Randy Cantrell

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“Steal a little and they’ll put you in jail, steal a lot and they’ll make you king.”     – Bob Dylan

That’s a line from his song, Sweetheart Like You.

Life has many thieves.

Yes, many of them are people – robbers and thieves – but that’s not the subject today. Today it’s about the things that rob us of much more than money. Even though the thieves in the illustration for the show-notes have bags of money, that may be the least of our valuables that get taken. More accurately, the valuables that we allow the many thieves to take from us.

The Sound Of Their Voice

I watched 9/11 Phone Calls From The Towers, a documentary on Amazon Prime. It was emotionally wrenching. Survivors were thankful for the phone calls. They were able to have final conversations with their loved ones. Others got voice messages giving them recordings of their loved one’s voice. They’ve gone to great lengths to preserve the recordings, some just a few seconds long.

Terrorists stole the voices of thousands of loved ones. One woman – a survivor – remarked how she’d been told, “You’ll forget the sound of the voice.”

As I watched this documentary I thought about how those recordings were likely both a blessing or a curse. These recordings, unlike this podcast, were produced under duress, fear, and sometimes the knowledge that death was imminent.

The comfort wasn’t so much for the survivors, but for those trapped. There are two sides to the conversations and we may focus too much on the people having to hear the fear in the voices of their loved ones. But those folks who perished had an opportunity to express their final thoughts, feelings, and wishes.

Many of the deceased were able to make numerous phone calls to the people they cared for most. Phone records showed some of them made many calls. They were craving the voices of people who loved them, and the people they loved.

Other recordings were the radio transmissions of the first responders who never made it out. All this audio is priceless to the families adding to the legacy those families will embrace – that they had a loved one who died trying to save and serve the victims of the attack.

In the documentary the survivors recalled another sound. A sound coming from inside themselves working its way out of their mouth. Cries. Moans. Wailing. Sounds some of them admit they had never made before. Or since.

My father turned 96 in September. I have a little bit of audio of him, but not nearly enough. I need to get more. Just last week I got this snippet though. It was about his one and only fight. I didn’t provoke the conversation. My mother did. 😀

Think of all the people in your life who have passed. Some from your earliest childhood. What a blessing we have today with digital technology where we can easily capture and preserve the sound of voices. Can you imagine being able to hear your great grandparents? Or your grandparents? What about that close family friend you saw so frequently?

Those 9/11 survivors are right. You do forget the sound of their voice. Thankfully many of them have those voicemail recordings to remind them.

Time is a thief. Of a lot more than sounds.

The Warmth Of Their Love

This week I’ve been listening to a lot of female vocalists. Artists like Alexa Rose, Brittany Howard, Joan Shelley, Sheryl Crow, Tori Kelly and Freya Ridings.

It’s gonna take heavy-duty AI-driven technology to flesh out how many songs exist about past love, broken love, missed love and all the other thievery that happens with love. Not just romantic love, but all sorts of love. Even a sentimental romantic like me grew tired this week of listening to all the songs about broken love. It goes to show you how universal it is.

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote, “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

We all know it’s better to have loved and not lost. Best to hang onto love.

A thief of love – just one thief because there are countless of them – is the wild card that is…the other person.

When it comes to romantic love I’m a champion. I’m world-class. She entered my life when I was 18. We’ve faithfully remained a couple ever since. Sure, I dated others before her so I understand heartbreak and relationships that don’t work out. That’s what dating is for – to see if it might work. Maybe better yet, to find out if it won’t.

We found out it worked. And so it remains “til death do us part.”

There are many variations of love besides romantic. Close friends. People who come into our lives and take up some special place for whatever reason. Sometimes we can explain why. Other times we can’t. Emotional connections form. Some last. Some don’t.

I was once less okay with those losses, but age and experience have taught me to accept the choices others make. Mostly because I know how powerless I am to change things.

In junior high I had a close friend. We remained close until sometime in high school. Something happened. I have no idea what it was. He grew distant. There was no blow-up. No event. No exchanging of words. Just a steady dose of distancing. Like a girl trying to ditch a guy who persists in asking her out – “No, I’ve got to wash my hair tonight” – he offered me less than a handful of excuses (reasons not to hang out), and I let it go. Completely.

I didn’t confront him. I didn’t do anything. Except walk away and move on. Even as a 16-year-old I figured I couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t like I didn’t have other friends with whom I hung out regularly. I recall being very puzzled by it. I was sad for a bit, but I accepted his decision even though I craved an explanation to the mystery.

Years later I reached out to him via email. He’s a few states away. Neither of us remained in the town where we went to high school together. We even talked on the phone a few times after exchanging some emails. He was friendly as ever. We reminisced about many of the stupidly fun times we had together. Our “breakup” never came up.

Instead of thinking about what might have been, I choose to be thankful for the memories. I was also happy that we hadn’t harbored lifelong bitterness as so many one-time friends do.

Betrayal is an especially harmful thief of love and friendship. Likely every adult of any age has experienced it.

Betrayal fascinates me. I’m amazed at how often people who suffer betrayal are perplexed about what happened. Or why. It makes it even more insidious really. People are just left to wonder what went wrong. Sometimes.

It’s happened to me. Not just with friends, but with family, too. People who clearly have something against you, but you don’t know what. People who used to not have anything against you, but something changed.

My high school buddy didn’t have anything against me. It just felt like he had a different set of friends and decided one day to start making those associations more important. That’s a whole different thing than betrayal. I never felt betrayed.

Hopefully, we can sense when somebody has something against us. The most remarkable thing to me is the inability people have to sort things out. The people who admit to hating “confrontation” seems very high. I don’t see working out a problem as a confrontation. It’s people coming together to iron out a problem that one of them may not even realize is a problem.

There’s another phenomenon. Sometimes people are angry, resentful and bitter. Sometimes they enjoy those emotions. I’ve learned to not underestimate anger and hatred. Or the ability people have to feel that way toward people they may have once loved or been friendly toward.

Experience and life have taught me that some people don’t want a relationship. Even if they once had one.

All our lives are filled with people who once had some sort of relationship with us, but now it’s over. Co-workers who we were once close to until they got another job. There are many reasons why relationships falter and fail through no fault of either person.

Other times we might choose to end a relationship. I’ve done that. Especially with people who I felt were toxic people or people who couldn’t be trusted. These weren’t really friends though. We may have been “friendly” but that’s different.

The betrayal thief is real. It’s universal. It’s not drifting apart. It’s not growing apart because of some big life-changing events like getting married, having kids or moving away. It’s a betrayal. It’s a friend or family member who suddenly (usually) becomes disloyal. That’s betrayal. Disloyalty.

I’ve studied it in my life. It hasn’t happened very much, but I’ve experienced it. My experience may be unique.

If I sense I’m wrong – and my wiring leans heavily into self-examination (my first reaction isn’t to point a finger at anybody other than myself) – then I usually am quick to inquire. “What have I done?”

My experience has taught me that people who no longer want a relationship with you are put off by that question. It took me years to figure that out. They don’t want resolution. For reasons of their own, they want to embrace their anger, bitterness and whatever else they’re feeling.

We may want to make it right. In their minds, they’re having to defend their emotions and they don’t want to. They really would rather not repair things. Sometimes people love their bitterness, resentment, and anger more than they love you. Like an idiot, I didn’t understand that until I was well into my adulthood.

I recall a time when I tried diligently to find out what I had done but to no avail. Multiple conversations where I begged (literally) for this person who clearly had something against me to tell me what I had done so I could repair it. Repeatedly I told them I wanted their forgiveness and I wanted to fix it. No progress.

