Today I flew to New York and needless to say, if you’ve read the blog you know that I love New York. There’s always a feeling of anticipation, energy and wonderment. New York always makes me think! Think about me, my life, what am I doing? I tend to reflect upon life when I’m in that “New York state of mind.”
Life is interesting… at least mine is! What am I doing with my life? What is the purpose of my life?
As I was on the plane I asked myself, “Why did I teach myself to play the snare drum?” I was young. Was there really a reason? I liked to bang on things. Lots of kids do. It had to be the challenge. An inner challenge, because no one was asking me to learn or saying I couldn’t… at least as far as I remember. It was a challenge. Could I do it? I wanted to know? I wanted to figure out if I could.
I never went on to play more than just the snare drum. I know my snare drum teacher discouraged my parent’s from purchasing a complete set of drums. He felt I couldn’t do it. Of course most people figured I probably couldn’t play the snare drum either.
I knew I could play the snare drum and play it well enough to be competitive for my age. It’s like kids playing sports of any kind… competitive for their age and then one day they’re not.
If I had really wanted to play or had ever figured out a way with confidence that I could play the complete set of drums, I’m sure that I would have and would have had a set of my own. This I’m pretty confident of. I never really figured it out though. Or... maybe I just got bored and didn’t want to go any farther.
It’s much like the reason I went into corporate life. It was to prove something to myself, to know something for myself. Once I had my answer, it lost all of its allure.
There’s an interesting combination of proving to myself, proving to others and finding out if I have a passion for it.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
(29th Entry) The beat goes on…
Tonight I was meeting a friend for dinner. (If I hadn’t mentioned it before I’m in a great town called San Miguel de Allende in Mexico.) So we met in the Jardin, the city’s main plaza around 8:00. I casually asked him what he was hungry for. He said he liked this little Italian restaurant down the street. We walked to the restaurant and when we arrived we were asked if we had reservations. I thought this was kind of odd because the city is very slow. Luckily they had a table against the wall. When we were sitting my friend said, “That was Doc Severinson over there.”
I didn’t realize that this was the restaurant where Doc plays several nights a week. I know he lives here and I even met his wife a few months ago. OK this isn’t really what my blog is about, but it started me thinking. Sometimes I wonder where my next entry will take me and then it suddenly comes to me. In this case it came to me as I listened to the music…
Side note: The music was incredible. Doc and the rest of the band were absolutely inspirational! They played a wide array of music from all parts of the world.
Back to my Blog…
When I was young I used to bang on everything. It was obvious that I wanted to be a drummer. As luck would have it my parents had some friends whose son had a marching snare drum in his closet. My Mom would go over to visit while their son was in school and I was allowed to play in his room. Many times I would get the drum out and beat on it. In the beginning I would just hold a drumstick and make noise, but then I began to watch how the stick bounced. The problem was… how was I going to hold two drum sticks?
I wish I could remember with more accuracy what happened over time. I just remember trying many things and many ways to somehow hold two drumsticks. The problem wasn’t holding two drumsticks it was making them move that seemed to be the issue.
I really wanted to play the drums. Tonight as the music played, my feet were tapping and when no one was looking I was banging on the table. Old habits die hard! It’s just natural with me.
I began to put the two drumsticks against my side, placing my arms over the drumsticks and pressing them against my side. Still nothing happened. I wonder how many times I tried different techniques. One day something happened… I began to use my elbows to move the drum sticks up and down. Little by little I began to make them bounce on the head of the drum. With more practice I made them move evenly, hit evenly. In other words… with rhythm.
I remember that moment when I knew that I could do it. I think I even called my Mom and her friend into the room. I knew! I had figured it out. I had done it. I knew I could do it. (This was somewhere before the age of 8. I wish I could get closer but I don’t remember.
At the end of the 5th grade it was time to sign up for band. Band began in the 6th grade. I remember my parents going with me to an event held at night where parents signed their kids up for band. I won’t go into much detail, mainly because my memory is so fuzzy. I do remember the band director having doubts about me being able to play the drum, but… The next thing I remember is that my parent’s and I went to buy me a drum at a large music store.
Skipping to the 8th grade, because I did play the drums and I was pretty good at it so I made it through two years of band. In the 8th grade I joined the marching band. We lived in Texas and football season is hot. It was grueling, but I did it. Marching band was especially difficult because the drum sat low and moved when you marched, but somehow I survived. In addition, I played competitions and did well in several events.
I ended my drumming career at the end of the 9th grade. In the 10th grade I entered into Man and His Environment, the three hour a day class that I’ve talked about in previous blogs which prevented me from being able to continue.
I’ll talk more in the next blog about the meaning of this period of my life… But yes… I did play the snare drum.
I didn’t realize that this was the restaurant where Doc plays several nights a week. I know he lives here and I even met his wife a few months ago. OK this isn’t really what my blog is about, but it started me thinking. Sometimes I wonder where my next entry will take me and then it suddenly comes to me. In this case it came to me as I listened to the music…
Side note: The music was incredible. Doc and the rest of the band were absolutely inspirational! They played a wide array of music from all parts of the world.
Back to my Blog…
When I was young I used to bang on everything. It was obvious that I wanted to be a drummer. As luck would have it my parents had some friends whose son had a marching snare drum in his closet. My Mom would go over to visit while their son was in school and I was allowed to play in his room. Many times I would get the drum out and beat on it. In the beginning I would just hold a drumstick and make noise, but then I began to watch how the stick bounced. The problem was… how was I going to hold two drum sticks?
I wish I could remember with more accuracy what happened over time. I just remember trying many things and many ways to somehow hold two drumsticks. The problem wasn’t holding two drumsticks it was making them move that seemed to be the issue.
I really wanted to play the drums. Tonight as the music played, my feet were tapping and when no one was looking I was banging on the table. Old habits die hard! It’s just natural with me.
