futile. She knows he tells people he owes her, that she sacrificed for him, and with his NFL salary he got her a bigger place to live, something like what she had before. He has a place in Pittsburgh and she comes out for his games, spending the afternoons cooking. He also has a son, a one-year-old named Haiden, and he comes home often to be with him. The other day, on a Steelers off-day, Leslie returned home to have the neighborhood children tell her Isaac had been out on the street throwing a football with them. She smiled. How far things had come from the year her son sat home alone, his reputation torn apart.
“He says he’s got it and looks at it all the time,” Harrison says.Harrison knows he has a friend, a player in the NFL to whom he is the godfather of his son. On the day Harrison’s son was going to play his first youth football game, Isaac called the boy early in the morning, without Harrison even knowing, just to wish him good luck. And when Isaac started his first game for the Steelers this fall, the kids on the KLM Steelers youth football team in Prince George’s County took their No. 33 jersey, a perfect replica of the Pittsburgh Steelers uniforms, and signed their names across it – a gift to him.
Then he pauses.
“You know, Isaac is really a good kid.”
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