“You know what you’ve done,” was the repeated response from them. No, I had no idea what I had done and couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t just tell me. I even asked another friend to help mediate. Still no progress. After a few months of this, I finally let go and moved on. I figure if a person isn’t going to tell me what I’ve done and give me an opportunity to make amends, then that person is devoid of forgiveness. I don’t want anybody in my life bent that way. This person obviously preferred to harbor ill feelings. While I might remain puzzled, I don’t miss the relationship.

I’ve heard lots of stories through the years of close friends – even couples – who were quite tight for years and years. Until things went south.

Sometimes the explanation is money. A buddy loans significant money to a friend, only to find the relationship altered forever. Sometimes the money is never repaid and now there’s resentment from both of them. A friend hires a friend, only to have the relationship be destroyed because of some hierarchy mind game. Yes, both actions are foolish. Loaning money to a friend. Hiring a friend. I might suggest giving them money. Don’t expect it back. If they repay it, great. If they don’t, don’t be upset. Easier said than done. As for a job, help them find a job without giving them one.

Love  and friendship can turn to bitterness, jealousy, resentment, and hatred. In a hurry.

On Monday over at GrowGreat.com, my business podcast, I’ll be releasing a conversation I recorded with two ladies who work at the National Organization of Parents of Murdered Children in Cinncinati, Ohio. One of the ladies tells the story of her adult daughter who was murdered by her husband as they approached their 2nd wedding anniversary. They were expecting their first child. He beat her to death in her sleep with a baseball bat. In their own bed. Then disposed of her body and attempted to cover it up.

Friends and family can be robbed of admiration, love, concern, warmth, and care. Sure, sometimes it’s a conscious decision like my decision to be rid of toxic, unsafe people. Quite often it’s due to something somebody feels that grows. Magnifying over time until it’s out of control. The saddest part, sometimes it’s not because you’ve done anything wrong. It’s because the other person has taken offense at something you’ve said or done – something you don’t even realize. They won’t tell you. Instead, they’d rather feel how they feel refusing to let you fix it. In every case, it’s due to selfishness. They want what they want. Some people want to be the object of hurt. They don’t want it fixed or repaired. Other times people want something or somebody different from you. They reach some stage in their life where they want what they want and they just know – they no longer want YOU.

Adultery is the biggest betrayal. It’s the biggest, deepest thief of love. The ultimate betrayal by a spouse. It’s the most colossally selfish act. People declare they deserve to be happy. Culture preaches the message incessantly every day. Nevermind that vows are broken. Trust is violated. Morality sacrificed. Sins committed. Just make sure you’re happy.

When I was young there were lots of phrases that erupted in the 60s. It was a rebellious time in America. Among the chief sayings of that era was, “If it feels good, do it.” The sentiment was more deeply explained by, “As long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else.”

I chuckle now because the hippie generation that crafted such philosophies – in all of their societal rebellion – still had some concern for others. Today, we have NO concern for others. It’s all about US. Narcissism is reigning supreme. The thief of selfishness has robbed us of so many things. Chief among them love and relationships that should have mattered more.

The Joy Of Simple Things

Fancy. That’s what we are. Well, it’s what we’d like to be. If we are fancy, then we’re quite pleased that we are — and even more pleased that you aren’t!

Some years ago an organization recruited me to join them. I was very interested. At first. Until I got to know the culture and the people. They were affected. That is, they were arrogant, pompous and conceited. They prided themselves on being fancy. Judgments were made about just about everything. They enjoyed – even relished – how superior they felt to others. I’m thankful for the experience though because I learned a valuable lesson that has propelled me in recent years. These people loved to “should” people by telling people what to do. I hate it, much preferring to help people figure it out for themselves.

Big houses. Fancy exotic cars. High brow affairs. I’ve been in the business world since I was 16. Spent most of my life running multi-million dollar businesses, but I had NEVER seen a culture so wrapped up in wanting to be big shots — and wanting others to know it. So I walked away. Well, it was more of a jog. 😉

Simple things. Plain things. Ordinary, but special things.

I’ve been thinking quite a lot about this. If you keep up with my “What I’m Up To At The Moment” themed page over at RandyCantrell.com you’ll see minimalism listed. No, I’m not a minimalist, but I have a deep appreciation for it. Mostly because of the simplicity of it. I crave incorporating some parts of it into my life.

This week I’ve been thinking a lot about death (don’t hit the stop button, I’m not going to be morbid). Truth is, I think about death just about every day. Lately, I’ve been specifically thinking about death because of the thievery it causes when it takes from us people with whom we’re very close. People who have made a difference in our lives. For me, these people are important not because of anything fancy.

Those thoughts have kept me awake much of this week as I’ve thought about how it’s the simple things that tend to provide the most value. For me, the most important people are fairly ordinary. They aren’t fancy.

These people haven’t impacted me because they’re noteworthy in the world. They haven’t impacted me because they occupy big stages in the world. Or written best selling books. Or anything else the world might say is “high achievement.” They’re important to me because of the value they provide. They matter to me because their contributions to my life are personal. Not because of any status, wealth or accomplishment.

I have a favorite bowl. I use for oatmeal, cereal, veggies, soup and just about everything else. You can eat anything in a bowl.

I also have a favorite fork. One.

And a favorite spoon.

Mostly, I have a favorite drinking mug. An employee gave it to me over 15 years ago. It glows in the dark. It’s plastic. It’s the only thing I drink from. I use it every single day.

The bowl came from Wal-Mart, purchased when Rhonda and I were on a trip to Louisiana. I wanted to eat some cereal at the bed ‘n breakfast where we were staying. I actually bought two of them. Because Rhonda needed one, too. I think we spent about $5 for both.

That one fork came from a set Rhonda and I had when we got married. She gave the entire set to our son years ago when he moved for Missouri for a brief time. I was not happy she gave him that set. Somehow I ended up with one fork from the set. It was a happy accident. I was really hacked my son gave it away and we never got the set back.

I’m picky about the tines on forks. Their angle. Their spacing. These are important matters.

The spoon is from our current set of eating utensils. It’s not a one-off, but I prefer it over any other spoons we’ve got. I think there’s eight of them in the set.

All told, this stuff is pretty cheap. Twenty-five bucks would likely catch it.

Simple stuff. Daily stuff. Ordinary stuff.

But I love them. I’m defining “love” by my preference for them. It’s my desire to use them over any other utensils in their category. I enjoy using them. They serve me well. I’m not as joyful whenever I have to use something else.

Like the people in my life who really matter. I prefer them. They’re the people I’m most drawn to. The people I most want to spend time with. Because they bring me value.

In some small way, I’m trying to do that for you with this podcast. Hopefully, I bring you some value. I’m not trying to be your closest buddy, but I do want to be something of a category killer for you when it comes to the podcasts you listen to. I want my value to be so high that you don’t think of replacing me. You can add other podcasts – that’s fine! But I want to be irreplaceable. 😉

It’s up to me to deliver.

There’s nothing fancy about it. For me, there’s nothing fancy about anything. I’m uncomfortable with fancy. I rather like simple, plain and ordinary.

The most valuable things in my life haven’t been the most expensive things. The most expensive thing I loved – the thing that gave me the most joy – was my Acura Type R Integra. It was about $25K new. I really loved getting in it and driving it. A quick trip to the store was thrilling. No vehicle has ever felt the same.

I hate getting behind the wheel of my current car. It’s not the car’s fault. Ever since a brake job with some hi-performance pads created horrible brake squeals I dread driving it. It’s the little things, right?

I love The Yellow Studio. There are many things in here that I really enjoy. The space provides comfort, inspiration, and joy. Mostly it’s the Ballard Street art, the books, the figurines and other stuff that bring me joy. You can see pictures here.

