My friend, Pete, called me Sunday morning. His daughter, Devon, had just left 15 minutes before to go to college for her freshman year.
She is a smart, funny, attractive young woman who is attending school on a full academic scholarship.
Pete didn’t expect to miss Devon. She has so much to look forward to and that is his focus. In that moment Pete was feeling a little lonely and I was honored that he put in a call to me to ask me if I’d like to go get a beer that afternoon. I couldn’t go and Pete and I had a great conversation on the phone.
A couple of days later, while I was working, I thought of Devon and I thought of all the times that Pete has talked in glowing terms about her. I am sure that he tells her the same things in person but I also know that when someone reaches out to someone else and says, “So and so always says positive things about you” it can have a deep impact. When you tell them their parents are saying positive things about them when they are not around it can have an even deeper impact.
So I took the liberty of looking Devon up on Facebook and I sent her this note.
Devon,
About 15 minutes after you left on Sunday your dad called me. He said, "I thought I was going to be fine but now that she is gone I really miss her"
I can't tell you the number of times that your dad and I have talked about you. He is so proud of you and he knows that you are going to accomplish everything that you put your mind to in life.
Enjoy the future. It is really bright. When your dad gets weepy I'll take him for a few beers so he can talk about how proud he is of you!
Yours truly,
Devon Fan Cameron
Devon responded with a great note back to me.
When I hear an honest, sincere compliment about someone I like to make sure that they know it. We all like to hear good things about ourselves and it helps to create better self-esteem and makes us stronger.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
My Hero, Ryan
Last weekend I got involved in a Facebook exchange. My girlfriend, Wendy, posted the following:
“July 4th we celebrate the signing of the "Declaration of Independence" Officially forming the 13 colonies, in America, free from the Kingdom of Great Britain. A war took place in this process, The American Revolutionary War. Freedom has ALWAY's come with a price. I stand proud to live in this free nation. I will honor ...& support those who have & continue to fight & defend our countries freedom! Do you?”
This elicited immediate responses as one friend wrote about her son being deployed to Iraq and friendly posts with thanks and positive thoughts for her and her son abounded.
I was struck by one friend who posted “You are the Patriot. Most parents do everything in their power to keep military age children at home.”
I know this person was trying to be nice but the idea that someone would take a group of people, in this case parents, and make a negative assumption about them is troubling to me. Assumptions like this happen all the time and I think it goes to the core of a collective communication discourse in our country that separates all of us.
My nephew, Ryan, also landed in Iraq this week. He has wanted to be a soldier ever since he was a little boy. He tried college for a semester and then decided that the Army Reserve would be a good fit for him and would help him offset his future college expenses.
I know that the way he was pushed in basic training taught him that he could reach deeper than he ever imagined and the forced discipline of the daily process was also a wonderful benefit.
Ryan is the only one of my parent’s seven grandchildren who is currently serving in the military. The other six are either attending college or about to attend college.
I never talked about military service with my oldest son or my daughter. They were so completely focused on college that it wouldn’t have been the best option for them.
My youngest son Sam, who happens to be extremely close to Ryan, could use many of the skills that the military could teach him. I’ve talked about the military several times with him and he has chosen to attend college this year.
I believe that most parents go through this type of process.
As Ryan sits in Iraq and serves his country I am proud of him and scared for him. I don’t think that he considers himself a hero.
The most heroic thing that I have had the honor of seeing Ryan do occurred during his dad’s funeral in June of 2009. While his sister Hilary began to speak about their dad she started to cry. Ryan waited for a moment to let her collect herself and then when she couldn’t, he gracefully approached the podium, put his arm around Hilary and read her words with strength and eloquence.
I am sure that Ryan’s army training came into play in that moment. If he is confronted with a situation that requires grace under pressure in Iraq I know he will respond heroically.
I also know that my friends, family and acquaintances, who are parents, would never do whatever they could to keep their children out of the military. They would simply help their children make the choice that is right for them.
I hope we remember that the majority of the people who live in the United States love this country and when we assume something negative about a particular group it divides us and weakens the country that Ryan is fighting for.
