Saturday, January 23, 2010
All The World's a Stage
Click on the player to listen to a podcast of this blog.
Seven Ages of Man
by William Shakespeare
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
This is another episode of “Literature Out Loud” from the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Host Dane Allred reads "The Seven Ages of Man" by William Shakespeare from "As You Like It". This selection is is also available at daneallred.podbean.com. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Birthday Bash
Click on the player to hear a podcast of this blog.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred
Birthday Bash
Okay, it time for another birthday. I was kind of excited when I found out I would be on the air on my birthday. I checked to see how many years it would be before my birthday would be on a Sunday again, and it won’t be until 2016. I think this is because of leap year, since it should happen in seven years instead of six. But I don’t know what I’m going to be doing in six years, so we may as well celebrate it together. I don’t want phone calls or congratulations, because I have officially become an old fart.
We don’t like to be reminded of our age. I’m fifty-two, and I don’t need another solicitation from AARP to join. I don’t need any more gray hair, and I don’t need more nose and ear hair, but it seems that is what is destined for the future. I don’t want to be asked if I want the senior discount, and even worse, I don’t plan on retiring. Ever.
There are a couple of reasons. I don’t expect Social Security or even my pensions to be around when I’m old enough to collect them. I know my wife won’t let me retire, and to tell the truth, I don’t think I’ll let myself retire either.
The Social Security promise was made when hardly anyone lived to be 65. Now almost all of us will make it. What does that mean? As there are more of us retirees, it will take more people working to support us since none of the money is actually saved for us anywhere. Back in the fifty’s, 16 people paid for one person’s retirement. Now it’s down to about 3.3 workers paying for one person. Soon it might be 2 people working to pay my retirement. I hope those two people are making lots of money.
I feel the same way about my pension. It’s much too tempting for fat cats to run off with that accumulated money. Call me a pessimist about retirement, but it really doesn’t bother me. I’ll just keeping working.
My wife will make sure of that. I have been informed she wants to be living in the future in the “manner to which she has become accustomed”. This doesn’t really leave much room in my future for retiring on a reduced income. I know that when we are home on the weekends I spend a lot more than I do when I am working. Here’s an example from last Saturday. I had an audition and invited my wife to go along to the big city. I thought maybe we could have lunch. The audition took so long she called the daughter who lives there, and invited her to come eat with us. Her friend was also invited. That was a seventy-five dollar meal. Then mom became worried our daughter is a starving student, so we then made a trip to the grocery store. Sixty-eight dollars. We had to get gas for the car, and stop at that excellent bakery on the way home. Thirty more dollars. I’m not brave enough to total the cost.
When I spend the day at work, I might spend a couple of bucks for gas, a couple for breakfast and a couple more for lunch. I might even earn more money than I spend. At least that’s the way it’s supposed to work. But when we are out and about, the money disappears. Retirement would only be a daily drain on the cash.
Finally, I really don’t want to retire. I really do hope to be able to do the things I do now until they carry me out of the room. I teach, I act, I write, and generally perform every day of my life. Why would I want to stop? I know I will slow down, and I might not be able to do all the things I “used ta could”, but I am amazed at how productive my life has become. I have heard that your fifty’s and sixty’s are supposed to be your most productive years. So far, well, at least two years in, I do believe I am the most productive I’ve ever been. At least I feel like I’m working harder than I ever have before.
I feel kind of like that rat on the treadmill. The only problem is the treadmill seems to trail forever behind me, and I’m falling behind a couple of inches every day. I wonder what happens when I fall off the end?
So I probably won’t retire. I really don’t want to, but we don’t always get what we want. Between financial demands and the need for attention, I think I could do this for another fifty-two years. Well, maybe just fifty.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Floor It
Click on player to hear a podcast of this blog.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred
Floor It
One of the reasons I believe we live in abundance is I look around and see so many wonderful things in this world. Even the mundane things we take for granted everyday are miracles compared with only 100 years ago. I thought about this as I was driving with dozens of other people on one of our modern freeways. Someone thought most of us were going to slow, and as he zoomed past me I marveled at the fact something like this was even possible.
We live in a society where affordable and dependable transportation is available to nearly every one who needs it. Where I live a car is almost a necessity, but there is also public transportation available for those who need to get from here to there. We even have “on demand” transportation for those people who may not be able to use a bus or a train. But the point is, we can get from A to B and make a living, make a purchase, or visit those far away.
When you thing about it, a car shouldn’t really be necessary for someone to work, but out here in the wide open spaces, there is definitely a need for many people. For example, my work involves driving twenty miles south. There is a bus which could get me there, but twice a week I also need to travel north thirty miles for one of my part-time jobs. Once a week I make a trip here to the radio station, and there really isn’t public transportation available on the weekend from where I live to where the radio station is. So for the purposes of everything I do, some kind of dependable transportation is a necessity. Multiply that by the thousands of people who work every day, and there will also be a need for roads and ways to keep all of us crazy drivers safe.
I really don’t think it will change any time soon, but I am looking forward to the cars that climb up the sides of buildings like in Minority Report. The cars drive themselves and with the help of computer controls, the traffic should be much better. But there is something to be said for being caught in a traffic jam. When the freeway turns into a parking lot, I like looking around and trying to notice the other people, cars, and sights I usually drive past as fast as I can go. It really makes you appreciate the days when there isn’t a traffic jam and everything is going great.
Commerce also drives what we drive. If you think about all of the business which is done and is centered around the flights of fancy we take in our cars and trucks, it is an amazing array of products and services never available to anyone in the past in the quantity and quality we enjoy today. A visitor from 1776 would be amazed to know today I travelled sixty miles north, audition for a movie, went to a fine restaurant, shopped at a well supplied grocery store and also stopped and buy some really excellent cookies before driving sixty miles south back to my home. In the day of the horse and buggy, thirty miles in an entire day would be a very good day of travelling indeed. And to get a delicious chicken dinner with mashed potatoes and asparagus, plus buy fresh oranges, yogurt, Pepsi – which I don’t think they would appreciate like I do – canned chili, a dozen frozen pre-prepared meals, and a big bag of pancake mix; well, I just don’t think they would believe you. I don’t think I would even mention the excellent bakery we also stopped at to get some delicious éclairs and roles.