I began to put the two drumsticks against my side, placing my arms over the drumsticks and pressing them against my side. Still nothing happened. I wonder how many times I tried different techniques. One day something happened… I began to use my elbows to move the drum sticks up and down. Little by little I began to make them bounce on the head of the drum. With more practice I made them move evenly, hit evenly. In other words… with rhythm.
I remember that moment when I knew that I could do it. I think I even called my Mom and her friend into the room. I knew! I had figured it out. I had done it. I knew I could do it. (This was somewhere before the age of 8. I wish I could get closer but I don’t remember.
At the end of the 5th grade it was time to sign up for band. Band began in the 6th grade. I remember my parents going with me to an event held at night where parents signed their kids up for band. I won’t go into much detail, mainly because my memory is so fuzzy. I do remember the band director having doubts about me being able to play the drum, but… The next thing I remember is that my parent’s and I went to buy me a drum at a large music store.
Skipping to the 8th grade, because I did play the drums and I was pretty good at it so I made it through two years of band. In the 8th grade I joined the marching band. We lived in Texas and football season is hot. It was grueling, but I did it. Marching band was especially difficult because the drum sat low and moved when you marched, but somehow I survived. In addition, I played competitions and did well in several events.
I ended my drumming career at the end of the 9th grade. In the 10th grade I entered into Man and His Environment, the three hour a day class that I’ve talked about in previous blogs which prevented me from being able to continue.
I’ll talk more in the next blog about the meaning of this period of my life… But yes… I did play the snare drum.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
(28th Entry) Thoughts on the last two entries…
I’ve been thinking about the last two entries since writing them. I remember my Mom having a very difficult time trying to reason with me or at least getting me to calm down even a little at the amusement park. She was out of luck that day. I don’t think anyone or anything could have settled me down that day. I was absolutely livid… and probably out of control.
On both days I was extremely upset. What were the differences? One is that the driver’s license was a finite event. I wanted my driver’s license and went there with that specific purpose. Also the fact that it was a legal setting might have something to do with it.
At the amusement park there were many things going on. I was proactive when arriving to the park. I met with the manager on duty. I had an idea of what might happen that day. When I did get removed from rides it was as if I had done the “right thing” and was still suffering consequences.
More importantly, these were rides that I had ridden all of my life. There were no knew rides that I had never ridden. Something was being taken away from me. Not only was something being taken away, but I had done my best to prepare for it.
I was also almost five years older, 21, the day that the amusement park incident took place. Now in most people’s minds that probably translate as… I should have been more mature, but… For me, I was probably more confused and angry at this point in life. I was in the middle of that struggle of being the same and different. I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do with my life and how I was ultimately going to survive on my own.
I recall the attorney from the park the next day basically telling me to sue them if I didn’t like what had happened to me. There was no ADA in 1981 so the legal issue was probably a little more obscure.
Unfortunately even at the time I probably realized that if two people had been injured on a ride equally while sitting next to each and had I been one of them… I probably could have elicited a greater settlement than a “normal” individual. A good attorney could have played “the sympathy card” and probably made out quit well.
Right or wrong this is a fact of life. As much as I want to be the same there will always be some differences. Some positive, some negative!
What is the “right way” to act in these situations? I think ultimately it has to be up to each individual. As for me, I wish that I had been a little more in control at the amusement park. By being out of control, I didn’t accomplish anything. I caused a lot of anguish for my family and for myself.
Did I have a right to be upset? Should I have been upset? Absolutely!
It becomes that old question… How do I fight for what I want and yet maintain my own integrity?
On both days I was extremely upset. What were the differences? One is that the driver’s license was a finite event. I wanted my driver’s license and went there with that specific purpose. Also the fact that it was a legal setting might have something to do with it.
At the amusement park there were many things going on. I was proactive when arriving to the park. I met with the manager on duty. I had an idea of what might happen that day. When I did get removed from rides it was as if I had done the “right thing” and was still suffering consequences.
More importantly, these were rides that I had ridden all of my life. There were no knew rides that I had never ridden. Something was being taken away from me. Not only was something being taken away, but I had done my best to prepare for it.
I was also almost five years older, 21, the day that the amusement park incident took place. Now in most people’s minds that probably translate as… I should have been more mature, but… For me, I was probably more confused and angry at this point in life. I was in the middle of that struggle of being the same and different. I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do with my life and how I was ultimately going to survive on my own.
I recall the attorney from the park the next day basically telling me to sue them if I didn’t like what had happened to me. There was no ADA in 1981 so the legal issue was probably a little more obscure.
Unfortunately even at the time I probably realized that if two people had been injured on a ride equally while sitting next to each and had I been one of them… I probably could have elicited a greater settlement than a “normal” individual. A good attorney could have played “the sympathy card” and probably made out quit well.
Right or wrong this is a fact of life. As much as I want to be the same there will always be some differences. Some positive, some negative!
What is the “right way” to act in these situations? I think ultimately it has to be up to each individual. As for me, I wish that I had been a little more in control at the amusement park. By being out of control, I didn’t accomplish anything. I caused a lot of anguish for my family and for myself.
Did I have a right to be upset? Should I have been upset? Absolutely!
It becomes that old question… How do I fight for what I want and yet maintain my own integrity?
Sunday, January 20, 2008
(27th Entry) No fun for me at the amusement park…
Growing up I always loved to ride the rides at the Texas State Fair or Six Flags Over Texas. My family always went together and rode all of the rides. I never remember having any problems or not being allowed to ride any of the rides other than the normal height requirement for all kids when young.
The first time I ever encountered a question was around the age of 15 when I wanted to ride the old wooded roller coaster at the State Fair of Texas. Someone asked some questions, I said that I always rode the rides and that was that.
In the summer of 1979 I was at Six Flags and I wanted to ride one of the large roller coasters. I was held up at the entrance and wasn’t going to be allowed on… However I just happened to have a camp friend that was working that ride and she was able to easily slip me through the exit line where I rode it. By the way both of these rides were incredible. I really like roller coasters… rides of all type.