“July 4th we celebrate the signing of the "Declaration of Independence" Officially forming the 13 colonies, in America, free from the Kingdom of Great Britain. A war took place in this process, The American Revolutionary War. Freedom has ALWAY's come with a price. I stand proud to live in this free nation. I will honor ...& support those who have & continue to fight & defend our countries freedom! Do you?”
This elicited immediate responses as one friend wrote about her son being deployed to Iraq and friendly posts with thanks and positive thoughts for her and her son abounded.
I was struck by one friend who posted “You are the Patriot. Most parents do everything in their power to keep military age children at home.”
I know this person was trying to be nice but the idea that someone would take a group of people, in this case parents, and make a negative assumption about them is troubling to me. Assumptions like this happen all the time and I think it goes to the core of a collective communication discourse in our country that separates all of us.
My nephew, Ryan, also landed in Iraq this week. He has wanted to be a soldier ever since he was a little boy. He tried college for a semester and then decided that the Army Reserve would be a good fit for him and would help him offset his future college expenses.
I know that the way he was pushed in basic training taught him that he could reach deeper than he ever imagined and the forced discipline of the daily process was also a wonderful benefit.
Ryan is the only one of my parent’s seven grandchildren who is currently serving in the military. The other six are either attending college or about to attend college.
I never talked about military service with my oldest son or my daughter. They were so completely focused on college that it wouldn’t have been the best option for them.
My youngest son Sam, who happens to be extremely close to Ryan, could use many of the skills that the military could teach him. I’ve talked about the military several times with him and he has chosen to attend college this year.
I believe that most parents go through this type of process.
As Ryan sits in Iraq and serves his country I am proud of him and scared for him. I don’t think that he considers himself a hero.
The most heroic thing that I have had the honor of seeing Ryan do occurred during his dad’s funeral in June of 2009. While his sister Hilary began to speak about their dad she started to cry. Ryan waited for a moment to let her collect herself and then when she couldn’t, he gracefully approached the podium, put his arm around Hilary and read her words with strength and eloquence.
I am sure that Ryan’s army training came into play in that moment. If he is confronted with a situation that requires grace under pressure in Iraq I know he will respond heroically.
I also know that my friends, family and acquaintances, who are parents, would never do whatever they could to keep their children out of the military. They would simply help their children make the choice that is right for them.
I hope we remember that the majority of the people who live in the United States love this country and when we assume something negative about a particular group it divides us and weakens the country that Ryan is fighting for.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Emergency Ward
Last Sunday morning I received an email from my dad with the title “Emergency Ward” the cryptic note that followed said “Spent last evening at the Blue Hill Hospital. You will have to call your mother to get the details. Dad”
To give you a little background, this past year has been tough on my mom and dad who have been married for almost 58 years. Mom has been battling memory loss and several health issues and my dad battles diabetes, and is still recovering from having is aortic valve replaced in October.
The number of trips to the emergency room has increased at an astronomical rate and my dad’s emails have become more stilted.
As soon as I received the email I called my mom. I was expecting a stressed out response on the other end but my mom answered with a giddy tone to her voice.
“What’s up with dad?” I asked.
“Well”, she giggled.” Your father and I had sex yesterday afternoon and as soon as we were done he had to get up and take a shower.”
Of course I started laughing and I apologize if this is too much information for the reader.
“When he came out of the shower he couldn’t remember anything that had happened all day, except for the sex. I asked him several questions and he couldn’t answer them. I thought he was having a stroke, so I insisted we go to the hospital.”
By the time they got to the hospital they were laughing and when they explained their situation to the hospital staff they were informed that it is rare, but memory loss after sex or intense exercise is something referred to as “transient global amnesia”. Dad’s doctor thinks the episode is related to his diabetes and low blood sugar.
Whatever the reason, it is a testament to my parents and their marriage. Their health is waning, life is more difficult and they are still able to connect in a beautiful, emotional and physical way.
And as I told my mom on the phone, “It’s pretty impressive that after 58 years of marriage you are so good in bed that you can still make dad lose his mind.”