I haven’t mentioned all the other excellent stores and entertainment opportunities we drove past and could have patronized. But think about this. My family lives an hour away; my in-laws are two hours away. In one day, we can drive, visit and return home. Two hundred years ago, visiting my relatives could have taken up to a week. As the world has become smaller and faster, it’s true the demands on our time have increased. More is expected of us, but we are also able to do more. I can’t wait for what the future brings. I know we will continue to improve the quality of life for everyone. I just can’t imagine what form it will take. The abundance we enjoy is just a taste of what things may be. I hope you have the opportunity to enjoy all the wonderful things happening in this world today. As we pay attention and give thanks for all that we enjoy, I think you may realize what a great life you have.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
It's Hot in Texas
Click on the player to hear a podcast of this blog.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred
It’s Hot In Texas
As much as I love flying, there are times when it’s not so much fun. I don’t like standing in lines, and security is usually a hassle, too. I hope I never get as relaxed as the businessman I first flew next to. He was asleep before the plane took off, and woke up after we landed. One time I was on a business trip to Dallas, and it was the middle of a long hot summer.
I really liked the time I spent in Texas. The people were friendly, and except for the heat, it was a nice place. I also visited Houston. But by then I already knew how hot Texas could be. My wife and I went to MD Anderson for some of her cancer treatments. The doctor we were seeing in Houston said to us, “Welcome to the oven.” It really did feel like we were sitting in an oven. But there were some nice things about Houston, like the Miller Outdoor Theatre. They were offering a free show on one of the nights we were there, and so we went to the park to watch “Chorus Line”. Apparently, it was the same production which had just been on Broadway, so we were really excited. So we watched a really excellent show and I sat dripping in the heat. I was really excited for the night to come so things would cool off.
Apparently, this is not something which happens in Houston. The sun went down. The moon came up. I kept waiting for the cool evening breezes to blow in. But it stayed just as hot as when it was daytime. I had never experienced anything like that before, and now when people say it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity, I think I know what they mean. It was eleven o’clock at night when the show ended, and it was just as hot then as when the show had begun. But it was a really good show, and it was free. I like Houston, but I wouldn’t want to live there.
I live in one of the driest states, and we have very low humidity. So when it is 105 degrees, it still doesn’t feel like you are in an oven. I work outside most of the summer, and while it may be hot, there usually is a breeze. And at night, it cools down. People who come here from places like Texas have been heard to declare, “Hey, the shade here works!” I guess that means where they are from, it’s just as hot in the shade as in the sun. Or it’s just as hot during the summer night as during the day. Let’s just say I like my nights cooler than my days, and I like shade that works.
What I learned in Dallas the first time I was in Texas is sometimes it is too hot to fly. I don’t think it affects the plane, but I found out if the runway is made of asphalt and it’s 110 degrees outside, the runway may be too soft for the plane to take off. It is not too hot for the passengers to stay on the plane.
That’s right. We weren’t allowed off the plane. So it’s 110 outside, and who knows how hot it was inside that aluminum tube. We sat there sweltering and sweating. I adjusted the little fans above me, but they were only blowing more hot air onto us. Apparently, the cold air which usually comes from those vents is cold because the plane is high up in the cold air.
I can’t remember how long we sat in the plane waiting for the runway to cool off enough not to melt under us as we took off. It’s one of those Catch 22 situations. You want the plane to take off so you can stop dripping with sweat, but you also want the plane to be able to take off and not get glued to the tarmac by melting asphalt. Do I want to die from heat exhaustion, or do I want to die in a fiery plane crash?
This was more than 20 years ago, and I can still feel the hot, sticky cabin we were sitting in. So I decided to check and see how things were going in Texas this last summer. Let’s talk about San Antonio, which I have never visited, and don’t think I want to see anytime soon, especially in the summer. Last year, the temperature in San Antonio was over 100 degrees. For several days. In fact, for 57 days. Multiplied out, that’s 5700 degrees. The same temperature as an acetylene torch. Let’s just say it was a record-breaking summer for San Antonio.
I’ll bet the shade doesn’t work there either.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Windsurfing
Click on the player to hear a podcast of this blog.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred
Windsurfing
I used to hate the wind. When I was a kid, riding uphill against the wind was the worst thing ever. But now, I pay attention and hope for wind. Not a huge wind, but I am especially glad when there is just enough wind. Just enough wind for what?
Well, I have been known to shop around surplus sales for good deals, and a few years ago I saw a really interesting auction for something at the local air force base. I won the auction, and went to pick up my prize. I had won a windsurfer.
About 40 years ago, someone had the brilliant idea of combining a surfboard and a sailboat. You balance on the surfboard, hold the sail and let the wind drag you along. Once you learn to tack, or sail against the wind, you can go back and forth to just about anywhere you want. It took me a few times to get how to windsurf, since all I could do for a while is let the wind blow me wherever it wanted to. But it really has turned into a fun hobby.
It has been an interesting transition to go from hating the wind to looking forward to a nice breeze. Sometimes I leave work and feel that slight movement of air and try to decide if I have enough time before sunset to get some windsurfing in. I need to be careful, because sometimes I am not so smart.
One day in late October, summer returned and the temperature was in the 80’s. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon on a Monday night, and when I left work there was a perfect breeze and a couple of hours of light left in the day. I rushed home and loaded the board and sail onto the top of my car and hurried to the sandy beach where I usually launched. The water was on the cool side, but the wind was perfect. I felt like I could sail straight across the lake and back in record time, so I leaned into the wind and took off.
If you are tacking against the wind, you can go faster than the wind is blowing. This is because you are sliding sideways in the water. I don’t think I had ever gone as fast as I did that afternoon, and pretty soon, I was about halfway across the lake. I had traveled about 4 miles or more, and the sun was getting low. That’s when the wind stopped.