I do enjoy the gear – the microphones, the new Rode Rodebaster Pro (thanks to you guys who made financial contributions to Project #CravingEncouragement) and the computer here inside The Yellow Studio. I use them daily. So yes, I’m fond of them. They bring me joy.

Then there’s the music. It’s a big player in my life. Again, it’s not something from Robin Leach’s “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.” It’s simple stuff. Mostly relatively low-cost stuff. It’s certainly not fancy or extravagant.

The thief of all this simplicity? Comparisons.

Comparing yourself and what you may love to others. Never mind that they may not love what you do. Or that the things that bring you joy may not bring them joy.

A $100,000 BMW M3 tricked out would be great – especially that killer Limerock edition in that orange color. It wouldn’t be able to replace that glow-in-the-dark mug I drink out of every day though.

Besides, within a few years, some newer cars would make me wish I had something else. I’ve not seen another drinking vessel in 15 years that has beckoned me to ditch what I’ve got. I don’t think it’ll ever be displaced. It’s that priceless to me.

I’m hanging onto that lone fork with a death grip, too. I even get anxious whenever Rhonda uses it. Because I know she doesn’t care about which forks she uses. She thinks my fork fascination is insane. I think she’s either nuts or lying for using mine when she claims she could be just as happy using one of the other ill-designed forks in our drawer. We’re over-run with those. I’ve only got the one!

All these little things impact my life. Every single day!

You’ve got stuff like that, too. I’ll bet the stuff you really care about is just as simple and unfancy as my stuff!

Nothing will displace those things. Joy gets robbed because we don’t think about these things enough.

We’re busy thinking about the BiG things we don’t have that others seem to. Our car isn’t as new. Or as nice. Our house isn’t as fancy. Or in as nice a neighborhood. Our clothes didn’t come off the rack this week. Or this year if you’re like me. As for vacations, well, we’re lucky to get a stay-cation while it seems everybody around us going to Europe, or Australia or some exotic place.

On and on it goes. Comparisonitis kicking our butts with discontentment. Meanwhile, I’ve still got my bowl, my spoon, my fork, and my mug. Life is good. 😀

I need Europe or Australia like I need a hole in my head. A staycation would be nice since I hate to travel.

I’ve got music. Cartoons. Close friends willing to help me, and willing to let me help them (the latter is way more important to me than the former).

I’m rich. Shoot, I’m SUPER-RICH.

The thieves don’t stand a chance to rob me of any of it because I’m intentionally going to work harder to keep it all very safe in my heart. I’m going to think about it more often. More deeply, too.

The irony is that the things that bring me joy today have been the things that always brought me joy. They’ve always been simple, unfancy things. It’s who I am and I’m good with it. If others aren’t, I don’t care.

I just have to work at avoiding the distraction created by a culture that continually tries to influence me to be unhappy with what I love most.

“Don’t you want to be happy?”

No, I’d much rather keep a bear hug on my joy!

Randy

Taken last night just prior to hitting RECORD. Look at my smiling face. I’m smiling because I’m anticipating your cooperation in giving me YOUR story for Project #CravingEncouragement. Wanna participate? Go here and find out how.

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Today’s show mostly features audio that was recorded here inside The Yellow Studio on the weekend of July 17, 2010. My lifelong best friend Stanley came to visit. I want you to lean more heavily into the close friendships you’ve got. Make more of them. Do it today. The moments are precious.

Randy

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Heb. 11:4 “By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he had witness borne to him that he was righteous, God bearing witness in respect of his gifts: and through it he being dead yet speaketh.”

The point is, our influence lives on even after we pass. Today’s episode is more literal.

Back on May 12, 2015 I published a blog post with this same title. It was the second anniversary of the death of my lifelong friend, Stanley James Elmore (April 11, 1957 – May 12, 2013). The blog post didn’t stay online all that long. I took it down fearing I had shared too much. You’d have thought I’d have learned better.

Because I had recorded a podcast episode on May 9, 2013 just days before Stanley died. I took my digital recorder with me to the gym that day. I never went inside the gym. Instead, I sat outside in my car. It was rainy and you could hear the rain hitting the roof of my car as I poured out my heart. It was the most intensely personal podcast I’d ever recorded and admittedly, it was selfish. It was self-therapy. I took the episode down after a bit because I just didn’t think I was being fair to you, the listener.

Two things prompt today’s show. One, lately I’ve had a few dreams about Stanley. Nothing extraordinary, just dreams where he and I are doing what we often did – talking and cutting up. Laughing. Being snarky. Two, within recent months a few people have asked about that episode I recorded in my car. Evidently they listened to it and remembered it.

Okay, I’ve got a third reason. The memory of somebody I loved very much. It never goes away. My heart isn’t as heavy as when I first lost him, but I have many days where I look at my phone and stare at his contact info…wishing he were just a click away.

Okay, there’s a fourth reason, too. And this one involves YOU. As I keep pressing along with Project #CravingEncouragement I want to leverage the story of my friendship with Stanley to encourage you to take advantage of today to reach out to somebody who is important to you. I know there are many reasons why friendships lose their zest. And there are often valid reasons why people grow apart. I’m not going to be presumptuous to urge you to repair those. If you want to, do it. If it’s possible. But instead, I’m encouraging you to lean more heavily into those relationships that ARE important, but perhaps some things haven’t been said that ought to be said. Or they haven’t been said in a long time. Make today the day you say them. Be brave. Be bold. Be courageous. You’ll be glad you did.

Now for some context. There are lots of podcasts with friends talking and while I appreciate the endeavor, as a listener I rarely find value. I respect the fact that the audio is recorded and those people will be thankful they did a show together. That doesn’t mean I get it. So frequently there are these inside jokes that only friends can understand. There’s the context of our friendship that few others can appreciate or understand. I know it was that way for me and Stanley.

But I want to provide you some context and along the way I’m going to share some recorded conversations that took place right here inside The Yellow Studio in July 2010. All I want you to listen for is the lifelong connection between two guys who were in their early 50’s at the time. Two guys who had known each other since birth. I just want you to hear the connection and love — not to think about US, but to think about yourself and whoever is that for you. I want you to be very selfish. I want you to think about yourself, your best friend or that somebody who can finish your sentences. That person who can communicate with you by merely sharing glances, or making some facial expression. Those are remarkable relationships that not everybody finds. Stanely and I didn’t go looking for it. It just happened. We got lucky right out of the gate. And we got lucky that it lasted 56 years. I thought our run would go longer. So did he.

For the longest time, he and I talked about producing a podcast. We even had the title, Two Friends Talking. I even registered the domain name. But, as with so many things in life, we never followed through. In one of these audio segments of our recorded conversation, Stanely talks about wanting to remedy his Internet connection to make it easier for us to have reliable Skype calls for the podcast. His Internet provider had sketchy service and unreliable speeds. We talked often on the cell phone, but we never sat down to record another conversation after July 2010. The podcast we planned went the way of my learning the guitar – it just never happened.

Here are some important points of context that I hope help you get value from today’s show.

My parents and Stanely parents were close friends. His dad was (and still is) a preacher. His father performed our wedding. His father also baptized both me and Rhonda (at different times; we didn’t even know one another then). His folks were very important people in my life. After Stanely passed, his mom passed. His dad is still living and doing well at 87.

Stanley and I shared faith. Church was the priority. We frequently talked about spiritual matters and the work we were doing. He lived near Joplin, Missouri and I was here in DFW when he passed. Both of us had lived in a variety of places, but we always kept in touch and saw each other as frequently as possible. It was one of those friendships where we picked up right where we left off. There was never any windup needed for our talks. We just hit the ground running as though we’d been talking together continuously without interruption.

Our early life began in Ada, Oklahoma. Stanely lived on one side of the big city park. I lived on the other side. We frequently dreamed of building something that would connect our houses. Like a tunnel. Childhood imaginations at work.