In the summer of 1981 I was going to Six Flags with my Mom, my aunt, my brother and cousin. I knew that times were changing. I’m not for sure how I knew, but I did. When we arrived at the park that day I immediately asked to speak with the manager on duty. After a short wait, he arrived. I asked him what problems I was going to encounter that day. After some negotiation, we decided that I could ride all the rides except the three major roller coasters. However reluctant I was to this agreement, I went along with because I was with my family.
Like so many of my stories, the exact order of things probably have been skewed over the years, but the essence remain true. I believe the first ride we went to was the “putt-putt cars”… those old fashion model t cars maybe. I was in a car with my cousin who was around 12 or 13 years old. He was driving and I was just the passenger. Before we were allowed to leave the starting point I was asked to get out because it was dangerous for me. Now the irony is that my cousin was allowed to continue through the course. This is an irony because my cousin is legally blind and still doesn’t drive to this day.
Needless to say I wasn’t happy. I know that this happened several more times on other rides with me going each time back the front office and “yelling” of course. I’m sure my indignation became more and more apparent. In fact I can promise you I was outright hostile after awhile or perhaps from the beginning.
Eventually we went to ride this ride that was a giant boat/ship that held 40 to 60 people perhaps. Half the boat faced one end and the other side faced back. I got on the boat along with the rest of my family and before the ride could start I was asked to get off. Well… that was the final straw. I had had it. I stood up and gave a short and probably not so eloquent speech which included language that probably could have been left out. I basically said I had been kicked off many rides and that I wasn’t getting off this ride that people probably should get off because the ride wasn’t going to start because I wasn’t getting off.
I was so pissed this day that I don’t think I remember what the reactions were from those around. I do remember at this point my Mom trying to get me to get off the boat ride… She did succeed. I did get off, but I wasn’t happy about it. I think I did get a little support from some of the other visitors.
A couple of things I do remember… When I got off this ride a well known reporter who covered showbiz was standing with her camera person at the exit to this ride. I told her what I was going through, but she wasn’t able to film because she was working on a story. She said she might be interested on another day perhaps. After this incident a person from the park followed us around the rest of the day to make sure that I was allowed to ride the rides that had been agreed too.
I spent a good part of the next day on the phone with the parks attorneys out of California.
Sidenote: I’m not an expert on, but I believe that the ADA… American’s with Disabilities Act specifically states that amusement parks have the right to refuse rides to anyone with a disability.
I’m telling a few stories and hopefully will follow with some sort of conclusion as to why these events in my life have meaning… both positive and negative.
The first time I ever encountered a question was around the age of 15 when I wanted to ride the old wooded roller coaster at the State Fair of Texas. Someone asked some questions, I said that I always rode the rides and that was that.
In the summer of 1979 I was at Six Flags and I wanted to ride one of the large roller coasters. I was held up at the entrance and wasn’t going to be allowed on… However I just happened to have a camp friend that was working that ride and she was able to easily slip me through the exit line where I rode it. By the way both of these rides were incredible. I really like roller coasters… rides of all type.
In the summer of 1981 I was going to Six Flags with my Mom, my aunt, my brother and cousin. I knew that times were changing. I’m not for sure how I knew, but I did. When we arrived at the park that day I immediately asked to speak with the manager on duty. After a short wait, he arrived. I asked him what problems I was going to encounter that day. After some negotiation, we decided that I could ride all the rides except the three major roller coasters. However reluctant I was to this agreement, I went along with because I was with my family.
Like so many of my stories, the exact order of things probably have been skewed over the years, but the essence remain true. I believe the first ride we went to was the “putt-putt cars”… those old fashion model t cars maybe. I was in a car with my cousin who was around 12 or 13 years old. He was driving and I was just the passenger. Before we were allowed to leave the starting point I was asked to get out because it was dangerous for me. Now the irony is that my cousin was allowed to continue through the course. This is an irony because my cousin is legally blind and still doesn’t drive to this day.
Needless to say I wasn’t happy. I know that this happened several more times on other rides with me going each time back the front office and “yelling” of course. I’m sure my indignation became more and more apparent. In fact I can promise you I was outright hostile after awhile or perhaps from the beginning.
Eventually we went to ride this ride that was a giant boat/ship that held 40 to 60 people perhaps. Half the boat faced one end and the other side faced back. I got on the boat along with the rest of my family and before the ride could start I was asked to get off. Well… that was the final straw. I had had it. I stood up and gave a short and probably not so eloquent speech which included language that probably could have been left out. I basically said I had been kicked off many rides and that I wasn’t getting off this ride that people probably should get off because the ride wasn’t going to start because I wasn’t getting off.
I was so pissed this day that I don’t think I remember what the reactions were from those around. I do remember at this point my Mom trying to get me to get off the boat ride… She did succeed. I did get off, but I wasn’t happy about it. I think I did get a little support from some of the other visitors.
A couple of things I do remember… When I got off this ride a well known reporter who covered showbiz was standing with her camera person at the exit to this ride. I told her what I was going through, but she wasn’t able to film because she was working on a story. She said she might be interested on another day perhaps. After this incident a person from the park followed us around the rest of the day to make sure that I was allowed to ride the rides that had been agreed too.
I spent a good part of the next day on the phone with the parks attorneys out of California.
Sidenote: I’m not an expert on, but I believe that the ADA… American’s with Disabilities Act specifically states that amusement parks have the right to refuse rides to anyone with a disability.
I’m telling a few stories and hopefully will follow with some sort of conclusion as to why these events in my life have meaning… both positive and negative.
Friday, January 18, 2008
(26th Entry) The day I went to get my driver’s license…
It was my sixteenth birthday… September 14, 1976! I was all excited… this is the day I was going to get my driver’s license… a rite of passage that every Texan expects.