Without wind, a windsurfer is pretty much dead in the water. You can sit on the board and paddle a little, but you won’t get very far. The sun went down. It started to get colder, and I was wearing a swimsuit. The moon went down. It was almost pitch black, and I could see the water a few yards around me. I fell in the water a few times, and it was starting to get really cold. I figured I better not fall in again, because I didn’t think I would be able to stay warm enough to last the night. I sat on the edge of the board and paddled a bit, but I wasn’t going anywhere.
Someone had lit a bonfire pretty close to where I was parked on the beach. I knew I could use it as a reference point if the wind came back up. About one o’clock in the morning, the wind came back. I had been on the lake for about eight hours now, and there were times I was ready to give up. But with the wind blowing me back toward the fire, it didn’t take too long to land back on the beach. It was so dark I couldn’t see where my Jeep was parked. I guessed the wrong direction and walked about a mile on the beach until I found the fence that told me I had gone the wrong way. Meantime, the bonfire partiers were doing some target practice. I tried to stay calm, and hoped I wouldn’t end up shot instead of stuck on the lake. When I reached the board again, I continued about 100 feet and there was the car. I decided to carry the board to the car and stay quiet. When I was ready, I started up the car and went home. Nobody shot me.
I got home at two o’clock in the morning. No one had seen my note about going windsurfing, and since I am often gone nights, everyone was sound asleep. I was glad no one had called search and rescue. I went to work the next day after a couple of hours of sleep. I didn’t windsurf again until the next summer. That’s probably a good thing.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
His First Flight by Liam O'Flaherty
Click on the player above to hear a podcast of this piece.
Liam O'Flaherty was a significant Irish novelist and short story writer and a major figure in the Irish Renaissance.
(August 28, 1896 – September 7, 1984)
His First Flight
Liam O’Flaherty
The young seagull was alone in his ledge. His two brothers and his sister had already flown away the day before. He had been afraid to fly with them. Somehow when he had taken a little run forward to the brink of the ledge and attempted to flap his wings he became afraid. The great expanse of sea stretched down beneath, and it was such a long way down -- miles down. He felt certain that his wings would never support him, so he bent his head and ran away back to the little hole under the ledge where he slept at night.
Even when each of his brothers and his little sister, whose wings were far shorter than his own, ran to the brink, flapped their wings, and flew away, he failed to muster up courage to take that plunge which appeared to him so desperate. His father and mother had come around calling to him shrilly, scolding him, threatening to let him starve on his ledge unless he flew away. But for the life of him he could not move.
That was twenty-four hours ago. Since then nobody had come near him. The day before, all day long, he had watched his parents flying about with his brothers and sister, perfecting them in the art of flight, teaching them how to skim the waves and how to dive for fish. He had, in fact, seen his older brother catch his first herring and devour it, standing on a rock, while his parents circled around raising a proud cackle. And all the morning the whole family had walked about on the big plateau midway down the opposite cliff, laughing at his cowardice.
The sun was now ascending the sky, blazing warmly on his ledge that faced south. He felt the heat because he had not eaten since the previous nightfall. Then he had found a dried piece of mackerel’s tail at the far end of his ledge. Now there was not a single scrap of food left. He had searched every inch, rooting among the rough, dirt-caked straw nest where he and his brothers and sister had been hatched. He even gnawed at the dried pieces of eggshell. It was like eating part of himself.
He had then trotted back and forth from one end of the ledge to the other, his long gray legs stepping daintily, trying to find some means of reaching his parents without having to fly. But on each side of him the ledge ended in a sheer fall of precipice, with the sea beneath. And between him and his parents there was a deep, wide crack.
Surely he could reach them without flying if he could only move northwards along the cliff face? But then on what could he walk? There was no ledge, and he was not a fly. And above him he could see nothing. The precipice was sheer, and the top of it was perhaps farther away than the sea beneath him.
He stepped slowly out to the brink of the ledge, and, standing on one leg with the other leg hidden under his wing, he closed one eye, then the other, and pretended to be falling asleep. Still they took no notice of him. He saw his two brothers and his sister lying on the plateau dozing, with their heads sunk into their necks. His father was preening the feathers on his white back. Only his mother was looking at him.
She was standing on a little high hump on the plateau, her white breast thrust forward. Now and again she tore at a piece of fish that lay at her feet, and then scraped each side of her beak on the rock. The sight of the food maddened him. How he loved to tear food that way, scraping his beak now and again to whet it! He uttered a low cackle. His mother cackled too, and looked over at him.
Ga, ga, ga, he cried, begging her to bring him over some food. Gawl-ool-ah, she screamed back mockingly. But he kept calling plaintively, and after a minute or so he uttered a joyful scream. His mother had picked up a piece of the fish and was flying across to him with it. He leaned out eagerly, tapping the rock with his feet, trying to get nearer to her as she flew across. But when she was just opposite to him, abreast of the ledge, she halted, her legs hanging limp, her wings motionless, the piece of fish in her beak almost within reach of his beak.
He waited a moment in surprise, wondering why she did not come nearer, and then maddened by hunger, he dived at the fish. With a loud scream he fell outwards and downwards into space. His mother had swooped upwards. As he passed beneath her he heard the swish of her wings.
Then a monstrous terror seized him and his heart stood still. He could hear nothing. But it only lasted a moment. The next moment he felt his wings spread outwards. The wind rushed against his breast feathers, then under his stomach and against his wings. He could feel the tips of his wings cutting through the air. He was not falling headlong now. He was soaring gradually downwards and outwards. He was no longer afraid. He just felt a bit dizzy. Then he flapped his wings once and he soared upwards.
He uttered a joyous scream and flapped them again. He soared higher. He raised his breast and banked against the wind. Ga, ga, ga. Ga, ga, ga. Gawl-ool-ah. His mother swooped past him, her wings making a loud noise. He answered-her with another scream Then his father flew over him screaming. The he saw his two brothers and sister flying around him, soaring and diving.
Then he completely forgot that he had not always been able to fly, and commenced himself to dive and soar, shrieking shrilly.