We couldn’t have been more different in some ways. And we couldn’t have been alike in others. Sense of humor was THE tie that bound us as kids. That continued to be a strong tie.

When Pee-Wee Herman’s Saturday kid show was on (Pee Wee’s Playhouse), we’d talk weekly and interject Pee Wee’s “secret word of the day” into our conversations, followed by school girl like laughter.

When we were kids he’d get mad as a wet hen whenever we played board games — if he lost or if he had to go last. Joni can tell you of how frequently he seemed to roll the dice making it where he’d have to go last in a game of SORRY or some other board game. Katy bar the door ’cause he was gonna pitch a fit. Funny.

We’d have sleepovers and they almost always wound up with us getting in trouble. Mostly, being told, “Boys, go to sleep.” Fat chance. Flashlights, crude boy humor and lots of laughter dragged well into the night. Being quiet and discreet was almost impossible ’cause those aren’t components of fun – quiet and discreet. And whenever we were together FUN wasn’t our middle name. It was our first name!

Pillow fights when we were very young always wound up with Stanley wheezing due to being allergic to almost everything, including feathers. Foam pillows helped with the wheezing, but not keeping us out of trouble.

One summer – in our pre-teen years – we practically memorized the entire contents of two volumes of Mad Magazine’s Snappy Answers To Stupid Questions. It was right up our alley because sarcasm was natural and easy for both of us.

The banter – this banter recorded in these audio snippets – is something I don’t suppose I’ll ever experience again. It’s impossible to explain to people who have never had a friendship that involves knowing what somebody is thinking just by looking at them. We both had it, with each other. We didn’t always need words. Sometimes just a look. A raised eyebrow. A smirk.

Stan and I used to talk on the phone re-living Dave Letterman’s stunts back in the early NBC days of his show. We’d watch it nearly every night and weekly chuckle about some of the bits.

We were pleased when Dave published some books of his famous Top Ten Lists. We spent many hours laughing ’til we cried. For instance:

Top 10 Least Popular Candy Bars

10. Lug-Nut
9. Turkish Prison Taffy
8. Hardened Toothpaste Mint Patties
7. Sunoco Resin Chews
6. Rev. Al’s Marshmallow Medallions
5. Mexican Monkey Brittle
4. Good `n’ Linty
3. Two Musketeers & a Guy with a Hacking Cough
2. Mookie Way
1. Roger Ebert’s Mystery Log

I was sad to see Dave retire even though I hadn’t been a regular viewer since he left NBC. Just another reminder that things end.

So many little things comprised our friendship and our conversations. When Stan arrived at my house that July weekend in 2010 we had a lengthy, laughable conversation about how many toiletries he brought with him. Thirteen different bathroom items. Three were medications so we didn’t count those, but he remarked at how much he was “like a girl” what with all the items on the bathroom counter. It was a long conversation with lots of chuckles along the way.

Like a Seinfeld episode. Talk could be about nothing, but we knew how to laugh together regardless of the topic. The conversations would almost always be fun, and funny. I captured a handful of hours of recorded conversation that weekend. Thankfully, I was able to share those recordings with his parents before his mom passed.

I miss him terribly. April and May continue to be some of the toughest months of the year for me since he passed. No death has impacted me as much. I’ve not loved anybody outside my immediate family more. But thankfully, I’ve got a head full of memories, photographs and a few digital files to keep him alive in my heart until we can see each other again on the other side.

I’ve had a strange love affair with the guitar for as long as I can remember. Which is odd since I never learned to play one. But I’ve always owned one, including some Martins along the way. Stan was always musical and when we were young he learned to play the bass guitar. When he came to stay with me for a few days in July 2010 he brought his Taylor guitar but found my Zager guitar pretty inviting. He played it the entire weekend he was here.

Reach out to your closest friend right now. Seize the day. Take advantage of your time together. It’ll end someday, leaving you with the memories you’ll cherish always.

 

 

 

P.S. Project #CravingEncouragement – I’d like you to participate by sending me your stories of a time when you were encouraged in a meaningful way. Go here to find out how you can participate. Thanks!

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Twice this week I got phone calls. From two separate people. People I care about. Not family. But people I love just the same.

Two different people. Two different circumstances. Different challenges.

Two people who trust me enough to lean on me for support. Two people who know me well enough (and who have let me know them well enough) to understand I’m a judgment-free zone.

This week was a rather slow week. 😉

I almost never go an entire day without getting such a call. I’m that guy! And I love being that guy. Because empathy is understanding and compassion is empathy in action.

Everybody has problems. Some problems are really awful. Others are more trivial but don’t feel that way at the moment. It’s our life and to us it’s important. Vexing. Worrisome. Painful. Fretful.

Again, I don’t judge it. I lean into my empathy (which is understanding), then I go all-in on compassion (which is the action empathy takes). But this isn’t about me. It’s about YOU. Well, okay, it’s about ALL OF US.

Let’s start with some hard truths.

Here in America, there’s quite a lot of political unrest. Some want to impeach the President. Some oppose that. Here’s the truth – your life might be impacted by the presidency, but not very much. The United States is still a free republic. Elected officials and unelected officials aren’t to blame for whatever may be wrong in your life. And they won’t help you fix it. Or sustain whatever success you may be experiencing. You may be very interested in all that stuff, which is fine. Just don’t fool yourself into thinking that if your candidate were in office, it’d all be better. No, it wouldn’t. It’ll be better when you contribute to making your own life – and the lives of others around you – better!

Your parents won’t save you. Well, okay, maybe they will. Maybe they’ll try. And in doing so they’ll be unintentionally hurting you more than they’re helping. If you’re under 40 there’s quite a lot you’ve yet to experience. Among them…being smacked in the mouth with a major economic downturn. If you’re under 30 and healthy odds are you don’t have much of a clue about adversity. Mom and dad can’t save you from every enemy attack. You have to learn to fight for yourself.

You’re not in full control, but that doesn’t give you the right to make excuses. I’m a Christian. If you’re not, even if you’re opposed to Jesus Christ, I’m not here to fight or berate your opposition. I’m simply providing you my context so you can better understand my perspective and why I believe what I do. This is important because humanism has elevated us – human beings – to godlike status. I don’t subscribe to that notion because I believe in God, I believe the Bible is the word of God, and I believe Jesus Christ is God’s Son who came from heaven and died so we could be reconciled back to God. In short, I believe Jesus is the Savior based on the Gospel story. Again, you don’t have to agree with me, but it explains why I don’t follow humanism and the notion that we have the degree of control stoics and other popular humanism philosophies espouse.

Accountability and control aren’t synonymous terms. At least not the way I’m using them. We’re all accountable. To God, to ourselves and to each other. But our control is limited. We’re unable to control all the things that may happen to us. Some things happen because of our own foolishness, our own ignorance and our own ineptness. But some things happen in spite of our best efforts. Sometimes things don’t work out even though we did everything as right as possible. External circumstances are often beyond our control. Timing is a real thing. So is serendipity. Then there are others. None of us are able to control others.

All of this is important not so we can make excuses or point fingers, but so we can be more determined to do our part to create and contribute to our own success. Our growth is largely within our control and nothing else.

“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.”
― Charles R. Swindoll

Who knows how accurate that is, but most of us can relate to it. And it certainly speaks to the truth that a great deal of our life is within our control. Which means we’re all without excuse to do the right thing. Without excuse to figure it out and move forward striving daily to improve.

Everybody has fear. 

No matter our age, if we’re an adult, we understand what lack of control feels like. We’re well-acquainted with fear.

The why of fear is simple: lack of control. We grow fearful when we’re beyond the reach of control. Nobody enjoys not having control. Our quest and desire for control may drive some of our biggest fears.