I went to the Texas Department of Public Safety in Farmer’s Branch, Texas… a little suburb outside of Dallas. My dad went with me. Like so many of my stories this one’s a little hazy due to time and myth. Myths are stories that take on a life of there own.
I took the test in a 1973 manual transmission (4 on the floor) Ford Pinto Wagon. As I recall, I passed the test on the first try. I think I flunked parallel parking, but I still had passed the test over-all. After the test I remember sitting in the lobby as they called my Dad into a small office. I wondered what they were talking about. I don’t recall if I had any intuition or not that there might be some sort of problem.
I remember my Dad calling me into the office, maybe talking to me alone before entering… but I don’t think so or maybe it was just he and I in the office alone. He told me that even though I passed the test the officer didn’t want to give me my license without adding a restriction of automatic transmission. I was pissed!
I had passed the test! We only had this one car that I was going to have access too. The other car was a Lincoln Continental Town Car… No way was I going to drive that.
To make a long story somewhat not as long! My memory is that I picked up the phone in the office and was going to call a lawyer. My Dad explained to me that if I fought it that way I might not have a license for quite some time. I don’t recall my behavior although knowing me it probably was pretty provocative. I imagined that I said some things that made my Dad cringe.
I remember my Dad trying to negotiate and mediate between the officers and myself. Somewhere along the lines either the head of this particular office or someone higher up decided to give me another driving test. I remember we went out to a piece of land that was being made into a highway. It was a dirt field. I remember the officer telling me to just drive while he tried to make me lose control of the car. Needless to say he couldn’t make me lose control. We went back to the office; I received my license with one restriction… glasses.
I could go on and add to the story… I honestly don’t remember if the rest of the story is truth or myth. I’m sure over the years the story has been magnified in my mind… partly because it makes for a great story; and partly because it was one of those days that changed my life forever. For better or worse…
My Dad really stayed calm that day. I think he knew that I was so upset, so angry that any fuel to the fire would be a calamity for all. I had been warned by a friend of mine, Robert, to take the test in a standard or I would be given the automatic restriction, but I hadn’t thought about being denied a driver’s license having passed the test. (Hopefully soon a copy of the short film clip of Robert and I will be on the blog. It’s a 5 minute short documentary on our friendship done by PBS in Dallas, summer of 1970.)
Stay tuned!!!
I went to the Texas Department of Public Safety in Farmer’s Branch, Texas… a little suburb outside of Dallas. My dad went with me. Like so many of my stories this one’s a little hazy due to time and myth. Myths are stories that take on a life of there own.
I took the test in a 1973 manual transmission (4 on the floor) Ford Pinto Wagon. As I recall, I passed the test on the first try. I think I flunked parallel parking, but I still had passed the test over-all. After the test I remember sitting in the lobby as they called my Dad into a small office. I wondered what they were talking about. I don’t recall if I had any intuition or not that there might be some sort of problem.
I remember my Dad calling me into the office, maybe talking to me alone before entering… but I don’t think so or maybe it was just he and I in the office alone. He told me that even though I passed the test the officer didn’t want to give me my license without adding a restriction of automatic transmission. I was pissed!
I had passed the test! We only had this one car that I was going to have access too. The other car was a Lincoln Continental Town Car… No way was I going to drive that.
To make a long story somewhat not as long! My memory is that I picked up the phone in the office and was going to call a lawyer. My Dad explained to me that if I fought it that way I might not have a license for quite some time. I don’t recall my behavior although knowing me it probably was pretty provocative. I imagined that I said some things that made my Dad cringe.
I remember my Dad trying to negotiate and mediate between the officers and myself. Somewhere along the lines either the head of this particular office or someone higher up decided to give me another driving test. I remember we went out to a piece of land that was being made into a highway. It was a dirt field. I remember the officer telling me to just drive while he tried to make me lose control of the car. Needless to say he couldn’t make me lose control. We went back to the office; I received my license with one restriction… glasses.
I could go on and add to the story… I honestly don’t remember if the rest of the story is truth or myth. I’m sure over the years the story has been magnified in my mind… partly because it makes for a great story; and partly because it was one of those days that changed my life forever. For better or worse…
My Dad really stayed calm that day. I think he knew that I was so upset, so angry that any fuel to the fire would be a calamity for all. I had been warned by a friend of mine, Robert, to take the test in a standard or I would be given the automatic restriction, but I hadn’t thought about being denied a driver’s license having passed the test. (Hopefully soon a copy of the short film clip of Robert and I will be on the blog. It’s a 5 minute short documentary on our friendship done by PBS in Dallas, summer of 1970.)
Stay tuned!!!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
(25th Entry) Lots of Questions, but…
What about answers? A friend was reading my blog and remarked… You ask lots of questions. I can’t wait for you to start answering them.
I used to think I had most of the answers, but one of the fascinating things about writing this blog is that not only do you, the reader, get to know who I am, but I also find out how many questions I still have in life. There’s a wonderful quote that my old friend Mike used to say quit often… (I don’t know who originated it, but it’s a great line.) “I would rather live in the greater world of confusion, than the smaller world of certainty.” As I write more and more in this blog, I realize that answers sometimes come across as glib. They must and will come out over time, but for now the questions keep coming with a little story telling mixed in hopefully.
I’ve always liked the quote above. In essence it asks me… Do I want to try, try new things, do new things or do I want to just live in my “comfort zone”, do the things I feel comfortable doing. Am I going to ask questions, confront new issues? “I sit back reserved and never knew”… out of To Dream, To Touch… (Entry 2)
Do we do what others tell us we’re capable of doing or do we go for our dreams?
More to follow….