He was near the sea now, flying straight over it, facing out over the ocean. He saw a vast green sea beneath him, with little ridges moving over it, - anti he turned his beak sideways and crowed amusedly. His parents and his brothers and sister had landed on this green floor in front of him. They were beckoning to him, calling shrilly. He dropped his legs to stand on the green sea. His legs sank into it. He screamed with fright and attempted to rise again, flapping his wings. But he was tired and weak with hunger and he could not rise, exhausted by the strange exercise. His feet sank into the green sea, and then his belly touched it and he sank no farther.
He was floating on it. And around him his family was screaming, praising him, and their beaks were offering him scraps of dog-fish.
He had made his first flight.
This is another episode of “Literature Out Loud” from the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Click on the player to hear a podcast of this blog.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred
Flight to the Ground
Man has been fascinated by flight since the beginning of time. Leonardo da Vinci imagined the helicopter, and proposed a model for a hang-glider. As I consider the airplanes flying through the air, I wondered about how much they weigh. A Boeing 737 weighs 83 thousand pounds, but has a take-off weight ability to carry 154 thousand pounds. It carries 6800 gallons of fuel. The plane is 110 feet long, and 117 feet wide. One hundred and thirty-seven people can fly on the on a 737.
The specifications seem like empty numbers, but when I see thousands of pounds of people, metal and jet fuel streaking across the sky, it simply amazes me. I don’t know the engineering and design that gets us from a short flight at Kitty Hawk to a daily routine where thousands of planes land every day without incident. Flying is an exciting, exhilarating adventure, unless you are flying so much it becomes mundane. I was sitting next to a businessman on my first flight, and he was asleep before the flight took off. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was to fly through the clouds, and I took dozens of pictures through the small side window. The businessman slept the entire flight.
I like flying so much I’ve spent a good deal of my time flying through the air to the ground, without the plane. One time I flew backwards from a six-foot wooden ladder. I was painting the ceiling in the carport, which has since been made into a garage. But standing at the top of the ladder is never a good idea, and as I held the paint cup in my right hand and painted with my left, my wife came home and told me how good I was doing. As I wobbled slightly, the ladder flew away from my feet.
I started to fall backwards, with my feet staying up and my head started down, and as I performed a backward somersault, I grasped the paint cup firmly. I did not let go of that cup. I was determined to hold it as I fell. This means paint flew from the cup in a perfect circle around me, across the roof, across my car which was parked behind me, and on the concrete. A beautiful white circle described the path of my perfectly executed backward somersault. There was even a white line of paint on my wife. She was worried about me, of course, but since I was okay, she was not very happy when I told her she needed to go wash the latex paint from her clothes.
I learned how to do back-flips by practicing on a rubber inner-tube. I would bounce up and try to spin backwards, usually landing on my head. But since I’m pretty hard-headed anyway, I eventually learned how to do it. So when I fell off the ladder, those old instincts kicked in, and I didn’t get hurt. The same thing happened one day at school. I was walking on the stage, and just behind me was a set of five or six stairs. As I walked backward, I went backward down the stairs, and did another back-flip. Students were standing on the stage in front of me and saw me tumble backwards. They were momentarily concerned until I popped up from the floor and declared I was all right. It really is a strange kind of talent, but it probably has saved some broken bones. But I wouldn’t recommend this course of training for anyone else.
I also flown to the ground from the top of a fifteen foot ladder. Again, the ladder flew away from me since it was leaning on a grape arbor which decided to collapse. I fell to the ground this time without doing a somersault, this time landing flat on my back. Amazingly no serious injury was done, except to my pride. I was painting again, and this time I painted the side of the house green. I went into the house, took some ibuprofen and laid down to rest.
I even had a dream about the next time I flew through the air. I wanted to put more Christmas lights on the walnut tree in the front yard. I had a dream I fell out of the tree while putting up lights, and while I’m not a great believer in dreams as prognostication, I should have paid attention. Maybe I was just spooked, but it happened just as I had dreamed it. I fell and broke the fibula in my right leg. It took three x-rays and about six hours in the emergency room, and the doctor confirmed I had a hairline fracture. He suggested I go home and take some ibuprofen.
I still like to fly.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Airport Excitement
Click on the player to hear a podcast of this blog.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred
Airport Excitement
I don’t think Jesse had ever been on a plane before. He didn’t tell me this, but I wonder why he endangered our trip. I was his chaperone, and we were going to the National Debate Tournament. We were on our way to a week in Michigan, and I hoped to visit the Mall of America.
If you have never been, you should try to get there someday. It is an incredible two story humongous mall, with a roller coaster inside. That’s right. A roller coaster inside the mall. Back then it had Snoopy, Charlie Brown, Peanuts theme, and it probably still does. But I almost missed it all because of Jesse.
Don’t get me wrong. Jesse is one of my favorite all time students. He was fun to be around, and was a very talented student. But there are some things you just don’t say at the airport. This was back in the day before 9/11, but airport security has always been tough, especially when you try to joke with the ticketing agent.
I understand the need for security, and the most recent addition is going to be full body scans. This means there is a machine which will show the outline of your body. The security guard will be able to see any explosives attached to your person. I’m guessing they will also be able to see any enhancements, or additions, or padding you may be carrying. It doesn’t bother me, but I can see why it might bother some women. I wouldn’t want to be scanned, but I guess if we are going to fly, we will all be scanned. I heard recently 150 body scan machines have been ordered.
I don’t even like to be weighed at the doctor’s office. For some reason, their scale always makes me heavier than the home scale. I don’t really weigh myself that much. But I also don’t want to have one of those caliper tests, because I know my body fat is higher than it should be. But that’s because I like being fat. I was skinny until after college, and being a skinny guy is really a pain. So when I gained about 50 pounds in my twenties, I was ecstatic. I like being fat. Well, a little fat; not morbidly obese, but I do have a spare tire. I carry my spare food with me.
I could be healthier, but I have run 3 marathons at a very, very slow speed. There were some parts of the race I’m sure I was the only one who knew I was running. It probably looked more like a hurry-up shuffle, but sometimes after 26.2 miles, how else is a fat guy supposed to look?