Hiding. It doesn’t work.

Running. That doesn’t work either.

We’re fooled into thinking those work though because at least when we run or hide…we’re in control. Unfortunately, coping with fear by running or hiding don’t work in our favor. They add to the destruction of fear. They comfort us with the deceit of control – control that is harmful.

Fear is likely THE thing that stops many of us from improving our lives. That’s why I’m giving it top billing.

But let’s dive into the four questions that I think can help anybody improve their life. Tap the brakes if you’re expecting something easy. Or if you’re expecting something terribly profound.

So here’s the first question. Yes, they are in a specific order, which I’ll explain as we move along.

“What’s right?” (Is this wrong?)

What do you use to establish any standards of behavior? Or do you?

There’s a wide range of philosophies incorporated by people. Some people have no moral apprehension about anything. If they want to do it, they do it. Scan the headlines and you’ll find behavior that you may think is deplorable, but somebody is living in that behavior. The same is true with people who have no governor that opposes criminal behavior. Prisons are filled with people who lacked any self-regulation against violating laws. Humans are capable of incredibly horrific behavior because not everybody has a standard of right and wrong. Others just ignore it long enough and wind up doing whatever they please until they’re stopped.

What about YOU?

Why do you believe some things are right and other things are wrong? Is it based strictly on hurting others? Does it include things that could hurt you?

I’ve already told you I’m a Christian so you know what standard I’m using. I don’t have to fret about civil laws because the Bible teaches people to obey those who “have rule” over us. The only exception, as prescribed by the Bible, is when civil laws – established by people – go against the laws of God. God comes first.

While that may make things a bit more cut and dried than how you choose to live, it’s not easy. Trying to living faithfully according to what God has outlined in His Word is often difficult. Self-sacrifice is self-control aren’t easy things, but they’re right.

If we’re going to improve our lives we have to begin with doing what’s right. Consider all the people who have gained some advantage through deceit, corruption, and dishonesty. Plenty of people are making millions of dollars each year through their own commitment to do wrong without remorse. Plenty of people are fulfilling their own sinful desires by consistently hurting others. Immoral, dishonest and corrupt behavior isn’t the path forward to growth and improvement. If you think it is, then you’re doomed right out of the gate. It’s only a matter of time.

When we’re working through our own anxiety or fretfulness we first have to ask, “What’s right?” What’s the right thing to do? What’s the wrong thing to do?

More personally, am I doing the right thing? Is what I’m doing wrong?

Doing the right thing won’t make the outcome easier. Likely, it’ll make it harder. I know we don’t enjoy that, but if we have no standard of right and wrong, or if we constantly compromise it, then nothing else matters. We’ll have a miserable life because every miserable person has a miserable life.

All the news of wealthy men involved in human trafficking and abusing children…and a host of other evil behaviors…these all indicate the depths of human depravity when people behave unregulated. An undisciplined life without standards.

People driven to please themselves at all costs will consider any evil to get what they want. Deceit. Corruption. Even murder. Lives without any standard of right and wrong.

Commit to something. Have a standard. Something you won’t compromise or negotiate. As Bob Dylan sang on his Slow Train Coming record…you gotta serve somebody. Most people, even people who have some sort of standard, are busy serving themselves. That’s not ideal for any of us. It doesn’t make us better. It doesn’t help us grow or improve.

When we ask ourselves this question, then we must answer it. That’s true for all these questions. They’re useless if we don’t have the courage to answer.

So what’s the answer to this first question? If in the moment of considering how things aren’t working as we want we ask and answer the question, then we’re closer to growth.

If the answer is, “What I’m doing isn’t right” then we can course correct. We can stop doing what we’re doing that’s wrong and start doing what’s right. It’s called repentance.

Dr. Henry Cloud wrote a pretty terrific book entitled, Never Go Back: 10 Things You’ll Never Do Again. Dr. Cloud talks about how we’re all benefited by repentance, or making up our mind that we’re never going to go back.

Until we resolve whether or not we’re behaving rightly or wrongly, we can’t advance. So first, figure this out. Then you’ll be prepared to face question number 2.

“What am I fearing?” (Why am I fearing this?)

This is at the heart of why things likely aren’t working. Usually, we are the problem.

This is personal accountability. It’s our determination to face our own behavior and choices. Not to point fingers. Not to place blame elsewhere. Not to focus on what may have been done to us, or what may have happened to us – even if it’s beyond our control – but rather to face the reality that if we’re doing to advance, then we have to make different choices and take different actions.

This addresses the question, “What’s stopping me?” Yes, you’re likely stopping yourself, but why? The answer is typically because you’re afraid of something.

Sometimes this can tough to answer alone. Others can help us. Fact is, others can always help us but we don’t always lean on the right “others” to help. Most of us enjoy finding people who will approve of whatever we decide, whatever we do. Those people aren’t serving us. We’re not improved by being surrounded by a bunch of “yes” people. Each of us needs to be challenged in the most positive ways. That’s not always an easy thing to accomplish, but it’s doable if we really want it badly enough.

Fear can be tough to identify. But if our lives are going to be improved…we have to find a way.

The fundamental fear we have, according to mental health experts and even neuroscience folks is a loss of control. That can be manifested in a variety of ways. And it doesn’t necessarily include every fear we may have. But it may be a great starting place.

Can you connect your fears with a loss or erosion of control? Again, either answer – yes or no – can help you figure out what’s really going on.

If the answer is YES, then keep digging. Why? Why is a loss of control creating the fear? How does it manifest itself? What are you feeling?

Psychologists and psychiatrists famously probe people to dig deeply into their past to uncover the roots of their emotions and feelings. We’re not able to do for ourselves quite what these professionals are able to do, but we can still make progress. Self-examination is a powerful tool.

Do you remember the first time you felt this way? What were the circumstances that created it?

We’re not just creatures of habit, but we’re also creatures of patterns. We behave far more predictably than we may like to think. Or than we realize.

I’ll pick on myself in order to help you better understand the value of question two. A few years ago I decided I wanted to make a professional transition. I’m in the middle of it – well, maybe more accurately, I’m in the midst of it – right now. I honestly don’t know how far out I am. Or where the finish line may be. It’s a slog. What Seth Godin calls, “the dip.” The choice is turn around and swim back to where you started. Or keep swimming because you figure eventually you’ll reach the other side. And that’s where you intended to go.

For a variety of reasons that have nothing to do with the story, I need to transition into a business where I have flexibility. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to work. Or that I don’t want to work hard. Or that I don’t want to put in hours. I don’t shy away from any of that, and quite frankly, I crave most of it. So that’s not it. I just have some other responsibilities that really prohibit me from having standard 8 to 5 hours.

I’d love to tell you that I’m a natural-born entrepreneur, but I’m not. My entire career has been mostly as a hired-gun running a business that didn’t belong to me. About a decade ago I stepped away from that and became a solopreneur, mostly doing “roll your sleeves up, get your hands dirty” consulting. It naturally morphed into more coaching, which was much more my speed. It better suited my natural wiring.

Until I discovered something else that even suited me better. It happened as I dove deeply into self-examination. Which is why I’m going to encourage you to embrace that practice more.

As I looked deeply inside myself I realized some things that went way back to my childhood. One, empathy. It’s easy for me. Empathy is understanding how others feel. I don’t have to work at it. Fact is, my empathy is too high. Yes, that’s possible I think. Because sometimes it gets in my way. I find it difficult to disengage empathy, which sometimes is helpful. Two, compassion. Compassion is to empathy as traction is to horsepower on a car. If a car has tremendous horsepower, but no traction – it doesn’t move. Compassion is the behavior prompted by empathy. Three, connection. Deep connection. Small talk exhausts me. I enjoy deep dives with people. And I much prefer to hear what’s happening with others than to share what’s happening with me. I love to listen and ask questions to better understand people. And four, service. I’m driven to figure out if I might be able to help. And if so, how. I’m obsessed with making some positive difference in the lives of people. That’s the reason for this podcast.

