Team McDonald achieved the high score of 37 strokes at the Links at Ireland Grove golf course Thursday evening.
The best-ball format was part of the 2nd annual Life/Health Actuarial Department golf social. McDonald planned to bypass the event, but was recruited by the coordinator to captain a four-person squad of unattached employees.
Shyam Lakshmin - legendary Christmas card photo snapper
Justin Mai - employee of 4 days
Lisa Pankau - summer intern
The highly talented (at non-golfing) quartet rolled the ball merrily along the ground, through the weeds, into the rough and the water. Finishing 7 over par earned them a sizable lead over the next closest finisher, and a gaping 10 strokes behind the event winner.
The team was given a cheap plastic blue cup of shame, and awarded large rainbow-colored suckers because, as stated, "You suck."
Team McDonald immediately embarked on its plan to defend the honor by swearing off golf until next year.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
I Own You... Not
"As I would not be a slave, so I would not be a master." - Abraham Lincoln
Lincoln's elegant reverse statement of the Golden Rule suggests not to treat anyone worse than ourselves.
When someone makes a mistake, it's unlikely that it's worse than every mistake we've ever made - so we can treat it with the kindness that we'd wish to receive if it were our own.
Lincoln's elegant reverse statement of the Golden Rule suggests not to treat anyone worse than ourselves.
When someone makes a mistake, it's unlikely that it's worse than every mistake we've ever made - so we can treat it with the kindness that we'd wish to receive if it were our own.
Wisdom From The Fool
Wisdom is applied failure.
Some people are born with instinct and a plush supply of common sense. Others learn through trial and error. If they choose to learn through their mistakes, in time they may become "wise." In situations where I get that kind of regard, it's usually because I've already proven to someone else how well I do things wrong in the past!
Often we're bad at something before we're good at something. And lately, I must be on track to be a work superstar!
Some people are born with instinct and a plush supply of common sense. Others learn through trial and error. If they choose to learn through their mistakes, in time they may become "wise." In situations where I get that kind of regard, it's usually because I've already proven to someone else how well I do things wrong in the past!
Often we're bad at something before we're good at something. And lately, I must be on track to be a work superstar!
What About Bob?
Dena just bought this classic comedy the other day. The highly acclaimed, clinically cool psychologist slowly loses all grip on reality as the paranoid but crazy-fun Bill Murray wins the hearts of his family.
What a helpful reminder to stay cool as well, as work's crept me closer to the edge of distrurbia than at any time in recent memory. Because really, life's truly no more difficult than sitting around the table munching happily on hand-shucked corn.
What a helpful reminder to stay cool as well, as work's crept me closer to the edge of distrurbia than at any time in recent memory. Because really, life's truly no more difficult than sitting around the table munching happily on hand-shucked corn.
Open The Window!
Yes, it's a little warmer than ideal this week. The other day while driving to work I noticed that I'd left my window rolled up.
All through the biting fall/winter/spring seasons when temperatures occasionally or often threaten the physical safety of exposed skin, the idea of traveling in fresh air is only a dream. It's funny how quickly dreams are taken for granted when they arrive.
The window came down, wind whipped my hair, and summer came into the car - and a little bit more into my soul.
All through the biting fall/winter/spring seasons when temperatures occasionally or often threaten the physical safety of exposed skin, the idea of traveling in fresh air is only a dream. It's funny how quickly dreams are taken for granted when they arrive.
The window came down, wind whipped my hair, and summer came into the car - and a little bit more into my soul.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
This Is Dedicated To The One I Love
The floor buzzed with excitement as Normal Community High School students and other fans swarmed the basketball floor. The guard of the girls' basketball team had just swished a jumper from the right elbow as time expired to give them a thrilling 1-point playoff win. As I surged down from the stands and into the throng just enjoying the moment, I heard a voice calling out as if a limo driver trying to identify his fare at the world's most crowded airport.
"Coach McDonald!" It caught my attention oddly, being that I'm mostly anonymous at NCHS and was here as a fan rather than as a coach. Even when we poured onto the floor in victory after boys' playoff wins this past year, I never heard my name called. But this was seeking me out somehow. Plus, it was familiar. In fact, it was Lee Hall, local T.V. sports news anchor on location trying to get a quote from anyone. Evidently my name was somehow in a program as a hoops coach and no one else was responding to his search.