I used to think I had most of the answers, but one of the fascinating things about writing this blog is that not only do you, the reader, get to know who I am, but I also find out how many questions I still have in life. There’s a wonderful quote that my old friend Mike used to say quit often… (I don’t know who originated it, but it’s a great line.) “I would rather live in the greater world of confusion, than the smaller world of certainty.” As I write more and more in this blog, I realize that answers sometimes come across as glib. They must and will come out over time, but for now the questions keep coming with a little story telling mixed in hopefully.
I’ve always liked the quote above. In essence it asks me… Do I want to try, try new things, do new things or do I want to just live in my “comfort zone”, do the things I feel comfortable doing. Am I going to ask questions, confront new issues? “I sit back reserved and never knew”… out of To Dream, To Touch… (Entry 2)
Do we do what others tell us we’re capable of doing or do we go for our dreams?
More to follow….
Friday, January 11, 2008
(24th Entry) Where to, What next? (Conclusion)
In so many ways this title describes my life. In my second book that I’m working on (which deals with the dichotomies of life based on the issue of disability as a metaphor) begins with “To Dream, To Touch” (Entry 2). The first line after that is… “My life has been spent vacillating between two extremes… Hope and Hopelessness! This might sound depressing, and at times is has been, but… What keeps us going? What makes us “go on with life?” Why don’t we give up? What gives us hope?
Life for me has been about bringing together the dichotomies or paradoxes in life… those sets of opposites.
I’m the same; I’m different. I can; I can’t. I’ll try; I give up. There’s a way to do…; it’s impossible. I’ll get a job one day; I’ll never have a job. I can take care of myself; I’ll never be independent. The list goes on…
“Where to, What next?” Is this all that there is in life? Is this all I’ll ever be in life? I’m never going to…
On the other hand…
“Where to, What next?” Wow! Look what I’ve done! Look how far I’ve come! I want to; I’m going to…
“To be disabled or not to be disabled?” That is the question… It’s a choice? (In writing short blog entries it is difficult at times not to come across as trite or insincere which is why I try to weave my life experiences into my points.)
After college… the first time… I had a feeling that people didn’t want to hire me. I went on interviews, but it was that question… What can you do? Not only were they asking, but I was asking myself. It‘s a lot easier to be motivated when you have confidence than when you don’t. It’s a lot easier to have confidence when you’ve had good experiences rather than bad.
I said in the last entry via the quote from my book on my life in corporate America, “I accomplished what I had set out to accomplish which was… To know that I could make it in this world, compete with others, and be successful.” We have a choice in life. To prove to ourselves or to prove to others! Which is most important?
What truly gives us hope and motivation? When you’ve had bad experiences or less than positive lets say… How do you go on? You hear a lot of people say, “It’s all in your attitude.” It’s like the old question… which came first, the chicken or the egg? Which does come first? Your attitude and then your experiences; or do your experiences then your attitude? To me, it’s a cause and effect which happens both ways. Sometimes simultaneously and sometimes each on there own.
More to come….
Life for me has been about bringing together the dichotomies or paradoxes in life… those sets of opposites.
I’m the same; I’m different. I can; I can’t. I’ll try; I give up. There’s a way to do…; it’s impossible. I’ll get a job one day; I’ll never have a job. I can take care of myself; I’ll never be independent. The list goes on…
“Where to, What next?” Is this all that there is in life? Is this all I’ll ever be in life? I’m never going to…
On the other hand…
“Where to, What next?” Wow! Look what I’ve done! Look how far I’ve come! I want to; I’m going to…
“To be disabled or not to be disabled?” That is the question… It’s a choice? (In writing short blog entries it is difficult at times not to come across as trite or insincere which is why I try to weave my life experiences into my points.)
After college… the first time… I had a feeling that people didn’t want to hire me. I went on interviews, but it was that question… What can you do? Not only were they asking, but I was asking myself. It‘s a lot easier to be motivated when you have confidence than when you don’t. It’s a lot easier to have confidence when you’ve had good experiences rather than bad.
I said in the last entry via the quote from my book on my life in corporate America, “I accomplished what I had set out to accomplish which was… To know that I could make it in this world, compete with others, and be successful.” We have a choice in life. To prove to ourselves or to prove to others! Which is most important?
What truly gives us hope and motivation? When you’ve had bad experiences or less than positive lets say… How do you go on? You hear a lot of people say, “It’s all in your attitude.” It’s like the old question… which came first, the chicken or the egg? Which does come first? Your attitude and then your experiences; or do your experiences then your attitude? To me, it’s a cause and effect which happens both ways. Sometimes simultaneously and sometimes each on there own.
More to come….
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
(23rd Entry) Where to, What next? (Part 4)
I remember being extremely upset at the comment made by the chief’s secretary. Who the hell was she to be making a comment about me? I called my friend and told him what had happened. As I mentioned the next thing I knew I had a job. But I also remember how I felt when I walked back in those doors a few years later and how the comment that she made at that time meant so much more. I remember intellectually the first comment, but I remember with feelings the second.
My first corporate job… Six years after graduating college I went to school to do post-graduate work in Accounting. Along the way I found Finance and realized that this was my true calling at the time. One day right after my finance class, I followed the professor back to his office. I had been having a difficult time with interviews and felt that getting a job with concrete skills was still going to be difficult. This specific Finance professor had been an executive in a couple of Fortune 100 Companies. I thought that he might be a good person ask some pertinent questions.
He was sitting at his desk when I walked into his office. I was in a bad mood, so I just asked my questions straight forward. I asked him, “if he was still out there in Corporate America what would it take and how could I prove myself.” He leaned back, smiled and said, “You already have.” “I already talked to a couple of clients about you.” Well that was the beginning of a great friendship as well as finding a mentor in Finance.
However, it took him a year after my finishing courses to help me get my first corporate position. In the interim, I helped him with his consulting business. In May of 1993 he was taking a block of business to a private company to have their health claims administered. He told the owner of the company that he had someone that this company could definitely use. I interviewed and was offered a job shortly thereafter. I’m not for sure when I found out the rest of the story, but…
At six months, I remember being called into the owner’s office where he called my friend and mentor. This memory is a little fuzzy, but they talked about me and the owner said that he was definitely happy with me. As it turns out, my friend had promised the owner of the company if he wasn’t a 100% satisfied with me after six months he would reimburse the company my total pay. That’s how I got my first corporate job.