Well, these weren’t new revelations to me. I’d known all of these things since I was a kid. I just got in deeper touch with them. I probably did what you sometimes do…I worked too hard to be something I wasn’t. I wished I were different. There were things I wished I were — like being an extrovert instead of an introvert. But I’m not. And I’m never going to be.

My fear? Well, too many to share here, but suffice to say, chief among them was the fear that I wouldn’t be enough. That I may not be enough to make the professional transition I most wanted to make. Fear that it would require me to be somebody I’m not – mostly, a hard-charging, take no prisoners sales guy. A brazen hussie of self-promotion. It’s just not who I am. It feels awful to me.

Why did I have these fears? Because it’s what people constantly told me. Because others I saw espoused it and lived that way. I found these voices very unappealing. I didn’t feel I was remotely in my “element” around these people. I found them pompous, arrogant, and shallow. And upon deeper investigation realized they all had almost a complete lack of empathy. Which meant compassion wasn’t part of their chosen behavior. They all relished being gurus. Each of them mostly wanted to be the person at the front of the room. The person on whom the spotlight was always shining. Something I never wanted!

As I faced my fears I realized I my real truth – my genuine fear – wasn’t that I wouldn’t be enough. It was that I’d have to become like these people for whom I had little or no admiration. Was my goal or dream worth that? No. But was I seeing things as they really are? Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves because we’ve got two more questions to go. I concluded that my fears needn’t be fears at all because it was going to impossible for me to be anybody other than who I am. So I made a deal with myself. I committed to being more fully who and what I am. That meant I was going to be forced to carve out my own path. I’d have to find a way to do thing congruent with who I am. I wouldn’t be able to follow some formula or process that worked for others.

That prompted a new fear – would I be able to do that? That’s where I’m at today. I still have that fear, but I’m working hard to face it. The real fear is that it won’t work. I’m fearful that there may be no other way to success. Deep down I don’t believe that, but the daily temptation to think that is ever-present.

That means just one thing — I’m back to that first fear of not being enough. Not being enough to push through and find a way to succeed. In a word, confidence.

Some of that may resonate with you. I hope it helps. It leads to the next question where we can continue the story of my own quest for improvement professionally.

“Where’s the evidence?” (Is there evidence for what I’m thinking and how I’m feeling?)

Confidence. Sometimes all of us are challenged with it. Maybe we’re overly confident when we should be more cautious. Other times we lack confidence and there’s no good reason for it. It’s just our own head trash.

Now that my fear was identified, where was my evidence? Especially my evidence for not having sufficient confidence?

Well, I had evidence of how some could achieve what I was after. But their methods and practices weren’t remotely congruent with my identity. Or how I’m naturally wired. Or in keeping with my best talents and skills.

I also had evidence that contradicted how I was feeling and what I was fearing. For the better part of 4 decades, I’ve successfully operated businesses. I’ve helped generate hundreds of millions of dollars in sales. I’ve led hundreds of people. I’ve managed payrolls, capital expenditures, negotiated real estate deals, and done most anything you can think of in building and growing a business. So I asked the question, “Where the evidence that you can’t do this…or that you may be unable to do this?”

I didn’t have any evidence. What I did have is evidence that I simply hadn’t done it. Yet.

That’s hardly the same thing as evidence that it can’t be done. Or that I’m unable to do it. The evidence all points to the same thing: I just have to figure out a way that works for me. A way that’s congruent with who and what I am.

Yes, I could abandon it and say, “It’s too hard.” I could give up. But then I’d miss out on doing work that I truly think is ideally suited for me. Work I feel as “meant” to do as any work I’ve ever done. That’s too much to give up.

Remember those calls I got. The ones I mentioned at the very beginning. Both of them involved people who expressed feeling a specific thing – something not good. Things like feeling family members no longer love us. Things like others feel we should be doing this or that. In every case, they were feelings projected onto others. Both these people were fearful of what others were thinking or feeling. Evidence? There wasn’t any. Just worry. Fears.

Both people admitted they had no evidence for their feelings. Better yet, they had compelling evidence to the contrary. Not only did people NOT feel the way they were fretting about…they felt just the opposite.

I know that’s not always the case, but it demonstrates how we can be our heads twisted up thinking something and feeling something that is completely false. Now you can better understand why that moniker about F.E.A.R. is correct.

False Evidence Appearing Real

There really is no evidence. Just fear. Suspicions.

Much of our head trash is focused on false beliefs. What we think is just false. Like my thinking I won’t be good enough. Or thinking I may be unable to figure it out. I’ve figured things much more complicated.

So it’s not easy. That doesn’t mean I’m not able to do it. So I can’t do it the way some urge me to do it. That doesn’t mean there’s no other way to get it done. I just don’t have any evidence to support my fears or lack of confidence.

But maybe YOU do. I’m not going to say there’s never any evidence for what we fear most. If there is evidence to support it, what are we going to do? Well, that’s our last and fourth question. And it’s appropriate no matter how we answer all the previous questions. You’ll notice none of the questions requires a specific answer before we can advance. No matter what, we can grow and improve. We have to be committed to it though.

“What’s next?” (What’s my very next move? Now what should I do?)

Patience is a virtue. It’s hard though when you’re in the battle fighting for your life. You want the fight to be over. You want to just be able to plant your flag and declare victory. The grind isn’t fun. But it’s often necessary.

You’re going to feel like you need to have every step between where you and where you want to be figured out. We’re tempted to feel that if we don’t know every single step toward achieving the goal…then we’ll never be able to get there.

“How?” is the big question we all want to ask…and answer. Look at my circumstances. I’d love to know HOW, but right now I’m in the throes of figuring it out. While I’ve got some ideas I don’t fully know. There are no guarantees. Right now I’ve got to work on deepening my belief so I can grow my confidence. I know confidence is key. I’m certain of it because I’ve seen it work more than any other single ingredient.

You have to figure out the next step. Just that next one.

Without that you’re stuck. We all know that feeling. Being stuck is a surefire way to fail. At anything and everything. So we have to avoid being or remaining stuck. This means we have to take some action. Maybe it’ll be the right action that will propel us forward in a big way. Maybe it’ll be action that doesn’t work as we hope. But there’s just one way to find out. Take the action.

We have to find out. Either way we win.

If we take the action and it works out favorably, great. We’re on our way. Now we can tweak it and do it more. And better.

If we take action that doesn’t work, great. We’ve learned that we need to make an adjustment. We likely need to go back to question 3, too. What does the evidence tell us? It tells us THAT action didn’t work this time. That’s likely all it tells us. But we too often conclude the evidence is that we’ll never be able to do it. Or something worse.

These four questions are like an endless loop. We work them constantly. We ask each of them with sufficient courage to answer them. Keep moving forward. Don’t regress. And if you do, catch it early and stop so you can change direction.

 

 

Project #CravingEncouargement

Today’s segment isn’t from an LTW listener. I’m still scheduling people and soliciting your stories. So far I’ve encountered more shyness than I ever suspected. Too many people want to be anonymous. I’d never guessed this would be so hard. So I need you people to step up. 😉

Seriously, those who contributed to my project financially and earned a Skype or Zoom call, I need to get those scheduled. But I’m determined to share stories worth sharing even if I have to go get them elsewhere, which is what I’m doing today.

Today’s story comes from John Pennington. I don’t know who he is, but in September 2018 he wrote a Facebook post that went viral enough to garner almost 500,000 shares, over 68,000 comments and over 427,000 likes. That’s the only commentary I’m going to make because I don’t know anything more about John. Here’s what he posted.