To give you a little background, this past year has been tough on my mom and dad who have been married for almost 58 years. Mom has been battling memory loss and several health issues and my dad battles diabetes, and is still recovering from having is aortic valve replaced in October.
The number of trips to the emergency room has increased at an astronomical rate and my dad’s emails have become more stilted.
As soon as I received the email I called my mom. I was expecting a stressed out response on the other end but my mom answered with a giddy tone to her voice.
“What’s up with dad?” I asked.
“Well”, she giggled.” Your father and I had sex yesterday afternoon and as soon as we were done he had to get up and take a shower.”
Of course I started laughing and I apologize if this is too much information for the reader.
“When he came out of the shower he couldn’t remember anything that had happened all day, except for the sex. I asked him several questions and he couldn’t answer them. I thought he was having a stroke, so I insisted we go to the hospital.”
By the time they got to the hospital they were laughing and when they explained their situation to the hospital staff they were informed that it is rare, but memory loss after sex or intense exercise is something referred to as “transient global amnesia”. Dad’s doctor thinks the episode is related to his diabetes and low blood sugar.
Whatever the reason, it is a testament to my parents and their marriage. Their health is waning, life is more difficult and they are still able to connect in a beautiful, emotional and physical way.
And as I told my mom on the phone, “It’s pretty impressive that after 58 years of marriage you are so good in bed that you can still make dad lose his mind.”
Friday, April 30, 2010
The Gift of Words
I spend a significant amount of time working at being a good parent. I wonder if I am doing enough and I wonder if I am doing too much. I think most parents do the same thing.
This week I received one of those gifts that let me know that I am on the right track. My daughter had an in class writing exercise to do in one of her college classes. They were given writing prompts as they were writing and what follows below is simply a flow of words off the top of her head.
To me it is a gift of words that assures me that I doing OK as a dad and that my daughter is doing great as a human being.
My father is an absolutely hilarious human being. Some may describe him as “ridiculous”, some may describe him as “caring”, and others may describe him as “rude”, but that is precisely what I love about him. He always has some sort of joke (most of the time it’s lame) to fill a void in a conversation. He has the ability to make me laugh hysterically, until I have tears in my eyes. No joke. I can always count on him to make fun of me; to call me out when I am being dramatic, which is often (I have my grandmother’s genetics). I see my father sitting at our kitchen table, typing away (oh, he is awful at typing so it is a wonderful sight to see) on his beat up laptop with duct tape on the edge to stop the screen from freaking out every five minutes. It’s a funny thing; how much he and his laptop have in common. Not the freaking out part, because I honestly can’t remember the last time my father yelled at me, but the part about being a bit different, being a bit “quirky.” I’m not sure if I’m explaining this similarity well, but it is a GOOD thing. Anyway, I see my father there in the kitchen, in his old boxer briefs (pants are always optional in our house), with a hole in the ass because he hasn’t bothered to buy a new pair in about three years (that is so typical dode), and one of his white v-neck t-shirts that Wendy bought him for Christmas. He’s probably typing up another inspirational post for his blog; what he does best.
It’s difficult sometimes to figure out what my dad is thinking about. He is a very complex man. He has strong emotions and he could be thinking some terribly depressing thought but I would never know because he would never let me know. That is what I love about my father; he only wants what’s best for his kids. And if he is having the worst day ever, he would never project that on us. He’s very strong. He can fall down ten times a day, but always manage to get back up and “keep on keepin’ on.” That should be my dad’s bumper sticker or personal phrase or something like that because that truly describes his personality and outlook on life. But anyway, he is thinking back to a time when we were little (us kids); I was maybe four or five. We’re all playing in the backyard of our Pleasant Hill house and he’s out there watching us, thinking “what did I do right? How the hell did I get blessed with the three best children I could ask for?” He has his silly dad grin on, thinking how, no matter what shit he was dealing with at work, or anything else, life couldn’t be better because he has us. Of course, we stressed the hell out of him, especially back then we were little, but he still feels blessed. I think, though, that he shouldn’t wonder how we happened, because it’s all because of him. Of course, the whole sex part, and him and my mom creating us, but it’s my dad that made us so great (my mom did too, of course, but this is about my dad right now). I don’t think parents realize that. They always focus on how great their kids are and what they did to deserve great kids (well, the good parents do at least) but they never really realize that a lot of it is thanks to them. They are what’s so great about us. I highly doubt that I would be as independent as I am today if it wasn’t for my dad ‘s ability to let us do things on our own; he knew that we would figure things out somehow without having his help all the time. I certainly wouldn’t be as resilient as I am today if it wasn’t for my parents’ divorce, I certainly can thank them for that! And I know for a fact, without a doubt, that I would not have the same ridiculous sense of humor if it wasn’t for my dad. Those things affect kids and I am really glad that I had my dad’s influence growing up, over anyone else. God, my dad is great.