Jesse and I had big plans for this tournament. I had made a bunch of t-shirts that weren’t authorized for sale at the tournament. I wanted to use the sale of the shirts to buy tickets to some show tickets that were playing while we were there. I set up a table and sold the t-shirts and the money was rolling in. That is, until the guy in charge of the tournament confronted me and asked who had authorized me to sell this stuff. He was satisfied with the one hundred dollars I gave him, and I have a sneaking suspicion he didn’t tell anyone else about our little transaction.
The good news is we did get to see the shows, the Mall of America and even went to Planet Hollywood when there was still one there. I don’t think there is a Planet Hollywood there now. But what does all this have to do with what Jesse said at the airport?
I had arranged for the tickets in advance, and since he was 18 by then, he was also travelling as an adult. Jesse has a really good sense of humor, and he liked to make people laugh. I looked at the ticket agent and decided this was a man who really didn’t like to laugh, and didn’t like it when other people laughed. He had those permanently etched frown lines you see on people who have been at a job they really don’t like, for more years than anyone cares to know.
Jesse turned to me and said, loud enough for all to hear, “I’d I didn’t bring the gun.” I frowned. The ticket agent frowned, making deeper wrinkles. There was a long pause. I envisioned men in dark suits interviewing us in a small room while our plane left without us.
The ticketing agent asked if I was Jesse’s chaperone. I said he was technically a former student who was 18 and now travelling as an adult. The agent changed Jesse’s ticket to make me his guardian. We made our flight.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Defender
Click on the player to hear a podcast of this episode.
The Defender
The word champion can also be a verb, as in championing a cause, something you defend or stand up for. What will you champion this year? I will continue to champion the underdog, especially when I know there is unrecognized potential.
Most of us champion one cause or another. Some of us are more vocal or strident in our support for our special cause, while many of us silently support things others may never suspect. While championing a cause is sometimes passed down in a family, most of the time we develop our pet projects as we make our journey through life, observing inequalities and injustice we need to right.
Sometimes we defend those who aren’t able to defend themselves, and this kind of championing usually gets me into trouble. I step into many situations I should probably stay out of, and my wife usually advises me to stop; she’s usually right. We were in New York a couple of years ago, and when she stopped to photograph an amazing billboard, it pushed the crazy lady on the street to the limit.
As a New Yorker, she had probably had it with tourists stopping in the middle of the street to take photographs while she was on her way to her personality improvement class. She lost it, and started shouting at my wife. “Go home”, she demanded, and for some reason, I started yelling right back. “No, you go home”, I said, which was stupid, because she probably lived in New York. She yelled “Shut up”, and with all of the creativity I could muster, I shouted back, “No, you shut up.” Pretty original.
She started mumbling something, and I refused to back down. By this time a crowd had gathered, and was intently watching the two New York crazies. Well, I did my best even though I was from Utah. I shouted something like “Go away, nobody is listening to you,” which wasn’t really true, but again, when you are shouting at someone on the street, no one expects you to be brilliant.
By this time my wife had intervened, and wanted me to move along. It was good advice. But defending my wife isn’t the only person I like to defend. When I first became a teacher, I was amazed at the lack of faith most parents have in their own children. I found out I had to be the defender, and help them understand the potential of their own kids.
I need to explain about the classes I teach. At this time it was a basic English class, and it wasn’t too hard to pass my class. I had several special needs students, who were excused from doing some of the work, but many of them were able to complete assignments as well as regular students.
One particular student was missing several assignments, and I was having a parent conference with her father. We discussed the assignments she was missing, and the fact that her grade at that time was an “F”. I was a brand new teacher, not used to the pessimism of some parents. I was flabbergasted when he announced, in front of her, that she was “too stupid to be in my class”. He continued by explaining how she couldn’t do this kind of work, and that is was his opinion she needed another class. To say I was stunned is an understatement, and for a moment I was speechless.
But then I smiled at my student and turned to defend her against the onslaught of her father. I told him she was doing very well on the other assignments she had completed. I also told him if she made up the missing work, she would pass the class. I even assured him she would probably get an “A” or a “B”. He was momentarily stunned, but then began to insist there was no way she could succeed. I calmly and coolly insisted I had faith in her, and would make sure she made up the work. I stood to rise, and left the conference.
It was an amazing, dumbfounding, incredible thing to hear a parent call their own child “stupid”. I’m not the world’s best parent, but I don’t think I ever did that. If I did, I apologize. But my resolution to make sure this student passed my class was steeled. Maybe that was the plan, but I doubt it. He truly believed his daughter was too stupid to do the work, even after I assured him her other work was fine.
Again, my classes aren’t the world’s toughest, but my students learn. What she learned is I was her champion when no one else believed in her, and when she got a “B” in the class, no one was happier than me.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Real Champions
Click on the player to hear a podcast of this blog.
Real Champions
Can’t we all be champions? Doesn’t everyone who plays deserve a trophy? Trying to define what a champion is led me to a quote by John Madden:
The only yardstick for success our society has is being a champion. No one remembers anything else.
That’s not a bad measurement. It still doesn’t tell me who a champion is. If you remember Lou Ferrigno, he was the hulk on the TV series “The Incredible Hulk”. He said:
To be a champion you must act like one, act like a champion.
Acting like a champion I understand. But, I know a lot of people who act like champions, but that still doesn’t give us a measurement or definition. If you follow the women’s golf, you probably know who Patty Berg is, and I like her definition. she said:
What does it take to be a champion? Desire, dedication, determination, concentration and the will to win.
I guess champions really don’t have to be world heavyweight boxers, athletes, or race car drivers. A champion really can be you or me, especially if we have enough desire, dedication, determination and concentration. We need the will to win.
Then I do know some champions. One of my champions is Jerry Elison, who taught at Orem high School for over 40 years. Then he returned part-time. He continues to inspire me though he is in his 80’s, and he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. You probably know someone like Mr. E.
I really do think many people are champions, especially those who continue to do their work quietly without fanfare, but have the will to win. They have the desire, the dedication, determination and concentration champions exhibit.