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Music fuels a lot of episodes around here. Today’s show is no different. It was sparked by a song that Drew and Ellie Holcomb recorded on their last record, Dragons (August 2019). Track 3, “But I’ll Never Forget The Way You Make Me Feel.”

Drew and Ellie met in college. They’re both 37. They’ve been married for about 13 years. I don’t know much more than that, except what we can discern from the music they create together. I rather think that after 13 years they’re still in love with each other and their music. It’s a pretty sweet gig they’ve got going.

I’ve got my own sweet gig going. And today I’m going to tell you all about it. Okay, maybe I’m not going to tell you ALL about it, but I’m going to tell you enough about it to spark your own reflections into your own life. Especially the most important people in your life.

I intended this show – today’s show – to be something different. I even teased it over at the private Facebook group. Love, Laughter and Levity.

The more I worked on it the worse things got. I kept getting stuck. And it’s not because those topics don’t have a heavy influence in my life. I’m not really sure why it was so hard. I started noodling around with the last topic, levity. Maybe that was a poor strategy. It’s a pretty easy subject for me really because in spite of my sober demeanor I rather enjoy snarkiness, sarcasm, and levity. And I laugh pretty regularly.

I was walking, as I am wont to do in the wee hours and listening to tunes. At some point, I activated Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors latest record, Dragons. First up, a tune called, “Family.” It’s a short little lively song. 2 minutes 20 seconds.

It’s a great video featuring many of Nashville’s musicians and their family. Well, that’s all she wrote. I was stuck now on a different course for this episode. I instantly went to the first L word of the proposed title, LOVE.

I’m a hopeless romantic. And very sentimental. Always have been. There is no cure. Warning this episode is going to lean into all this so if that’s not your thing, I get it. It’s a shame ’cause you’re really missing out on some of life’s most terrific elements in my opinion. But that’s okay. If you want to hit STOP and catch the next episode, I’ll try to understand even though it won’t be easy! 😀

By the time track 3 launched into my earbuds, a song I’d listened to many, many times before…I was a mess. “But I’ll Never Forget The Way You Make Me Feel.”

Here’s a 37-year-old couple singing about growing old together. Him, unable to remember specific details perhaps, but always able to remember the way she makes him feel.

We’re 62 now. Me and Rhonda. We are growing older together. We’re pushing hard on entering year 42 of our marriage. Year 45 of being a couple. Being 17 or 18 and in love is pretty terrific. Being 62 and just as in love is even better.

It was likely a Saturday, but I don’t remember that detail. Guess I’m a lot like Drew’s song. But that’s about the only thing I don’t remember. We were out at a park at the far end southern end of Highland Road in Baton Rouge. Flying kites. At the northern end of Highland Road is the entrance to LSU. I lived somewhere between LSU and the park off Highland Road. Rhonda had come down from Ft. Worth to visit. We were already a couple. I was mad about her and getting more so by the day.

Attending classes at LSU was drudgery except for handwriting daily letters to take by the Student Union to drop into the mail. And checking my mailbox daily for her letters. It was a habit we maintained for over 2 years. Such was life in the 70’s when you don’t have Internet, cell phones or social media.

The music that weekend was a heavy rotation of Poco’s album, Crazy Eyes. I was a bigtime Richie Furay fan, the leader of Poco. He had the talent to pull off a 10-minute title track song in what we then called progressive country music. My eyes were crazy for this Texas girl.

We’re at this park flying kites and I’m supposing my sister or somebody else is with us because this picture I’ve posted isn’t an old school selfie. It’s the old Kodak Instamatic camera I used. Very old school and as you can very low resolution. But I’m glad we had it or today we wouldn’t have any pictures. Kids today have no idea. They take being able to whip out their phone and take thousands of photos every month for granted. Not to mention how spectacularly detailed the photos are today. At the time I just felt lucky to have a camera that took a film cartridge, which meant I could pop in a cartridge with about 16 picture capacity and I didn’t have to spool the film through the camera, which is what you had to do with an SLR camera. I wasn’t rich enough to afford one of those. Besides, I wouldn’t have known how to work it. My camera was just a black box, point and shoot camera. Then you put the cartridge into an envelope, wrote your name on the outside, sealed it and gave it to the person at the counter of the drug store where they shipped it off somewhere to be developed. Within a week or so you had hard copies of your photos. And you usually got a second set of prints at no charge. Such a deal!

Nobody had to tell me to wear a collared shirt in the 1970s. 😀 Look at that hideous monster of a collar worn under that polyester leisure suit. I don’t know if I’m more ashamed of the outfit or my hair. Or those sideburns. It’s all atrocious. But look at that gorgeous girl under my arm. Are you gonna question her taste? Well, okay, maybe. But you can’t question my taste. Not when it came to her. So what if I wasn’t able to stylishly clothe myself? Or find a barber capable of trimming those sideburns? I had found a girl in Texas, put my arms around her and I was NOT going to let her go.

Well, the way she makes me feel started on July 2, 1975. Our first date. I won’t get all mushy and tell you how stupidly, head over heels in love I was, but I was. By January 2, 1978 we were walking down the aisle. If you think this garb was embarrassing then you’ve not seen our wedding photos where I was attired in a white tux looking like a big polar bear with a mustache. And you didn’t think I could top this leisure suit look! You idiot…my lack of style knows no bounds.

But I could look half-way decent. Even moderately cool. Even if it was in a plaid shirt with an over-sized collar. Here’s proof. Me outside of Rhonda’s house in Ft. Worth with car keys in hand. I’m likely about to head out and begin my 11-hour trek back to Baton Rouge. There was only four-lane Interstate between DFW and Shreveport. After that, it was mostly 2 lane highway dodging sugar cane wagons. Don’t let my slight smile fool you. I was dying inside knowing I’d have to spend a full day driving home alone leaving my heart and most everything I cared about right there on Nancy Lane.

I kept a journal log in my car where I tracked all my gasoline fill-ups and my mileage. So I’m sure I knew how many trips I made to see her, but I’ve long forgotten it by now. I can tell you this – it wasn’t nearly enough to suit me. And we’re talking about taking off work when the stereo store closed Friday evening – after begging the boss to let me off on a SATURDAY! Retail’s biggest day. I’d blitz out around 7pm and pull onto Nancy Lane where Rhonda lived around 6am Saturday morning. Thus would begin a 30-hour-weekend together before I had to load into Sundance, my 1972 Pontiac “hot rod,” and hoof it back to Red Stick. Here’s another pic of a good-bye – us standing beside Sundance and me not wanting to let her go. Those trips back home sucked. 😉 I was saved only by playing loud music all the way home!

This went on for over 2 years. All the while my life was in turmoil at home because I hated school, had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and the girl I loved was 11 hours away. Nothing would turn around until we got married because then I jumped into journalism school where I fell into what I felt I was meant to do. Write. Create. Fulfill curiosity. Communicate.

Selling stereo gear, too. Well, selling it was mostly listening to music to show it off. I loved that, too.

We’re now 3 years or so down the line from that first date. It’s been an arduous 3 years. A lot has changed. A lot had changed in me.

Oh, this picture of me taken the week of our first date shows that I was quite cool, hip and handsome – none of that changed, of course! But most everything else had changed. All because this girl from Ft. Worth was making me feel different than I’d ever felt before.

Over the year I’d lose the hair and the mirrored sunglasses, but not much else. 😀

Okay, I’d lose a lot more. Or gain a bit. Come to think of it I lost and gained at the same time over the years. Stop laughing, you’re doing it too!

Let’s go back to the Drew and Ellie tune that prompted today’s show and even serves as the title. It’s early in the morning, the song is playing in my earbuds and I start to cry. I admit it. I was crying. And not just barely. Largely. Not quite weeping, but close.