This week I received one of those gifts that let me know that I am on the right track. My daughter had an in class writing exercise to do in one of her college classes. They were given writing prompts as they were writing and what follows below is simply a flow of words off the top of her head.
To me it is a gift of words that assures me that I doing OK as a dad and that my daughter is doing great as a human being.
My father is an absolutely hilarious human being. Some may describe him as “ridiculous”, some may describe him as “caring”, and others may describe him as “rude”, but that is precisely what I love about him. He always has some sort of joke (most of the time it’s lame) to fill a void in a conversation. He has the ability to make me laugh hysterically, until I have tears in my eyes. No joke. I can always count on him to make fun of me; to call me out when I am being dramatic, which is often (I have my grandmother’s genetics). I see my father sitting at our kitchen table, typing away (oh, he is awful at typing so it is a wonderful sight to see) on his beat up laptop with duct tape on the edge to stop the screen from freaking out every five minutes. It’s a funny thing; how much he and his laptop have in common. Not the freaking out part, because I honestly can’t remember the last time my father yelled at me, but the part about being a bit different, being a bit “quirky.” I’m not sure if I’m explaining this similarity well, but it is a GOOD thing. Anyway, I see my father there in the kitchen, in his old boxer briefs (pants are always optional in our house), with a hole in the ass because he hasn’t bothered to buy a new pair in about three years (that is so typical dode), and one of his white v-neck t-shirts that Wendy bought him for Christmas. He’s probably typing up another inspirational post for his blog; what he does best.
It’s difficult sometimes to figure out what my dad is thinking about. He is a very complex man. He has strong emotions and he could be thinking some terribly depressing thought but I would never know because he would never let me know. That is what I love about my father; he only wants what’s best for his kids. And if he is having the worst day ever, he would never project that on us. He’s very strong. He can fall down ten times a day, but always manage to get back up and “keep on keepin’ on.” That should be my dad’s bumper sticker or personal phrase or something like that because that truly describes his personality and outlook on life. But anyway, he is thinking back to a time when we were little (us kids); I was maybe four or five. We’re all playing in the backyard of our Pleasant Hill house and he’s out there watching us, thinking “what did I do right? How the hell did I get blessed with the three best children I could ask for?” He has his silly dad grin on, thinking how, no matter what shit he was dealing with at work, or anything else, life couldn’t be better because he has us. Of course, we stressed the hell out of him, especially back then we were little, but he still feels blessed. I think, though, that he shouldn’t wonder how we happened, because it’s all because of him. Of course, the whole sex part, and him and my mom creating us, but it’s my dad that made us so great (my mom did too, of course, but this is about my dad right now). I don’t think parents realize that. They always focus on how great their kids are and what they did to deserve great kids (well, the good parents do at least) but they never really realize that a lot of it is thanks to them. They are what’s so great about us. I highly doubt that I would be as independent as I am today if it wasn’t for my dad ‘s ability to let us do things on our own; he knew that we would figure things out somehow without having his help all the time. I certainly wouldn’t be as resilient as I am today if it wasn’t for my parents’ divorce, I certainly can thank them for that! And I know for a fact, without a doubt, that I would not have the same ridiculous sense of humor if it wasn’t for my dad. Those things affect kids and I am really glad that I had my dad’s influence growing up, over anyone else. God, my dad is great.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Getting back on Your Feet
Yesterday was a beautiful day and as I sat at my computer working and writing I received an email from a friend and colleague that said, “Don't forget to go out and PLAY!”