Over the course of the next eleven years I worked for three corporations. The first and last were a direct result of my friend and mentor. The second was a person that had been my boss at the first corporation. I’m currently working on a book about my experiences in Corporate America! This is mentioned in the Mission Statement…
A quote from the first several paragraphs of the book…
“It was a short, but amazing (amusing) life in corporate America! I accomplished what I had set out to accomplish which was… To know that I could make it in this world, compete with others, and be successful. On April 9th 2003, although I felt defeated in many ways as I walked out the door for the last time, I also had a sense of confidence which I had never known before.”
Next blog entry… Pull the pieces together… OK! I said that last time, but this time…
My first corporate job… Six years after graduating college I went to school to do post-graduate work in Accounting. Along the way I found Finance and realized that this was my true calling at the time. One day right after my finance class, I followed the professor back to his office. I had been having a difficult time with interviews and felt that getting a job with concrete skills was still going to be difficult. This specific Finance professor had been an executive in a couple of Fortune 100 Companies. I thought that he might be a good person ask some pertinent questions.
He was sitting at his desk when I walked into his office. I was in a bad mood, so I just asked my questions straight forward. I asked him, “if he was still out there in Corporate America what would it take and how could I prove myself.” He leaned back, smiled and said, “You already have.” “I already talked to a couple of clients about you.” Well that was the beginning of a great friendship as well as finding a mentor in Finance.
However, it took him a year after my finishing courses to help me get my first corporate position. In the interim, I helped him with his consulting business. In May of 1993 he was taking a block of business to a private company to have their health claims administered. He told the owner of the company that he had someone that this company could definitely use. I interviewed and was offered a job shortly thereafter. I’m not for sure when I found out the rest of the story, but…
At six months, I remember being called into the owner’s office where he called my friend and mentor. This memory is a little fuzzy, but they talked about me and the owner said that he was definitely happy with me. As it turns out, my friend had promised the owner of the company if he wasn’t a 100% satisfied with me after six months he would reimburse the company my total pay. That’s how I got my first corporate job.
Over the course of the next eleven years I worked for three corporations. The first and last were a direct result of my friend and mentor. The second was a person that had been my boss at the first corporation. I’m currently working on a book about my experiences in Corporate America! This is mentioned in the Mission Statement…
A quote from the first several paragraphs of the book…
“It was a short, but amazing (amusing) life in corporate America! I accomplished what I had set out to accomplish which was… To know that I could make it in this world, compete with others, and be successful. On April 9th 2003, although I felt defeated in many ways as I walked out the door for the last time, I also had a sense of confidence which I had never known before.”
Next blog entry… Pull the pieces together… OK! I said that last time, but this time…
(22nd Entry) Where to, What next? (Part 3)
When I graduated from college I couldn’t/didn’t find a job. I went on interviews and tried to use contacts to find one. Of course I graduated with a degree in Humanities not exactly a specific skill set. My first part time job ever was while I was a freshman in college. I worked at an indoor gun range and security company as a dispatcher at nights and weekends. My second part time job was working for the campus police department as a “walker” at night in Nacogdoches, TX. Actually both of these jobs gave me some interesting experiences. (Probably not the type that are relevant for the blog.) The thing they had in common is that the reason I got both were because I had friends working at each place.
As I wrote my first two job experiences above I realized something that I had never thought of before. Both jobs were at night. Hum! Interesting! And both have to do with security, radios, talking, etc. As a “walker”, my job was to lock and watch campus buildings and let girls into their dorm when they forgot their card keys from 10:00 pm to 5:00 am. Actually this wasn’t a bad job. I eventually got to drive a little pick up instead of walking all night. This actually surprised me that I was allowed to drive a school vehicle. I gave rides to students that needed rides late at night.
Why am I writing this? As I sat in a little room filling out an application for the campus job I heard the police chief’s secretary basically say… How does he think he can do this job? Luckily my friend went to the police chief and the next thing I knew I had a campus job.
There’s a great story that took place a few years later. I had a friend named Lynn who was a quadriplegic. He had a companion dog named Inca. Lynn and I would go to the football stadium at the university to exercise. Lynn would roll around one of the upper decks and I would take Inca to the track at field level to exercise her. One day I get cornered by a University Police Officer. We didn’t know one another. He said, “Your not going to run that dog.” You can probably guess what my answer was… “Yes I am.” I explained that the dog was certified, etc. I might be stubborn, hardheaded, etc., but I realized that this guy was serious… but then again, so was I. I decided to let Inca loose and told her to run to Lynn which she did. Inca was an incredible dog and the last thing I wanted was for her to try protecting me if anything happened.
To make a long story short, I suggested that we go to the police station and call the police chief. He agreed. As soon as we walked in the same secretary said hello and told the police officer that I was the best “walker” that had ever worked there. He had no clue that I knew everyone. The reason that the police showed up is because the coaches thought that the dogs toe nails would hurt the track.
The police chief said that it was somewhat controversial that I was running the dog since it wasn’t mine. His solution was to take Lynn down to the track and let Inca pull him in his wheel chair. This is what we did. The coaches weren’t too happy, but there was absolutely nothing they could do. Inca could pull Lynn in his wheelchair at a 8 minute mile pace. Eventually I think the coaches actually looked forward to us coming.
Next blog… Putting the pieces of this puzzle together, the past few blogs, and how I got my first corporate job.
