Trying this again

I spent about 6 hours of my work day (don't tell my wife) reading something that's very special to me. My dad kept a journal of my senior year of high school. Volume 1 covers the events that took place from July 11, 1998 to February 14, 1999. The majority of this issue is filled with my senior year of football, a series of memories that will forever be seared in my mind. Dad kept up with everything and made a point to not only describe in detail what happened, but also shares his feelings, concerns, emotions, and fears of raising an 18-year-old.

As I read his entries, I realized that he took time out of his day to share with me. He made his entries not for me as an 18-year-old but for me, today...now a 29-year-old father of 2.9 kids and for me in another 11 years, at 40 with a 6th grader, an 9th grader, and a 10th grader. The events in Dad's life while I was finishing my last year of school were pretty huge. He tried to get a budding business off the ground, contemplated changing churches, feared for the safety and welfare of my brother, and had a bicycle wreck in which he broke his jaw, cheekbone, and a bone in his hand. Through all that, he still made time to stick to his commitment of recording a memory of each day.

I read as dad tries to steer me in the right direction on several things. He encourages me to spend less time with my girlfriend and more time with my boys. He encourages me to learn the importance of credit when he bails me out after a series of hot checks. He encourages me by admitting faults which is often a difficult thing for dads (and men in general) to do.

There's a lot I can learn from my dad in this journal.

Lesson 1: Keep a journal and don't give up on it. Here goes nothing.

Lessons from a 9 year old

I watched my nephew, Clayton, play in a pee-wee football game tonight. He reminds me so much of myself. To him, it seems that every scrape, bee sting, and thorn is life threatening. I watched him tonight work hard to look tough. He played left guard on offense and free safety on defense (go figure) and I learned something about myself as I watched him play.

As a free safety, he was often the last thing between the ball and the goal line. As each defender fell, failed in his efforts, or got juked out of his shorts, Clayton's feet became increasingly unstable. I could see the fear grow in his movements as each teammate failed to do what was going to ultimately be his responsibility.

I spend so much of my life waiting for someone else to tackle the things that are barreling toward me. I tell myself "THAT isn't my responsibility" or "maybe it'll just go a different direction and I won't have to deal with it." I don't want to be known for avoiding situations or passing the buck and making others make up for my shortcomings. I don't consider myself a lazy person but my actions probably contradict my thoughts.

In the end, Clayton had no choice but to stand his ground and do his best to keep the ball from crossing the goal line. As one of the smallest on the team, he ALWAYS faced someone bigger, stronger, and faster than him. A few times, he jumped out of the way as his self-doubt took control. Other times, he took an angle that forced the runner out of bounds and knew he had dodged a bullet with only the yards gained as a mark against his team. But once or twice, he dove headlong into the runner and made sure everyone knew that he was there and a force to be reckoned with.

I find that I'm often faced with the same challenge. I can lose faith in my own abilities and jump out of the way. I can take steps backward, eventually push my problem off my radar, and consider the loss as collateral damage. Or I can take a page from Clayton's playbook, throw caution to the wind, and run toward my problem with reckless abandon.

So here's to you, Clayton. Thanks for teaching me a lesson. And don't let the bigger kids scare you. Those clowns might show you up a couple of times but they'll eventually learn that the chicks are more impressed with your voice.