It was a good wakeup call because I have a tendency to get involved in my writing and working and I don’t always stop to enjoy the day.
So I pulled myself away from the keyboard, threw on my old school running gear and headed out for a run.
I’m fortunate that I live close to a small island connected by a bridge to the mainland.
As I turned on to the wooded trail that winds around the island, trudging along in my running shorts and black sox highlighting my white legs, I looked up to see an attractive young woman running with two teenage girls. As they got closer, I smiled. This act, while running, apparently was too much simultaneous coordination for my middle aged body to handle and I immediately tripped over the root of a tree and dove, face first into the wet, fungal, forest soil.
I laughed, took a second to assess any injuries and then stumbled to my feet in time to acknowledge some comment of concern from the three females as they easily glided past me.
For the next mile I chuckled at myself and thought about all the times that I have fallen in life. The emotional, financial and physical dips that we all endure can be overwhelming as we experience them and empowering as we overcome them.
The falls aren’t what define us. It’s the way that we can get back on our feet on keep running.
It was a good wakeup call because I have a tendency to get involved in my writing and working and I don’t always stop to enjoy the day.
So I pulled myself away from the keyboard, threw on my old school running gear and headed out for a run.
I’m fortunate that I live close to a small island connected by a bridge to the mainland.
As I turned on to the wooded trail that winds around the island, trudging along in my running shorts and black sox highlighting my white legs, I looked up to see an attractive young woman running with two teenage girls. As they got closer, I smiled. This act, while running, apparently was too much simultaneous coordination for my middle aged body to handle and I immediately tripped over the root of a tree and dove, face first into the wet, fungal, forest soil.
I laughed, took a second to assess any injuries and then stumbled to my feet in time to acknowledge some comment of concern from the three females as they easily glided past me.
For the next mile I chuckled at myself and thought about all the times that I have fallen in life. The emotional, financial and physical dips that we all endure can be overwhelming as we experience them and empowering as we overcome them.
The falls aren’t what define us. It’s the way that we can get back on our feet on keep running.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Coaching Kids
Coaching kids; I have always loved it and I have some great stories to tell about my experiences doing it.
I think kids know immediately when a coach is full of crap and trying too hard to win. They instinctively move away and stop listening when they feel a coach trying too hard. Just to illustrate my point the following story will tell you how I did just that.
Back when my daughter, Kourtney, was seven I became the head coach of her travel soccer team. I think they had 3 teams, A, B, and C at her level and we were the “C” team.
We were supposed to only carry 12 kids on our “official” roster. However, I have never been one to “officially” do anything. I just wanted kids to play so we carried 14 kids (please don’t report me) on our roster ranging in age from 7 to 9. Actually, we also had a really cute, red-haired; left footed six year old because her dad was coaching her sister on one of the other teams..shssss.. don’t tell anyone!
I grew up playing “kick the can” and that is as close as I ever got to soccer. Like “kick the can”, my philosophy was that everyone played and hopefully no one felt left out.
As the season progressed the girls and their parents all seemed to be enjoying the season except that at the midway point we hadn’t won a game and we hadn’t scored a goal!
I understood that I was working with young girls and if they didn’t care I shouldn’t care, BUT I was a successful college athlete and one of my very close friends tells me that I, during my high testosterone youth, was one of the most competitive people he has ever known. In fact, I think he said I was THE most competitive person he has ever known.
So we’re half way through the season, we have a big tournament coming up and I can feel myself begin to channel Vince Lombardi. Yes, I know that Vince coached football but other than Pele’ I don’t know anyone even remotely “legendary” on the professional soccer side.
We start the first game of this illustrious youth soccer tournament in Buxton, Maine and all the girls come out of the game as I make the changes saying, “They are stepping on our toes!”
What?! How the hell can anyone step on your toes if you are actually running?! Now, I didn’t express myself that way. In a very politically correct way I said, “If you keep running they can’t step on your toes!”