Even though I think of Newman from “The Jerry Seinfeld” show, I think the mail carriers are champions. I think teachers, doctors, emergency personnel, fire fighters, and police are champions. They serve with desire, dedication, determination and concentration. They have the will to win. But then, so do criminals.
In my motivational presentation, “B positive – more than a blood type”, I like to encourage people to be their best selves. In the phrase “My Best Self”, I stress that the “M” in “My Best Self” represents “Making a Positive Contribution”. It used to be “Makes a Difference”. But criminals can make a difference, especially if they are stealing your wallet. Earl Nightengale used this same justification to stress our efforts in this life should be positive, and contribute to the good in the world. I think that should be added to our definition of a champion.
This may be why the soccer philosophy may have spread in the world. The “everyone gets a trophy” idea really isn’t so bad. Most people really do their best. That includes workers, bosses, entrepreneurs, consumers, and probably even you. If you are doing your best, with desire, dedication, determination, and concentration, you may be a champion. If you have the will to succeed, you may be a champion.
If you are doing your job, providing for your family, caring for children; if you are making a positive contribution in this world, you probably are a champion. Think about a single divorced mother who has to go back to work to support her family. There are hours dedicated to work, to family, to sleep. Where two parents were supposed to provide a nurturing environment, now there is one. What better definition of a champion can we find?
But even two parents with children are heroes in my book. In fact, there are so many discouraging factors in the world today that anyone; mother, father, sister, brother, single, married, divorced, any race, creed, anywhere in the wide world; anyone who survives from day to day without major depression is a hero. There are so many reasons to lose faith, to be discouraged, to give up hope. But somehow, most people find a way to get out of bed in the morning and face another day. Abundance may be the reason. There is so much to celebrate, if we can just past all the garbage.
This poem is called Champion. It may describe you.
The average runner runs
until the breath in him is gone,
But the champion has the iron will
that makes him carry on.
For the rest the average runner begs
when limp his muscles grow,
But the champion runs on leaden legs,
his courage makes him go.
The average man's complacent
when he's done his best to score,
But the champion does his best,
and then he does a little more.
We weren’t given this world. We have created it every day we have been alive, and every person makes the world. One less, and it’s not the world we know. What can we do to champion a better tomorrow?
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Foot Race
Click on the player to hear the podcast of this blog.
Foot Race
I need to get running again, since I’m almost positive I’ll be running the St. George Marathon this October. I’ve tried to enter the race the past two years, and they have a 3 times and you’re in rule. I didn’t used to like jogging, but I’ve learned it is a wonderful way to exercise and helps me to focus on what really needs to be done during the next few days. My wife used to jog with me, and she still stays in shape by dancing. The last race we ran together was the Art City Days race, which is usually held in early June. This has been more than 20 years ago, but I still remember who won the race.
This was back when the race used to follow the parade route. It was fun since people were waiting for the parade and people from town would cheer you on. I like to enter this race because it is early in the summer, and it’s a great way for me to start my marathon training. There does seem to be a race every weekend somewhere in the county, so that means I can run at least once during the week. If I run every race during the weekends of the summer, and do some distance work, it really does get me ready for the big one.
I had always wanted my wife to run a race with me, and she agreed to run this one time. I was super excited, and hoped this would be a way for us to keep in shape. So when we left the starting line, she sidled up to me and said, “Would you please run with me? I don’t want to run by myself.”
What devoted husband could resist a plea like that? I throw myself on the mercy of the court. There really are only two choices. I could run at my usual pace, which was faster than she was running. I had been in many races by this time. She was running her first. If I ran with her, then I would be running at a much slower pace than usual, but then she would be running alone. Case closed.
We trotted along together at a comfortable pace, and all along the way we saw friends and neighbors. We waved and felt very good about the exercise we were getting, and everything was right with the world.
Since this is the old race route, the end of the race was also the end of the parade, just down from our house. It ended at the old Pizza Hut, which is now an insurance firm. We were literally steps from the finish line when I realized something was about to happen.
You need to know my wife comes from a very competitive family. Her dad was a football, swimming and track coach. Let’s just say they don’t like to lose. It’s a nice way to say it, and I won’t have to sleep on the couch if I stay nice.
Well, there we are, just yards from the finish line, and there is a little boy running in front of my wife, and I am running just behind her. I want to run ahead and beat her to the finish line, but I have to do some quick mental calculations. Will it make her mad if I beat her? I speed up a bit to test the waters. Remember, she isn’t a regular runner. She speeds up.
The gauntlet has been thrown. I sped up and tried to sprint ahead. It really is a sad picture if you think about it. A wife and husband, who every other day of the year will support each other in sickness and in health, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, to love and to cherish, unless they are entered in the same foot race and inches from the finish line.
Unfortunately, she was just too fast for me. She sprinted ahead, but still let the little boy beat her. But not her husband.
Now don’t misunderstand. We weren’t racing for first place. We weren’t going to be crowned the champions of the Art City 5K. I don’t think we were even going to place in our respective divisions. They have different categories for age and gender, for which I am very grateful. I have placed as high as second when there have only been two forty-year old males in my category.
And on this day, I would finish 2nd place in my family. My wife has forever after been able to claim she is the fastest runner in our family. She sped across the finish line and announced her retirement from foot races. To this day she has never run another race.
This is another episode of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Dane Allred”. From the weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Champion of the Weather by O'Henry
Click on the player to listen to Dane Allred read this story by O'Henry.
The Champion of the Weather
O’Henry
If you should speak of the Kiowa Reservation to the average New Yorker he probably wouldn't know whether you were referring to a new political dodge at Albany or a leitmotif from "Parsifal." But out in the Kiowa Reservation advices have been received concerning the existence of New York.
A party of us were on a hunting trip in the Reservation. Bud Kingsbury, our guide, philosopher, and friend, was broiling antelope steaks in camp one night. One of the party, a pinkish-haired young man in a correct hunting costume, sauntered over to the fire to light a cigarette, and remarked carelessly to Bud:
"Nice night!"