I gestured to him and he hustled over with his cameraman, with an introductory shake of the hand. I expected him to fire out a question about what we'd just witnessed. Instead, he seemed to be trying to get to know me within the dancing frenzy around us.
"So do you tend to help with the girls or the boys?" he asked with surprisingly genuine, unhurried curiosity.
"Mostly with the boys," I replied. "But I enjoy coming out to support the girls when I can."
"Why do you do this?" he followed.
I woke up with adrenaline pumping through me, the kind of rush that dismisses any chance of sleep in the near future. The new sun was sailing rays through the window in 5:30 salutation.
The question lingered. Why do I do this?
My thoughts snapped back to sitting on the sideline of the semifinal playoff game at Carver Arena last March. As the refs prepared to toss the ball and launch the game, I thought how glad Dad would have been to be sitting in my place, even as one riding coattails of other great coaches on the bench. I wished that Lee Hall were still standing by.
"Well, my Dad coached basketball for twenty years," I'd have said, "and it's an honor to carry on the family tradition."
Dad was also one to work 12 hours a day. Sleeping in a bit, more night owl than early bird like his son, and then as driven as any of the old Irish-American settlers who laid drainage tile and railroad to help build the heartland in centuries past.
Today's a new opportunity to get out into the day and chalk up a win through force of determination. And so it is that I'll approach it with Dad's devotion, even uncharacteristically early, in dedication.
"Coach McDonald!" It caught my attention oddly, being that I'm mostly anonymous at NCHS and was here as a fan rather than as a coach. Even when we poured onto the floor in victory after boys' playoff wins this past year, I never heard my name called. But this was seeking me out somehow. Plus, it was familiar. In fact, it was Lee Hall, local T.V. sports news anchor on location trying to get a quote from anyone. Evidently my name was somehow in a program as a hoops coach and no one else was responding to his search.
I gestured to him and he hustled over with his cameraman, with an introductory shake of the hand. I expected him to fire out a question about what we'd just witnessed. Instead, he seemed to be trying to get to know me within the dancing frenzy around us.
"So do you tend to help with the girls or the boys?" he asked with surprisingly genuine, unhurried curiosity.
"Mostly with the boys," I replied. "But I enjoy coming out to support the girls when I can."
"Why do you do this?" he followed.
I woke up with adrenaline pumping through me, the kind of rush that dismisses any chance of sleep in the near future. The new sun was sailing rays through the window in 5:30 salutation.
The question lingered. Why do I do this?
My thoughts snapped back to sitting on the sideline of the semifinal playoff game at Carver Arena last March. As the refs prepared to toss the ball and launch the game, I thought how glad Dad would have been to be sitting in my place, even as one riding coattails of other great coaches on the bench. I wished that Lee Hall were still standing by.
"Well, my Dad coached basketball for twenty years," I'd have said, "and it's an honor to carry on the family tradition."
Dad was also one to work 12 hours a day. Sleeping in a bit, more night owl than early bird like his son, and then as driven as any of the old Irish-American settlers who laid drainage tile and railroad to help build the heartland in centuries past.
Today's a new opportunity to get out into the day and chalk up a win through force of determination. And so it is that I'll approach it with Dad's devotion, even uncharacteristically early, in dedication.
Monday, June 27, 2011
To Ease His Own
"Nothing can bring you peace but yourself." - Dale Carnegie
Could've used that line a time or two today. The 14-hour days get old quickly. It's easy to slip out of perspective, getting absorbed in the crisis at hand.
Fortunately the fates came together and created a calm and sunny afternoon. Just the right people, just the right mood to overcome the rapids. Another good vision to hold as days go by.
Could've used that line a time or two today. The 14-hour days get old quickly. It's easy to slip out of perspective, getting absorbed in the crisis at hand.
Fortunately the fates came together and created a calm and sunny afternoon. Just the right people, just the right mood to overcome the rapids. Another good vision to hold as days go by.
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