At halftime we’re down 3-0 and I can’t take it anymore. I get down on my knees, with fourteen 6 through 9 year-old girls around me in a horseshoe and I begin THE SPEECH. I can feel my speech pattern accelerating and my volume increasing with each word that bloviates from my mouth. In fact, I actually had an out of body experience where I was looking down at myself and thinking, “Wow, you are simply an amazing coach.”
At the end of my life defining speech, as I begin to catch my bad and over excited breath, I ask the girls “So does anyone have any questions?” I scan the faces placed in the horseshoe around me from left to right and as I get to the end I see the hand of the one young woman who has been standing right next to my ear and really gets it!
“Yes, Hope”, I say, waiting for her reply that will instantly place me in the pantheon of great youth coaches, “What is your question?”
Every kid is waiting for her question and listening for my response as she says,” Mr. Bonsey, you have a lot of crud in your ear!”
I fell on the ground laughing, realizing that kids just want to participate. They don’t care about winning. It is just adult jerks like me that think they want to win.
Seeing me laugh made the girls laugh and relax and they went out and scored their first 3 goals of the season.
We still lost but I learned a big lesson. LET THE KIDS PLAY!
I think kids know immediately when a coach is full of crap and trying too hard to win. They instinctively move away and stop listening when they feel a coach trying too hard. Just to illustrate my point the following story will tell you how I did just that.
Back when my daughter, Kourtney, was seven I became the head coach of her travel soccer team. I think they had 3 teams, A, B, and C at her level and we were the “C” team.
We were supposed to only carry 12 kids on our “official” roster. However, I have never been one to “officially” do anything. I just wanted kids to play so we carried 14 kids (please don’t report me) on our roster ranging in age from 7 to 9. Actually, we also had a really cute, red-haired; left footed six year old because her dad was coaching her sister on one of the other teams..shssss.. don’t tell anyone!
I grew up playing “kick the can” and that is as close as I ever got to soccer. Like “kick the can”, my philosophy was that everyone played and hopefully no one felt left out.
As the season progressed the girls and their parents all seemed to be enjoying the season except that at the midway point we hadn’t won a game and we hadn’t scored a goal!
I understood that I was working with young girls and if they didn’t care I shouldn’t care, BUT I was a successful college athlete and one of my very close friends tells me that I, during my high testosterone youth, was one of the most competitive people he has ever known. In fact, I think he said I was THE most competitive person he has ever known.
So we’re half way through the season, we have a big tournament coming up and I can feel myself begin to channel Vince Lombardi. Yes, I know that Vince coached football but other than Pele’ I don’t know anyone even remotely “legendary” on the professional soccer side.
We start the first game of this illustrious youth soccer tournament in Buxton, Maine and all the girls come out of the game as I make the changes saying, “They are stepping on our toes!”
What?! How the hell can anyone step on your toes if you are actually running?! Now, I didn’t express myself that way. In a very politically correct way I said, “If you keep running they can’t step on your toes!”
At halftime we’re down 3-0 and I can’t take it anymore. I get down on my knees, with fourteen 6 through 9 year-old girls around me in a horseshoe and I begin THE SPEECH. I can feel my speech pattern accelerating and my volume increasing with each word that bloviates from my mouth. In fact, I actually had an out of body experience where I was looking down at myself and thinking, “Wow, you are simply an amazing coach.”
At the end of my life defining speech, as I begin to catch my bad and over excited breath, I ask the girls “So does anyone have any questions?” I scan the faces placed in the horseshoe around me from left to right and as I get to the end I see the hand of the one young woman who has been standing right next to my ear and really gets it!
“Yes, Hope”, I say, waiting for her reply that will instantly place me in the pantheon of great youth coaches, “What is your question?”
Every kid is waiting for her question and listening for my response as she says,” Mr. Bonsey, you have a lot of crud in your ear!”
I fell on the ground laughing, realizing that kids just want to participate. They don’t care about winning. It is just adult jerks like me that think they want to win.
Seeing me laugh made the girls laugh and relax and they went out and scored their first 3 goals of the season.
We still lost but I learned a big lesson. LET THE KIDS PLAY!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)