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(A puzzle… wrapped in a true story)
I was standing in the bank branch foyer the other day. It was lunchtime, and only two tellers were working, so there was a small line.
Waiting my turn, the man in front of me turned around, and I recognized him. He was an acquaintance from a former church where I had served. The truth is, the last we’d seen of each other in any meaningful way was on a rafting trip more than 10 years ago. We had a few minutes to catch up – not asking eternal-type questions mind you – just mainly the life-and-work stuff.
He had retired a few years ago, just in time for the stock market to crater. So he had figured out that the way out was the way back in, and had gone back to do some consulting.
I told him I am a teacher now for four different universities, soon to be five. I didn’t mention the part about being an aspiring author and counselor.
His back to the tellers, I had to tell him there was one who was available.
“Hello, Mr. Scott,” she said. It was the beginning of a powerful lesson.
Wow, I thought to myself. He must get by here a lot. He must be The Man. I wondered what it was like to have the fab bank teller know you as a somebody. [click to continue…]
I showed up at the gym yesterday, ready to tangle again with Jacobs Ladder, its newest chamber of horrors, among other things. Just as I hit the sidewalk, I passed an older couple getting out of their car. “Older” as in mid-to-late sixties, I suppose.
There was something different about him. Maybe it was that he moved with a straighter, more invigorated gait than other men his age. Maybe it was the intentionally-tight silver buzz haircut. Maybe it was the black Army t-shirt he wore – something similar to the one pictured here.
“Stop,” said that little voice inside my head. (You have one too… you may want to pay more attention.)
A bit out of character for me in places like this, I paused to ask: “Are you a veteran?”
His already-alert face lit up as he helped his wife to the curb. “Yes, I am,” he smiled. [click to continue…]
He outran them all.
From the woods and swamps around his home in Millry, Alabama to the grass turf at Wildcat Hill, where the Millry Wildcats play their home games…
From a stint in the postwar United States Navy to the gridiron at the Mississippi Southern College…
From the sidelines and dugouts in the rural South to a legacy of influence that will long outlive him…
Nobody ever outran Morris Brown.
Nobody.
And he’d be the first to tell you.
In college they called him “Lightning.” But the people whose lives were most impacted by his teaching, motivation, and personal influence to this day simply call him, “Coach.” [click to continue…]
Last night the Texas Rangers won their first-ever postseason series.
And they celebrated with ginger ale.
Why?
Because Josh Hamilton, the Rangers’ star outfielder, graciously refuses to go anywhere near alcohol.
When the Rangers clinched their division in Oakland back in September, as beer and champagne flowed in the visitors’ locker room, Josh changed in a side office and left the clubhouse to go speak to a church group in Oakland about his life and testimony.
But last night, after winning the division series – something the Texas Rangers (and former Washington Senators) had never done – the team made sure it would be a team celebration. [click to continue…]
There wasn’t much about Barry Wheeler to command respect. He was certainly no athlete. His skinny frame was the product of a lifetime of allergies and a bad case of asthma that earned him the cruel nickname of “Barry Wheezer.”
Barry was no musician or class politician. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and his shy, withdrawn personality made him just another face in the crowd at high school in Topeka.
Barry was no geekzilla either. A “B” student in regular classes, nobody called Barry out for the National Honor Society – or any honor, for that matter.
Barry was just a guy. But he had one thing going for him. [click to continue…]
What would you do if you were Jimmy? You’re caught in a dilemma because your best friend is a hood. Riff-raff. Wrong side of the tracks. Your parents say you can’t visit him. And he’d do just as well to stay on his side of town, too. But there’s something special about him; that’s why he’s your best friend. He doesn’t have much, but he does have heart and passion.
And a cheap, second-hand guitar he doesn’t even know how to tune.
You come from a good family, with something of a pedigree. You live in one of the music capitals of America, and your cousin is a famous country musician.
Maybe you can still be his friend - this kid some people called “white trash.”
Maybe you can introduce your friend to your cousin. Maybe your cousin can cross the tracks in your place.
That’s what Jimmy did. [click to continue…]
The life you invest in is often as close as your own son or daughter…
What turned my head was the sign for Aunt Beaut’s pan-fried chicken.
Why is it when God wants to get my attention, the easiest way to do it involves chicken? My belt really is a leather fence around a chicken graveyard.
Anyway, last week we were in downtown Charlotte on vacation. And there on the corner of West Trade and Tryon Street was the King’s Kitchen. Open for lunch or dinner, the restaurant trumpets “New Local Southern Cuisine.”
They had me at “Southern.”
True, I can get fried chicken anywhere. But when was the last time you went into a restaurant that had collard greens, cream corn, and butter beans all on the menu for lunch?
So I staked the place out, and the next day my wife and I walked the block from our hotel to sample the King’s Kitchen for lunch.
I immediately knew something was different about this place when I read the quotation on the wall just inside the door [click to continue…]
How do you respond when you are told every day what a nobody you are? When the people who are supposed to be your friends and co-learners in school instead ruthlessly call you demeaning names, and you feel you have no one to talk to?
Brenda Poage gets that. And Brenda is a somebody that you need to know. Wife and mother, author and visionary, Brenda – like most of us – is who she is because of how she has responded to some painful experiences in her life.
Brenda is a LifeVestor.
Kids can be cruel, but you don’t have to explain that to Brenda. From the time she started school in her small Texas town, she was mercilessly bullied by other kids in school. Having to play academic catch-up required that Brenda attend remedial classes. And she became the brunt of some pretty mean name calling and bullying.
So when educators and parents today start quoting statistics that as many as half of all school children are bullied in some way, Brenda does more than raise her hand as “Exhibit A.” She did something about it. And that’s how Ima Nobody Becomes a Somebody was born. [click to continue…]
It’s a little hard to feel sorry for Mo, even when at times in his childhood you would have been tempted to. He was a sickly child, and his short, thin physique was no match for the other boys who were good at sports.
Mo was no geek, either. Something of a slacker in school, the truth was, book learning was way past hard for him.
But he had his looks, right?
Uh, no. Sitting atop his bony, wiry frame was a giant schnoz. The dude was seven shades of ugly. [click to continue…]
I was standing in the bank branch foyer the other day. It was lunchtime, and only two tellers were working, so there was a small line.