As I wrote my first two job experiences above I realized something that I had never thought of before. Both jobs were at night. Hum! Interesting! And both have to do with security, radios, talking, etc. As a “walker”, my job was to lock and watch campus buildings and let girls into their dorm when they forgot their card keys from 10:00 pm to 5:00 am. Actually this wasn’t a bad job. I eventually got to drive a little pick up instead of walking all night. This actually surprised me that I was allowed to drive a school vehicle. I gave rides to students that needed rides late at night.
Why am I writing this? As I sat in a little room filling out an application for the campus job I heard the police chief’s secretary basically say… How does he think he can do this job? Luckily my friend went to the police chief and the next thing I knew I had a campus job.
There’s a great story that took place a few years later. I had a friend named Lynn who was a quadriplegic. He had a companion dog named Inca. Lynn and I would go to the football stadium at the university to exercise. Lynn would roll around one of the upper decks and I would take Inca to the track at field level to exercise her. One day I get cornered by a University Police Officer. We didn’t know one another. He said, “Your not going to run that dog.” You can probably guess what my answer was… “Yes I am.” I explained that the dog was certified, etc. I might be stubborn, hardheaded, etc., but I realized that this guy was serious… but then again, so was I. I decided to let Inca loose and told her to run to Lynn which she did. Inca was an incredible dog and the last thing I wanted was for her to try protecting me if anything happened.
To make a long story short, I suggested that we go to the police station and call the police chief. He agreed. As soon as we walked in the same secretary said hello and told the police officer that I was the best “walker” that had ever worked there. He had no clue that I knew everyone. The reason that the police showed up is because the coaches thought that the dogs toe nails would hurt the track.
The police chief said that it was somewhat controversial that I was running the dog since it wasn’t mine. His solution was to take Lynn down to the track and let Inca pull him in his wheel chair. This is what we did. The coaches weren’t too happy, but there was absolutely nothing they could do. Inca could pull Lynn in his wheelchair at a 8 minute mile pace. Eventually I think the coaches actually looked forward to us coming.
Next blog… Putting the pieces of this puzzle together, the past few blogs, and how I got my first corporate job.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
(21st Entry) Where to, What next? (Continued)
As I write many of my blog entries or more accurately as I look back at them sometimes I wonder where “this” is coming from. One of my favorite papers in college was a short paper entitled, “Why Have People Forgotten the Classics.” I remember a conversation with the professor afterwards. He said about my paper that these were basic questions that all serious students asked. He also mentioned how disappointed he was in the commitment of most of the students. He said that most of them didn’t even read the assigned books or engage in dialogue in the classroom. Feeling embarrassed I admitted to him that I had written my paper beginning at midnight the day that it was due. He looked at me and said something to the effect, you might have begun writing it at midnight but you were preparing for it all semester.
Oddly enough, this was an Eastern Political Thought Class and the professor was someone who influenced me greatly. His comment goes so well with the Chinese proverb, “When the student is ready the teacher will appear.” This blog has been an amazing experience.
You might ask what does this entry or so many of the entries have to do with the issue of disability… especially since I say that the site is dedicated to the issue of disability!
It’s as if I’ve been preparing my whole life for this blog or the blog (the teacher) came along when I (the student) was ready.
So far the blog has focused on me… my life, my experiences. That makes sense since I’m writing it. I’m trying to relate to others (YOU) through my personal experiences and philosophy. In my Mission Statement, I’ve outlined my high level goals, desires, wishes…
I’ve mentioned that one of the questions I’ve struggled with much of my life is how am I same and how am I different. When I was young I think that I probably felt much more like others than I did different. I don’t recall being extremely self conscious in my pre-teen years. In the summer of 1973 my family moved into a new house, in a new neighborhood, etc. I went to a new school where no one knew me. That was tough, but it wasn’t devastating.
Oddly enough it was the next summer (1974) when I went to summer camp that this question began to crystallize. I received an award at the end of the camp session for being the most… “something” At each of the older camp sessions one male and one female received this award called the Crucis Cross. After receiving this award I began to ask myself… Did I receive it because I’m different? Did I deserve it? After all, being who I am I have no control over how others look at me. It’s ironic, but as I look back to this event 33 years ago… I probably was me, the real me, the natural me. I probably got this award for being who I was.
Somehow after that my life began to change.
I’ve mentioned that I was in a special class in high school called Man and His Environment. There’s a saying… art imitates life. You had to be chosen for this class. I remember the interview process and receiving a notice that I had been chosen. The class had some of the top students in the district. It was an amazing experience for this reason and the curriculum as well. It was a social science cluster conducted at the college level. To make a long story short… I never really turned in any work. I read all of the material and learned a tremendous amount, but never had to turn in any of the work. I got by with that… It was strange, but I had a feeling… When my parents asked why I had incompletes and had not done the work… One teacher answered something to the effect we thought he would be a good example for the other students. In other words, I wasn’t there for me, I was there for others.
I did the work for me even though others didn’t expect much from me.
I’m working towards a point… it took me a long to time to realize that I, we, have so much more in common than we can think or imagine. I’m probably also working towards the answer to… Why are myths important?
To be continued in the next blog…
Oddly enough, this was an Eastern Political Thought Class and the professor was someone who influenced me greatly. His comment goes so well with the Chinese proverb, “When the student is ready the teacher will appear.” This blog has been an amazing experience.
You might ask what does this entry or so many of the entries have to do with the issue of disability… especially since I say that the site is dedicated to the issue of disability!
It’s as if I’ve been preparing my whole life for this blog or the blog (the teacher) came along when I (the student) was ready.
So far the blog has focused on me… my life, my experiences. That makes sense since I’m writing it. I’m trying to relate to others (YOU) through my personal experiences and philosophy. In my Mission Statement, I’ve outlined my high level goals, desires, wishes…
I’ve mentioned that one of the questions I’ve struggled with much of my life is how am I same and how am I different. When I was young I think that I probably felt much more like others than I did different. I don’t recall being extremely self conscious in my pre-teen years. In the summer of 1973 my family moved into a new house, in a new neighborhood, etc. I went to a new school where no one knew me. That was tough, but it wasn’t devastating.
