Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXLV

Have you ever heard the old cliche', "Like father, like son," or "Like mother, like daughter?" Have you ever looked around and observed just how accurate those phrases are? Think about it. If Dad is a cowboy, chances are, the son will be a cowboy; if Mom loves to shop, chances are, the daughter will love to shop. That can be a good thing or it can be a bad thing. Today I want to focus on one aspect of that old saying. If Mom and Dad grow up in poverty, chances are, the kids will do the same. I'm of the opinion that if we want to eradicate poverty, we have to start with young children, with the understanding that it will take a generation to begin seeing results. I believe much of it depends on the expectations that parents have for their children. Although colleges and universities have been around for centuries, it has just been in recent years that the percentages of students who attend them have risen to the levels they are today, especially in the more rural areas of our country. As a matter of fact, during the period of time that my parents grew up, not many in their area even received a high school diploma. Neither my dad nor my mom had a high school education. Looking back at my ancestral up line, as far as I know, my generation was the first ones to attain college degrees. I now have two adult children, both of whom have university degrees, but I never thought for one second that they wouldn't...it's what I expected of them. The children of educated parents are highly more likely to receive a degree than those from uneducated parents. What about those who live in poverty, depending on the government for survival? More than likely, the majority of them will grow up the same way, mainly because it's the only life they know. Until we figure out a way to intervene in the lives of these children so that we can teach them that EACH ONE of them can have a better life, that cycle will never be broken. That will be a major undertaking, due to the fact that a child's home life has the biggest impact on his/her future. Every parent who loves his children will want to see them become more successful than he has been, and in the cases where that wish comes true, those children were taught basic work ethics and the basic principle "Where there's a will, there's a way." It disturbs me when I hear school teachers talk about some of their students, and the type of atmosphere they have in their homes. All I can do is shake my head and say, "Those kids don't have a chance at life." And the trouble is, when they grow up, their kids will be in the same boat...just one big vicious cycle. I wish I could tell you that I have the answer, but I'd be lying. However, I'm thoroughly convinced that more government handouts are not the answer. In fact, in my opinion, that's part of the problem. Since today we seem to be stuck on using old cliche's, let's end with this one: "There ain't no free lunch." Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXLIV

She was a beautiful lady. As a matter of fact, she still is. With some of my friends, I can still remember the day we met, especially if there was some type of unusual circumstance associated with that meeting, and others I don't recall at all. With her, that circumstance was there, so I remember it. We ended up with adjoining booths at a trade show and on that first morning of the show, we had introduced ourselves and then each of us went back to work. She then received a call from her husband and walked out of the area for the conversation. She came back just minutes later with tears in her eyes, and said to me, "I have to go home." There had been a tragedy back home, and a family member was not expected to survive the next twenty-four hours. I still recall how my heart went out to her as she packed up and started out on that long seven hour trip back home. In the three or four years after that first meeting, I would see her at various trade shows about four times a year, and although we never became close friends, I guess you could say we were friendly acquaintances, never having more than five to ten minute conversations at a time. Then our paths went different directions, and I never saw her again....until yesterday. As in the old days, it was at a trade show. I was sitting in my booth when she walked by. I looked up, and we recognized each other at the same time. She stopped for a chat, and we had our normal five minute conversation before she moved on. So, what's the big deal? Why is this worth talking about? Well, it has to do with what was going on in my mind during our brief dialogue. I hope it wasn't apparent that I was somewhat distracted while we were talking, but I definitely was. It was light conversation, mainly about business, but when we had been chatting about a minute, the thought occurred to me that if I had just been meeting her for the first time, I would view her as an older woman. My next thought was that if we hadn't gone a few years without seeing each other, I wouldn't have noticed how much she had aged. I have no doubt whatsoever that she had the same type thoughts about me, but I don't notice it so much on myself, because I look in the mirror every day and gradual changes are not as noticeable. The thing that gets my attention the most is when I look at a picture of myself from about ten years ago and see how much younger I looked back then, but it's easier to accept anything as long as it's brought about on a gradual basis. I'm not gonna mention my friend's name for obvious reasons, but I have to wonder if those changes in her that I saw are as obvious to her as they were to me. Now, please refer back to the first two sentences of this article. I always viewed her as a very attractive lady, but here we are years later and I still do. That may have something to do with the fact that as my body has gradually aged over the years, my tastes have too. One of the main things about my wife that attracted me to her when we first met forty-two years ago was her beauty, but I've seen her most every day since then. I feel certain that she has aged over the years just like I have, but if she has, I haven't noticed. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXLIII

Today's article is as much a conversation with myself as it is a message to others. I guess you could say I'm "Thinking Out Loud." It's just that I have a decision to make, and the time to do so is now. Although this is being written specifically for today, and will give the impression that I'm writing it the same day that you're reading it, in actuality, it was written more than two weeks ago. They say you're not supposed to shop for groceries when you're hungry, and you shouldn't discipline your children or have family discussions when you're angry; so if that's true, I probably should not try to make decisions about physical activity while I'm sick...like I am at the time of this writing. I have severe sinus congestion and a sore throat, and all I want to do stay in my recliner, so the thought of any type of physical activity sounds horrible to me right now. Back to the present: Hopefully I'm feeling better by now, and I'm excited about the fact that we're about to board a plane to Chicago for a fun-filled weekend with friends and family. We do this on a regular basis, and it's always so much fun spending time with people that I love, but it's the primary purpose of the trip that's putting me in this decision-making mode. We're going to run a marathon (26.2 miles). Here's my dilemma: I just don't know how many more marathons I want to run. First of all, I'm not even considering quitting running or discontinuing these trips...that's all a part of who I am and what I love. I've told you before that there will probably come a day when I'll decide to cut back to half marathons (13.1 miles), and I think that time may be now. When Mark Twain was born, Halley's Comet was making its appearance, and he once said "I rode in on Halley's Comet, and when it comes back, I'll ride out on it." That turned out to be a true statement. My first full marathon was Chicago, and it just seems fitting that it also be my last. It's amazing to watch people and their range of emotions as they cross the finish line of their first marathon, with many of them bursting into tears. I can only say that I felt a mixture of pure elation and touch of disappointment because, although my wife and a few friends were in the crowd watching for me, there were so many runners crossing the line at the same time, they couldn't pick me out of the crowd and didn't see me finish. The elation came because I had accomplished a goal that I once thought was out of reach. I no longer had to wonder, "Can I do it?"....I had done it! Since then, it has been an awesome ride. This journey has taken me to places such as Nashville, Washington, DC, Dallas, New Orleans, Jackson, Mobile, Philadelphia, and Minneapolis/St. Paul....and some of these cities multiple times. If I count half marathons, I can also add Ft. Worth, Oklahoma City, and Portland, Maine. As I look forward to next spring, I see half marathon trips to Little Rock, Arkansas and Fargo, North Dakota. Training for and running a full marathon is a commitment, and it's something you have to WANT to do....because you have the desire and weren't just talked into it by someone else. Who knows? I may change my mind a dozen times over the next few years, but as of now, this Sunday will be my last one. I no longer have that desire. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXLII

Sometimes I look at Lake and Lennon, my two little grandchildren, and I wonder if it's even possible for a stronger love to exist than what I have for them. They are six and two respectively, so they are still at ages where they are completely dependent on adults for their care and supervision. Fortunately for them, they were born to an intelligent set of parents who would be willing to give everything, including their lives, for the sake of their children, which means I can go to bed at night without worrying about how they will be cared for in their home. I can only wish the same set of circumstances held true for every child in America...or the world. You see, some children, through no fault of their own, were born into families where the degree of love of which I've been speaking is just not present. I've often wondered how I would react if I knew that Lake and Lennon were being physically abused, but I believe I can get some idea of what my reaction would be when I think of how angry it makes me to hear of kids I don't even know who are being tormented by those who are supposed to be their caregivers. As I mentioned earlier, when they are very young, like mine are, they are totally dependent on adults for their survival, which means that they have to trust their parents and grandparents with their very lives. If a child can't even trust their own parents or grandparents, what kind of chances do they have at life? Though they are sometimes difficult to enforce, there are laws on the books to protect innocent children from adults who would physically abuse them, but unfortunately, those laws only cover "physical abuse." In my opinion, there is another type of abuse that can have just as devastating and long-lasting effects on children, and that is verbal abuse. I'm not an attorney, so I can't speak with authority on what laws exist and what they cover, but I believe verbal abuse would be much more difficult to control. The trouble is, words may be even more damaging to the future of a child than clubs would be...and it doesn't take many destructive words to do the job. Earlier today, I was thinking about times in my life when I've received compliments and other times when I've been told how badly I've performed. (I'm talking about what I've heard from people in general, not my parents.) To my dismay, it seems like the ones I remember most vividly are the words that hurt, but I believe that is human nature. If I'm that way as an adult, how much more true it must be for a child. It makes me want to pray every morning, "Dear Lord, please help me guard my tongue today so that I don't say anything that would destroy the confidence of any child. Instead, let my mouth speak words that build and encourage." As far as Lake and Lennon are concerned, when they are in my home under my care, there will be times when I will have to give them words of correction and instruction, but they will be done with love and with directions on how to do right. Furthermore, they will hear me tell them that they can be anything they want to be. It doesn't matter that one of them was born with special needs....she can be anything she wants to be. I'm so thankful God gave them to us, and I have to also say, thank God they have the parents they have. The opportunities for those two precious children are limitless....they have a family that is gonna see to it. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXLI

Don't try to tell me our troops aren't brave. I know better. Don't try to tell me our troops aren't scared out of their wits when they're in the heat of battle. I know better. So that leads to the question, "Is it possible to be scared and brave at the same time?" Let's think about this and see what we come up with. Now please keep in mind that what I have to say is strictly my opinion and not some scientific explanation that I've researched. First of all, we'll discuss the word "fear." I personally believe that all living creatures experience fear at various times throughout their lives, and that's because fear is a God-given instinct that aids in self preservation. Without it, we would constantly be walking into life threatening situations with absolutely no apprehension whatsoever, resulting in much shorter life spans for man and beast alike. Therefore, fear is healthy. It prolongs our lives. So, what is courage? Is it the absence of fear? Not at all. I think John Wayne said it best when he said, "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway." As a child, I had some misconceptions about fear and courage, and I often wonder if others looked at it the same way I did. I thought fear and courage were opposites, but I was wrong. We can have fear and courage at the same time. My dad was one of the soldiers who stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-Day during World War II, and not long before he passed away, he told me how scared he was as they were running up onto land, but they kept running. That's courage, my friend. There's no way anyone could convince me that Todd Beamer and his cohorts on Flight 93 felt no fear as they purposely crashed that plane into that Pennsylvania field on September 11, 2001, but that fear didn't stop them from doing what was right. What about the firemen who rushed INTO the burning towers in New York that same day as others were rushing out? Surely they were experiencing fear. So if fear is not the opposite of courage, then what is? I think the best antonym for courage is "cowardice." A coward is someone who allows his fear to prevent him from being brave. Instead of controlling his fear, he lets his fear control him. When we are rearing our children, it's good to make them understand danger and to have a healthy fear of it; yet at the same time, we teach them courage by showing them that there are times when we have to hold our heads up and walk straight into scary situations. Those lessons are taught by example. It may be something as simple as, "I know it's frightening being the new kid at school, but we have to do it anyway." One other point: Notice that I've used the term, "healthy fear." Being a person of courage doesn't mean we take unnecessary risks. There's another word for that, which we'll get into later. God gave us a brain for a reason. Let's use it. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXL

As a child, I used to love to listen to my grandparents as they would tell me about the "good old days." (Or is it supposed to be "good ole days?" I never really learned for sure which one is correct.) It never occurred to me to question exactly what period of time the good old days took place, so all I knew was they had ended some time before I came along. I felt cheated because I had been born much too late to be able to experience such a romantic period of history. After all, they got to ride in a horse drawn wagon everywhere they went, while we had to travel in a car. Besides that, they got to do fun things like pick cotton by hand, and chop firewood, yet my parents made me do such horrible chores as sitting on the porch shelling peas and butter beans. It was a disgrace, I tell you. That brings us back to our main question: When did the good old days take place? I can remember my parents laughing when my younger brother asked my dad if he was alive back in the old days, but I couldn't understand what was funny about it. I thought it was a legitimate question. Since I'm nearing the period of life where I can be referred to as a senior citizen, I've started giving some thought to the good old days and what I missed out on. One of the first things that comes to mind is if I had lived back in that period of time, I'd be dead by now. That thought takes some of the appeal away from the good old days. Then I started thinking about the things I've experienced that would seem to my grandparents like science fiction. For instance, there was one day not too long ago when I ate breakfast at my house in Louisiana, ate lunch in Salina, Kansas, and was back home again for dinner...all the same day. Just this morning, I participated in a conference call with colleagues from around the country, and when I would speak, my voice was heard by co-workers in practically every corner of the United States. Those are just two examples of things I've experienced that the people from the good old days couldn't even dream of. So...again I ask, when were the good old days? Let me tell you why my mind has been on this topic. Just a few nights ago, Lake, my six year old grandson, was spending the night at our house, and at bedtime, he asked, "Poppa, will you lie down with me and tell me a story before you go to bed?" "Sure," I replied, "What story do you want to hear?" He responded, "I like it when you tell me about when you were a little boy." That's when it occurred to me that, although he didn't use those exact terms, he was wanting to hear about the good old days. "That's it!" I thought. "Now I know the exact period of time that's known as 'the good old days.' It's any period of time in history, other than the present." You see, today is not one of the good old days. But when today becomes tomorrow, it will be, and the further we move away from today, the more it qualifies to be called a good old day. Today Lake is just a little boy in a great big world, but many years from now when I'm long gone and he has assumed the position I now hold as "Poppa," it will dawn on him that, although it doesn't seem like it at the time, this period of time we're experiencing right now will be the "good old days" for his offspring. I guess the words to that song are true after all: "These are the good old days." Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXXXIX

When you drive through a school zone, especially during the intervals of time between 7:00 & 9:00 am and 2:00 & 4:00 pm, you're supposed to slow down. It's the law, and there's a pretty steep penalty if you choose to disobey. It should be obvious to anyone why that law is in place. So....do you slow down in school zones? I think we all know it's the right thing to do, but what if there was no speed limit or penalties for not reducing your speed? Would you still slow down anyway? As children, most of us were taught right from wrong. And, for most of us, as part of the learning process, we received some type of punishment when we did wrong. The purpose for that punitive action was to get us ready for adulthood when there would no longer be someone there to watch over us, making sure we always did the right thing. The ideal situation would be that all adults would choose to do what's right, thus making many of the laws we have on the books unnecessary. It's apparent that we don't live in an ideal world. Sometimes I ask myself what kind of person I would be if there was no penalty for doing wrong. Is fear of punishment the driving force behind my title as a law abiding citizen? I'm the type of man that many people refer to as a "devout Christian." Why? Do I live this life because it's the best way to live, or because I fear Hell? If it's the latter, I'm afraid I may have a flaw in my motivation. Can I honestly say I love God if my primary purpose for obeying Him is a fear of what will happen to me if I don't? Do I love God or am I simply scared of Him? If my relationship with God is based on fear, then my motivation is selfishness....all about me. If I'm a believer of the Bible, which I am, then I have to believe in Heaven and Hell, but as I meditate on the points I've just mentioned, I firmly believe that if there was no Heaven to gain or Hell to shun, I would still want to live the kind of life I live. Just like everybody else I know, I still mess up so much more than I care to discuss, but I really feel that the reason I strive to be the man I need to be is simply because it's the right thing to do. If I speed through the school zone, I'll have to pay a fine. If I get caught shoplifting, I may have to spend a few days in jail. If I rob a bank or commit rape, I may have to go to prison for several years. So....I don't do those things. However, if all those penalties are removed, I'm still not gonna commit those acts, because my parents brought me up in "the way I should go," and when I became older, I didn't "depart from it." I want to live right simply because it's a better life than living wrong. Preston