"Why, yes," said Bud, "as nice as any night could be that ain't received the Broadway stamp of approval."
Now, the young man was from New York, but the rest of us wondered how Bud guessed it. So, when the steaks were done, we besought him to lay bare his system of ratiocination. And as Bud was something of a Territorial talking machine he made oration as follows:
"How did I know he was from New York? Well, I figured it out as soon as he sprung them two words on me. I was in New York myself a couple of years ago, and I noticed some of the earmarks and hoof tracks of the Rancho Manhattan."
"Found New York rather different from the Panhandle, didn't you, Bud?" asked one of the hunters.
"Can't say that I did," answered Bud; "anyways, not more than some. The main trail in that town which they call Broadway is plenty travelled, but they're about the same brand of bipeds that tramp around in Cheyenne and Amarillo.
“At first I was sort of rattled by the crowds, but I soon says to myself, 'Here, now, Bud; they're just plain folks like you and Geronimo and Grover Cleveland and the Watson boys, so don't get all flustered up with consternation under your saddle blanket,' and then I feels calm and peaceful, like I was back in the Nation again at a ghost dance or a green corn pow-wow.
"I'd been saving up for a year to give this New York a whirl. I knew a man named Summers that lived there, but I couldn't find him; so I played a lone hand at enjoying the intoxicating pleasures of the corn-fed metropolis.
"For a while I was so frivolous and locoed by the electric lights and the noises of the phonographs and the second-story railroads that I forgot one of the crying needs of my Western system of natural requirements. I never was no hand to deny myself the pleasures of sociable vocal intercourse with friends and strangers. Out in the Territories when I meet a man I never saw before, inside of nine minutes I know his income, religion, size of collar, and his wife's temper, and how much he pays for clothes, alimony, and chewing tobacco. It's a gift with me not to be penurious with my conversation.
"But this here New York was inaugurated on the idea of abstemiousness in regard to the parts of speech. At the end of three weeks nobody in the city had fired even a blank syllable in my direction except the waiter in the grub emporium where I fed. And as his outpourings of syntax wasn't nothing but plagiarisms from the bill of fare, he never satisfied my yearnings, which was to have somebody hit. If I stood next to a man at a bar he'd edge off and give a Baldwin-Ziegler look as if he suspected me of having the North Pole concealed on my person. I began to wish that I'd gone to Abilene or Waco for my paseado; for the mayor of them places will drink with you, and the first citizen you meet will tell you his middle name and ask you to take a chance in a raffle for a music box.
"Well, one day when I was particular hankering for to be gregarious with something more loquacious than a lamp post, a fellow in a caffy says to me, says he:
"'Nice day!'"
"He was a kind of a manager of the place, and I reckon he'd seen me in there a good many times. He had a face like a fish and an eye like Judas, but I got up and put one arm around his neck.
"'Pardner,' I says, 'sure it's a nice day. You're the first gentleman in all New York to observe that the intricacies of human speech might not be altogether wasted on William Kingsbury. But don't you think,' says I, 'that 'twas a little cool early in the morning; and ain't there a feeling of rain in the air to-night? But along about noon it sure was gallupsious weather. How's all up to the house? You doing right well with the caffy, now?'
"Well, sir, that galoot just turns his back and walks off stiff, without a word, after all my trying to be agreeable! I didn't know what to make of it. That night I finds a note from Summers, who'd been away from town, giving the address of his camp. I goes up to his house and has a good, old-time talk with his folks. And I tells Summers about the actions of this coyote in the caffy, and desires interpretation.
"'Oh,' says Summers, 'he wasn't intending to strike up a conversation with you. That's just the New York style. He'd seen you was a regular customer and he spoke a word or two just to show you he appreciated your custom. You oughtn't to have followed it up. That's about as far as we care to go with a stranger. A word or so about the weather may be ventured, but we don't generally make it the basis of an acquaintance. '
"'Billy,' says I, 'the weather and its ramifications is a solemn subject with me. Meteorology is one of my sore points. No man can open up the question of temperature or humidity or the glad sunshine with me, and then turn tail on it without its leading to a falling barometer. I'm going down to see that man again and give him a lesson in the art of continuous conversation. You say New York etiquette allows him two words and no answer. Well, he's going to turn himself into a weather bureau and finish what he begun with me, besides indulging in neighborly remarks on other subjects.'
"Summers talked agin it, but I was irritated some and I went on the street car back to that caffy.
"The same fellow was there yet, walking round in a sort of back corral where there was tables and chairs. A few people was sitting around having drinks and sneering at one another.
"I called that man to one side and herded him into a corner. I unbuttoned enough to show him a thirty-eight I carried stuck under my vest.
"'Pardner,' I says, 'a brief space ago I was in here and you seized the opportunity to say it was a nice day. When I attempted to corroborate your weather signal, you turned your back and walked off. ‘Now,' says I, 'you frog-hearted, language-shy, stiff-necked cross between a Spitzbergen sea cook and a muzzled oyster, you resume where you left off in your discourse on the weather.'
"The fellow looks at me and tries to grin, but he sees I don't and he comes around serious.
"'Well,' says he, eyeing the handle of my gun, 'it was rather a nice day; some warmish, though.'
"'Particulars, you mealy-mouthed snoozer,' I says -- 'let's have the specifications -- expatiate -- fill in the outlines. When you start anything with me in short-hand it's bound to turn out a storm signal.'
"'Looked like rain yesterday,' says the man, 'but it cleared off fine in the forenoon. I hear the farmers are needing rain right badly up-State.'
"'That's the kind of a canter,' says I. 'Shake the New York dust off your hoofs and be a real agreeable kind of a centaur. You broke the ice, you know, and we're getting better acquainted every minute. Seems to me I asked you about your family?'
"'They're all well, thanks,' says he. 'We -- we have a new piano.'
"'Now you're coming it,' I says. 'This cold reserve is breaking up at last. That little touch about the piano almost makes us brothers. What's the youngest kid's name?' I asks him.
"'Thomas,' says he. 'He's just getting well from the measles.'
