Pep Talk: "Nothing Like Eye Candy"

“It’s a burden having to be eye candy for the weekend. Wish me luck!”

With those parting words your scribe bid adios to the man transporting this aging jock for a pre-dawn flight. It eventually landed a knucklehead in Miami for a rendezvous with darling wife who happens to be a business dynamo. Each year my boss is part of the host team for her company’s “All Star” weekend that honors and rewards high-achieving underlings.

I always show up for the weekend, thus the “eye candy” joke.

Anyway, the conversation with the friendly driver on the way to DIA in the darkness of night centered around the darkness of what transpired in a movie theatre in nearby Aurora, Colorado in 2012. Unimaginable and heinous actions led to tragic death, debilitating injury and devastating emotional damage.

A friend, Marcus Weaver, was present that night. Lost a dear friend to a mad man’s carnage, was shot twice himself and testified on the third day of the trial to determine one thing: Was the perpetrator sane or insane?

It was weird to sit so close to someone so docile and expressionless and fathom that within, buried from sight, resides a troubled spirit. I personally think he was sane but that’s a topic for another day.

What struck me powerfully in court and triggered the conversation in the ride to the airport, was a somber reminder about human beings. Me. You. Everybody. Within us lies tremendous power for good and evil.

Person after person testified. Victims and first responders. The stories of heroism, as badly wounded folks worked alongside firefighters, police and paramedics to save the gravely injured, tore at my heart. I wept in admiration. Then eyes would wander to the accused. Nothing suggested the heartbreaking and powerful testimony stirred any emotion. Spooky.

A few days later I led a group discussion during an A Stronger Cord “Hang Out” session centered around the truth that within us lies a broad range of capabilities, from insane to humane.

The conversation focused on how to stay rooted in the latter, not the former. We all have our stuff. We are products of environments providing good and bad. We talked about nurturing the positive and starving the negative.

Two rivals, battling for our souls. Who is gonna win? This simple dude from Raytown, Missouri was blessed to grow up in a community that encouraged hard work, healthy choices and respect for others. Beneficial. I also grew up in a family environment that fostered all that but tolerated enabling and co-dependency. Damaging.

Insanity and Humanity. Products of our environments. Each, certainly, a part of my DNA. Perhaps, yours too? Which will we feed? This week, feast on the good. Cherish life, knowing it can change in an instant. Seek a stronger cord to humanity and run like heck from insanity.

It is ugly and, from my vantage point inside a courtroom, looks nothing like eye candy.

Pep Talk: "Free, Available and Embraced!"

Friday mornings hanging out with a bunch of knuckleheads challenging one another to grow stronger in faith is rarely boring, if ever. I hope to do it until this simple dude from Missouri croaks. It energizes my spirit.

To sit in a room with, usually, 12-16 other dudes from all walks of life, with all types of stories of praise and predicament is inspiring. It’s like a football team. It’s fascinating, and gives an aging jock who loves to write plenty of material.

The weekly Platoon meeting is a blessing.

Anyway, I’m sitting there recently, settling into my chair, in possession of one doughnut snatched from the passing box, when one of the dudes starts talking about a story that would have made a hilarious skit on Saturday Night Live.

In a nutshell, this man, who is beaming about the recent birth of a baby daughter, apparently was trying to retrieve a dog before it ran onto a heavily traveled road. Somebody else (if I got the facts straight, a nephew about ten years old) was also in hot pursuit and determined to capture the canine from harm’s way.

In the fervent dash, somehow story-telling dude slipped. Quickly, but awkwardly, the gentle soul jumped to his feet and hurt an ankle. But there was a dog to save. Press on. Somehow, someway, despite the pain, the buddy sharing the story soldiered on. Dog is rescued. Ankle is broken.

The kind-of-guy you’d want your daughter to marry has been away from the group, at home bonding with wife and baby girl. He wraps up the hilarious - I didn’t do it much justice - story about rescue and rehabilitation with this gem, concerning a rapid recovery from injury: “I don’t know if it was prayer or Percocet. But it was quick.”

Bam. The final line hit me like a linebacker from the blind side. Prayer or Percocet? We all have pain in life, right? Things rarely go as planned? The big ol’ question that must always be answered?  “How we gonna deal with this roller coaster we call life?”

Just my opinion, but how about, “Are we gonna mask the pain with Percocet, or endure it with prayer?” Or, as in buddy’s case, apparently a mixture of the two? The mind wonders about definitions while the hand reaches for the dictionary.

Oxford says that “mask” means “anything that disguises or conceals.” Same source says endure means “patiently bear hardship or pain.” It sure seems we’d be better off dealing with life’s challenges by choosing endure over mask.

This week, let’s patiently bear hardship or pain and not disguise or conceal it. Let’s be real. “Percocet or prayer?” Mask or endure? A buddy’s humorous statement was a powerful reminder. Sometimes each is necessary. However, the latter choices, prayer and endure, seem better. 

They’re free, abundantly available and widely embraced as being good for us!

Pep Talk: "Flight Delay Delight!"

When was the last time you were stuck on an airplane, ready to depart when, suddenly,  a solemn voice offers. “We have a mechanical issue.” It’s a bummer ain’t it? Folks, deplaning to change flights, others staying on board wondering if they can make connections. Stuck. It sucks.

What to do? Well, this aging jock bore deeper in the the morning newspaper. What to wandering eyes appeared? A story that served as a powerful reminder to a simple, but very difficult, truth to embrace. The importance of forgiveness. Nobody wins when we carry a grudge, especially us.

The wonderful reminder came from a Denver Post story read while darling wife and your humble scribe were trying to get to Florida. A much anticipated weekend of celebrating birthdays for this knucklehead and younger brother’s amazing bride. It was one tick closer to six decades for me and a milestone moment for Susan. I’ll let her share the number.

Anyway, I’m sitting on an airplane, waiting and reading. Many remaining on board are yakking away on mobile phones. The woman in the seat directly ahead tells her two boys: “You start school 90-minutes late today. Tell your dad.”

A story in the “Denver & The West” section catches the eye and bores into soul. Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, say hi to Eva Mozes Kor. The 81-year-old Auschwitz survivor had spoken the night before at an event in Denver. The keynote speaker, at the Anti-Defamation League’s 34th annual Governor’s Holocaust Remembrance Program, talked about a decision made 20 years ago that transformed her life.

Mozes Kor and her family were detained at Auschwitz. Nazi doctors performed experiments on her and other family members. A half decade later, in 1995, Mozes Kor returned to the site. Surprising even herself, the founder of CANDLES: Children of Auschwitz Nazi Deadly Lab Experiments Survivors, asked to speak with one of the still-living doctors who performed the tests. The two met.

“I discovered I had a power; no one could take it away from me, and no one could stop it.” said the auburn-haired warrior. It was the power of forgiveness. In retrospect, the also-founder of  the Indiana-based Holocaust and Education Center, says she just “stumbled upon it” and wishes the restorative spirit would have appeared sooner.

Mozes Kor lectures occasionally but the message remains constant. She implores  audience members to embrace the choice made 20 years ago, forgive. In Hebrew, “teshura” is a word used to describe the difficult but necessary mindest.

“You can say anything you wish in a letter, but at the end you have to say, ‘I forgive you’ and you have to mean it,” stated Mozes Kor. “That is what sets you free.”

Amen sister.

An amazing woman figures out a way to let go. To say “teshura” and refuse to be stuck in anger, resentment and rage against perpetrators, or self, for the atrocities endured.

What a flight-delay delight. This week, follow Mozes Kor example. Teshura!