Oddly enough it was the next summer (1974) when I went to summer camp that this question began to crystallize. I received an award at the end of the camp session for being the most… “something” At each of the older camp sessions one male and one female received this award called the Crucis Cross. After receiving this award I began to ask myself… Did I receive it because I’m different? Did I deserve it? After all, being who I am I have no control over how others look at me. It’s ironic, but as I look back to this event 33 years ago… I probably was me, the real me, the natural me. I probably got this award for being who I was.
Somehow after that my life began to change.
I’ve mentioned that I was in a special class in high school called Man and His Environment. There’s a saying… art imitates life. You had to be chosen for this class. I remember the interview process and receiving a notice that I had been chosen. The class had some of the top students in the district. It was an amazing experience for this reason and the curriculum as well. It was a social science cluster conducted at the college level. To make a long story short… I never really turned in any work. I read all of the material and learned a tremendous amount, but never had to turn in any of the work. I got by with that… It was strange, but I had a feeling… When my parents asked why I had incompletes and had not done the work… One teacher answered something to the effect we thought he would be a good example for the other students. In other words, I wasn’t there for me, I was there for others.
I did the work for me even though others didn’t expect much from me.
I’m working towards a point… it took me a long to time to realize that I, we, have so much more in common than we can think or imagine. I’m probably also working towards the answer to… Why are myths important?
To be continued in the next blog…
Thursday, January 3, 2008
(20th Entry) Where to, What next?
This is actually line from a Carl Sandburg poem. My brother used this portion of the poem in a project as a child and I’ve always remembered it.
“In the darkness with a great bundle of grief, the people march.
In the night and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps.
The people march.
Where to, What next?”
Carl Sandburg
It’s a great few lines and says in such a short way many of the themes that I’ve been trying to convey. Essentially these few lines as I interpret them are saying… Not knowing who we are at times… not knowing where we’re going with our grief … we keep on going. We might be full of despair (night), but somewhere deep within us there’s always hope (the stars) so we keep on going… asking why, searching for answers and direction… wanting a way out… we persevere.
The human spirit is amazing.
I’ve used the phrase, “just going on with life” many times in the blog so far and implying it’s negative. Sometimes, however, it’s the only way that we keep going though. At some point, though, we can hopefully move past this way of life. Living life in this way takes its toll on us over time and those around us.
Hope and dreams are what keeps us going. Since beginning this blog I’ve met more and more people who have an interest in the issue of disability or are disabled themselves. I’ve seen the human spirit persevere through all types of adversities.
What gives me hope and keeps my dreams alive… People! Recently I watched someone who’s had some tremendous medical issues this past year keep on going. She inspired me by the way that she is “out there” going on with her life. Her speech has been impaired and is difficult to understand. Suffice it say she’s experienced in recent months many of the same reactions that I’ve experienced much of my life.
She inspired me because she was going on with life, yet she also was able to relate her struggle in an honest and vulnerable way. She inspired me because I could see parts of myself and relate to her as others might relate to me. That quote that I’ve used before… “When we forget who we are, we forget how to act.”
My speech actually got better after an operation that I had when I was 21 years old. This was not the reason for it, but a good and unexpected outcome. When I was in college I had to write a paper on my idiolect in an upper level English class. I remember writing, when I listen to myself in a tape recorder; I can’t understand myself either. Today, thankfully I’m much easier to understand, although people still…
Remember the subway story… When you live with a disability, it’s with you constantly. You don’t just get to a point… whatever that point is… doing things, accepting it, etc. and never have to look at it again.
By being around people who are struggling with the same issues, we’re reminded of who we are. It gives us compassion for ourselves, for the other person and for what others who interact with us might be experiencing.
“In the darkness with a great bundle of grief, the people march.
In the night and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps.
The people march.
Where to, What next?”
Carl Sandburg
It’s a great few lines and says in such a short way many of the themes that I’ve been trying to convey. Essentially these few lines as I interpret them are saying… Not knowing who we are at times… not knowing where we’re going with our grief … we keep on going. We might be full of despair (night), but somewhere deep within us there’s always hope (the stars) so we keep on going… asking why, searching for answers and direction… wanting a way out… we persevere.
The human spirit is amazing.
I’ve used the phrase, “just going on with life” many times in the blog so far and implying it’s negative. Sometimes, however, it’s the only way that we keep going though. At some point, though, we can hopefully move past this way of life. Living life in this way takes its toll on us over time and those around us.
Hope and dreams are what keeps us going. Since beginning this blog I’ve met more and more people who have an interest in the issue of disability or are disabled themselves. I’ve seen the human spirit persevere through all types of adversities.
What gives me hope and keeps my dreams alive… People! Recently I watched someone who’s had some tremendous medical issues this past year keep on going. She inspired me by the way that she is “out there” going on with her life. Her speech has been impaired and is difficult to understand. Suffice it say she’s experienced in recent months many of the same reactions that I’ve experienced much of my life.
She inspired me because she was going on with life, yet she also was able to relate her struggle in an honest and vulnerable way. She inspired me because I could see parts of myself and relate to her as others might relate to me. That quote that I’ve used before… “When we forget who we are, we forget how to act.”
My speech actually got better after an operation that I had when I was 21 years old. This was not the reason for it, but a good and unexpected outcome. When I was in college I had to write a paper on my idiolect in an upper level English class. I remember writing, when I listen to myself in a tape recorder; I can’t understand myself either. Today, thankfully I’m much easier to understand, although people still…
Remember the subway story… When you live with a disability, it’s with you constantly. You don’t just get to a point… whatever that point is… doing things, accepting it, etc. and never have to look at it again.
By being around people who are struggling with the same issues, we’re reminded of who we are. It gives us compassion for ourselves, for the other person and for what others who interact with us might be experiencing.
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