"'I feel like I'd known you always,' says I. 'Now there was just one more -- are you doing right well with the caffy, now?'
"'Pretty well,' he says. ’I'm putting away a little money.'
"'Glad to hear it,' says I. 'Now go back to your work and get civilized. Keep your hands off the weather unless you're ready to follow it up in a personal manner, It's a subject that naturally belongs to sociability andthe forming of new ties, and I hate to see it handed out in small change in a town like this.'
"So the next day I rolls up my blankets and hits the trail away from New York City."
For many minutes after Bud ceased talking we lingered around the fire, and then all hands began to disperse for bed.
As I was unrolling my bedding I heard the pinkish-haired young man saying to Bud, with something like anxiety in his voice:
"As I say, Mr. Kingsbury, there is something really beautiful about this night. The delightful breeze and the bright stars and the clear air unite in making it wonderfully attractive."
"Yes," said Bud, "it's a nice night."
This is another O'Henry story read by Dane Allred from his weekly broadcast of “Abundance”. Tune each week from 7 to 8 P.M. Mountain Standard Time (9 to 10 EST) or listen on any web browser at www.k-talk.com.
Monday, January 4, 2010
I Am A Champion -- a speech by Coach Flowers
Click on the player to listen to a podcast of this speech.
I Am A Champion
inspired by Pete Carroll’s Win forever
Historic Coach Flowers pre-game speech for Leland High School before the championship JV game.
Today gentleman, I am honored to coach you, and I am more honored to take you onto the field of battle. There is another honor to be bestowed upon you. That is the answer that comes with that question. Who Am I?
Answer: I am a champion!
I will conquer what has never been conquered. Defeat will not be in my creed. I will believe where all those before me have doubted. I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor and respect of my team. I have trained my mind and now my body will follow!
I will acknowledge the fact that I am an elite warrior who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by any means at my disposal. I accept the fact that my team expects me to move further, faster and fight harder than our opponents. Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be. One hundred percent and more.
Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well trained warrior. My heart and my soul will be the fuel to carry my body when my limbs are to weary. I will never falter, I will never lose focus as long as there is hope in my mind and my heart still beats. I will never give in to the evil that is weakness and I will fight that evil with my dying breath.
Energetically will I meet my enemies, no one will challenge me, none will stop me from my goal. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Champion’s word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall at the hands of my enemy and under no circumstances will I ever surrender.
Readily will I display the discipline and strength required to fight on to my objective and I will complete my mission. I will rise when I fallen. I will rip the heart from my enemy and leave it beating on the ground. My enemy need not fear me but he will respect me and if he does not. I will make him respect me with all that I have to give.
History will remember my name and he will not have to be kind. For I will have denied his criticisms and put in my own praise, No one will define me, no one will tell me what I can achieve, none will say I have not given all I have to give and none will take my glory.
A True Champion
Click on the player to hear the podcast of this blog.
A True Champion
When I try to think about who I would say is a champion, I don’t think of the world heavyweight champions. They are probably the most visible, but I know there are champions in every house, neighborhood and every city. They just don’t get the same kind of press a famous boxer does.
My idea of a great champion is someone who has overcome great difficulties to achieve things the world needed and will remember. One of the greatest heroes I can think of is Helen Keller.
Though deaf and blind, she wrote 12 books. She was the first deafblind person to graduate from Radcliffe. I cannot imagine what her world was like, and it makes me value my sight and hearing so much more when I think of the darkness and silence she must have endured.
For those who are unfamiliar with the story, Anne Sullivan was able to teach Helen letters, which led her to discover how to spell water. Though Helen had developed some of her own signs for use in the home with her family, now she had access to words for all of the things unknown to her. After that point, a passionate desire to learn everything she could would dominate her life. Here is how she described the transformation in her book, Optimism, written in 1903.
Once I knew the depth where no hope was, and darkness lay on the face of all things. Then love came and set my soul free. Once I knew only darkness and stillness. Now I know hope and joy. Once I fretted and beat myself against the wall that shut me in. Now I rejoice in the consciousness that I can think, act and attain heaven. My life was without past or future; death, the pessimist would say, "a consummation devoutly to be wished." But a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness, and my heart leaped to the rapture of living. Night fled before the day of thought, and love and joy and hope came up in a passion of obedience to knowledge. Can anyone who escaped such captivity, who has felt the thrill and glory of freedom, be a pessimist?
As the eternal optimist myself, I wonder how many of us are in the lonely emptiness, knowing only “darkness and stillness”. There is something about having an optimistic outlook that changes the entire face of the world. Helen Keller believed the effort must be made to change the world for the better, with the perspective that everything isn’t perfect, but that mustn’t stop us from trying to make the world a better place. She said it this way:
Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it. My optimism, then, does not rest on the absence of evil, but on a glad belief in the preponderance of good and a willing effort always to cooperate with the good, that it may prevail.
I know there is a preponderance of good in the world, and to be miserable because there is evil is the shortcut. The work we have to do is to overcome the bad, and help others to find happiness and abundance. I believe there are eternal laws that will reward this type of behavior. Helen Keller said it this way:
Happiness is the final and perfect fruit of obedience to the laws of life. If we spend the time we waste in sighing for the perfect golden fruit in fulfilling the conditions of its growth, happiness will come, must come. It is guaranteed in the very laws of the universe. If it involves some chastening and renunciation, well, the fruit will be all the sweeter for this touch of holiness.
Helen Keller knew about chastening and renunciation, but she also knew about how personal growth and determination can overcome the difficulties we encounter. When we think about happiness, many of us have the wrong idea. It’s not a continual state of bliss, but careful and thoughtful work toward our goals. She said it this way:
Many persons have a wrong idea of what constitutes true happiness. It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose. A happy life consists not in the absence, but in the mastery of hardships. It all comes to this: the simplest way to be happy is to do good.
I celebrate Helen Keller as a true champion. She inspires me to try to do good, to celebrate the abundance of good things in our universe, and to wonder at my part in it. I hope I can overcome my shortcomings, get outside myself, and do my best to make this world even better. Together, there is nothing we cannot accomplish.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)