Pep Talk: "Show Up"

It’s Wednesday about an hour before lunchtime, the house is reverberating. It’s not an earthquake, rare in the Centennial State. No, it’s a dude born in Iowa, our daughters are high-school volleyball teammates, tearing up my bathroom and rattling the abode’s bones. He’s hammering, pounding and sawing ferociously. Bullet the cat is skittish, your humble correspondent is laboring. 

While buddy plays Rambo on a tired master bath, I’m scrambling to remove pictures and other cherished family artifacts falling from shelves and walls in the sleeping area adjacent to ground zero. It makes me pause to savor heart-warming memories of children, parents, loved ones and their impact on my life. A nice respite from the daily, mundane, “stuff” dominating brain matter these days.

So we’re working away, radio blaring in the background, and talking about many things, including our teenage daughters, the volleyball teammates. Our precious princesses are pretty darn good and their two old jock dads enjoy hanging together and watching them compete.

Back to the story. I’m grasping savored memories, including, but not limited to, the following:  a picture of the kids with a wonderful couple who lived next door, we socialized often, and now call Rhode Island home;  two fabulous human beings and their old man - me - whitewater rafting in Jackson Hole, Wyoming; a framed copy of the scorecard from the first and, to this point, only hole-in-one from a life-long love of golf - a well-struck seven-iron from 165 yards for those scoring at home. Staring at these reminders of life bathe soul with joy and gratefulness.

Trying to stay focused, the point is this: The house is falling apart and it is good, except for a frazzled feline. Two dads working together to build a better bath, talking about our daughters’ volleyball and, although it remained unspoken, oozing hope each of these hard-working athletes gains, from sports, as much joy, satisfaction and discipline as their, these days “weird”, fathers extracted from the thrill of victory, agony of defeat and everything in between.

The mind wanders to the wonderful support received while chasing personal athletic dreams.  Thanks mom for always getting me to practice on time and making sure nobody’s uniform was cleaner than mine. Everywhere I roamed in Raytown, Missouri, a southeast Kansas City suburb, and beyond, parents, coaches and many others challenged me to “be the best I could be.” Victory Productions, almost a half century later, calls that “playing like a champion.” Different phrases but, my opinion, synonymous.

Watching those we love and admire compete in healthy and productive endeavors. Time well spent. Then a reminder hits with the force of a Colorado hail storm:  The importance of supporting others in their pursuit of noble dreams and goals. Not just in athletics, but music, the arts, academics, science - whatever. Maybe it’s visiting someone who is lonely, ill or in a funk that’s left them wondering, “What the heck is going on around here?”

Let’s make sure we encourage someone this week with our physical presence. You just never know what kind of impact it may have. I can only speak from personal experience but, long ago, folks back home made a difference for me. You?

Let’s make sure we show up for someone, okay? Dang, gotta run, the boss is hollering for me to show up and haul off some junk. The daydreaming’s over but let’s remember the importance of showing up never ceases.

Have a good week!