I keep walking and listening. The song ends. The next song starts to play and I hit STOP. I don’t want to listen to it. I go back and listen to this song again. I’m embracing this weepy moment. It ends and now I’m ready for silence.

I keep walking.

Now I’m trying to figure out what I’m feeling. It’s a symphony of feelings. Grateful. Thankful. Happy. Sad. In love. Remembering. I’m thinking of these Kodak moments. I’m thinking of all the moments not captured. Mostly, I’m thinking of how I need to do more. Be more. For her. I’m wondering if I’ve given her a life she wanted. A life she expected when she first said, “Yes” to being asked out on a date. I’m wondering in this moment if she has regrets. If she feels like she got it right by agreeing to be my side all these years.

Me? I know I got it right and life has been largely not what I had ever planned. But mostly things had worked out. Some things have gone very wrong, but most things have gone very right. There’s only one major thing that went wrong and it’s enormous, but not suitable to talk about. Except to let you know our lives are very imperfect. We’ve suffered heartbreak and sorrow. But there’s one important detail you should know – mostly our heartbreak and sorrow haven’t come at our own hands. That is, we’ve not intentionally hurt each other.

I keep walking. I keep thinking. Trying to figure out why this flood of emotions is happening.

I’m sad and happy at the same time. Sad that so many years have passed and happy to have experienced so many. I’m thinking of Drew and Ellie, 37-years-old. 13 years into their marriage. I’m remembering our life together and I’m thinking of those first years in married housing at LSU. Life inside 540 square feet.  I’m thinking of riding my bike to classes and all over the campus before heading to work in the afternoons. I’m remembering our joint cleaning efforts of our little apartment every Saturday morning. I’m thinking of how two kids, married and in love, can feel so free inside such a small space. Mostly, I’m thinking of how terrific that space was and wondering if I’ve ever been as happy. When life was simple. And most of our existence was the campus of a major university. I had gone from loathing the place to loving the place. All because that girl in the pictures made me feel very differently about it all. And about my life!

Then it happened again. Just as I’m getting my emotions under control I lose them again. I’m thinking, “Where did the time go?” Mostly I’m feeling I didn’t seize every moment as I should have. Nobody does. It’s impossible. Life would be precarious if we could. Life has to be routine or we’d all go crazy. But I’m regretting the ordinariness of it. I’m regretting that sanity demands habit and routine. I’m wishing life could be – could have been – as adventurous as those early years.

As the walk continues and I feel like I’m settling down emotionally I settle into the practical reality that life is largely routine. In fact, I gave a sermon at church Wednesday night about Samson. For some reason, I was inspired to mention how my maternal grandmother – Marie – behaved with tremendous predictability. We all, including me, called her “Re” (that’s her in the pale blue dress in the picture above; that’s me in the white jacket on the other side of the table). Her life was extremely routine but in all the best ways. She tended to folks, cooked and baked for folks and was pretty much a woman of service her entire life. It’s just who she was and what she did. Every day. Nothing amazing. Nothing award-winning. Nothing the world would describe as grand achievement. But to the lives she touched, she made a difference. My point, in my sermon, was that her daily routine was a dedication to righteous, spiritual pursuits. Samson was daily pursuing selfishness. Our lives are largely defined by the ordinary, daily pursuits of our life. Our routine.

I’m not regretting the routine so much as I’m now thinking about how I may be able to improve engineering something more. If only now and again. Adventure is the word I keep dwelling on. But simplicity is the other word that’s dominating my thoughts. And my feelings.

Rhonda has a sewing room. Coupled with my Yellow Studio the two rooms are almost as large as our entire first apartment – that 540 square foot apartment at LSU. But man was it terrific. Cozy. Not cramped. Unfancy, simple and perfect in many ways. Okay, the washer and dryer in the bathroom were less than ideal. And the kitchen had a pretty rinky-dink refrigerator and stove. But I’d go back in a heartbeat. And likely find that my memories are more sentimental than reality. But I don’t think so.

The moon is not nearly as high in the sky as it was just a few weeks ago. I used to be able to walk in the wee hours of the morning and the moon would be almost directly overhead. When it was full, the light would be bright enough to easily see where you’re going. But now, it’s darker. The moon isn’t full tonight and if overhead is 12 o’clock in the sky, tonight…the moon is sitting around 10 o’clock. But directly overhead is The Big Dipper. Even here in a suburban neighborhood it’s easy to see.

I stare at the sky and keep walking. It’s quiet. I remove my earbuds to hear only the sound of my own steps. No traffic. No dogs barking. Some birds are out roaming the ground for food. I’m guessing insects, but what do I know? Not nearly enough…about birds anyway.

I’m thinking of the Yellow Studio and all my books, CD’s and stuff. Rhonda has been looking for some sewing patterns for 2 days. She can’t remember where she put them. It’s been driving her crazy. We both acknowledge that we’ve got so much stuff…we can’t keep up with it. It wasn’t always that way.

From LSU we bought our first little house. And life really got good. I missed the campus, but we had our own 2 bedroom place now with a full kitchen and felt like we now had a mansion. And Zeke, our first pet – a black Lab – joined us in a big back yard with BIG trees. The house was just a simple frame house, but it may as well have been a multi-million dollar estate for us. We had a new maroon Toyota Corolla hatchback named Roony. Monthly cost, $122. And our new mortgage was $222. We both worked and went to school. It may have been the financial zenith of our life. 😉 Not that our income was at a zenith, but our cost containment sure was. Yet, we had anything we wanted. Not too tough since we’re both practical people who have never been impulsive with money.

There was one major element of our life that wasn’t so terrific. Some won’t likely understand it, and that’s okay. But spiritually – that is, our church life – wasn’t very good. We knew we needed to elevate that part of our life and for us, that meant we needed to move. NO small thing since it meant leaving school. Rhonda is smarter than me. Certainly a better student. She was accustomed to making all A’s. Top scores. Until I got into journalism school my college career was marred with mediocrity. I had been a good student all through public school, but frankly, I hadn’t learned how to really study. At least not a subject I really didn’t care about. I was a great listener and note-taker. That worked for me all through public school. It stopped working when I got to LSU and discovered that self-study was mostly required. Cutting lots of classes didn’t help matters.

Once I entered the College of Journalism my grades shot up to the top across the board. I was into it. My interest and curiosity drove me to excel. But…

I knew I was never going to enter the world of professional journalism. I didn’t know how the skills would help me, but they did. In business. In life. The problem, at the time of our dilemma, was that I was closing in on my degree. I was about 18 hours shy of graduation when we moved out of town.

Was it a regret? Yes and no. Leaving town for the reasons we did? No. Not earning my degree? Yes. Rhonda not earning her degree? Even more so. She’s so smart she deserved to earn it. More so than me.

We had no way of knowing at the time, but it had absolutely no impact on my career. Well, to be fair — how can you ever know? That’s the thing about decisions. You only know the outcome of the choices you made. You never really know the outcomes of those other options – the paths you didn’t take. You can speculate all day long, but you just don’t know. I never cared about not having it until the last few years. Likely just the result of growing older and wishing we both had achieved something we were plenty sharp enough to achieve. Crying and spilled milk leaps to my mind.

By now the sky is still dark. I’m still walking. Listening to the sounds of the city come alive. The sounds of traffic in the distance are picking up, but it’s still very quiet. I click PLAY and listen to the song a 4th or 5th time.

“But I’ll never forget the way you make me feel.”

Now I’m wondering how I’ve made her feel. Have I made her feel as good about her life choices as she’s made me feel? I hope so. But as I walk I wonder.

Fast forward our lives and by the time we’re 25 we’ve been married slightly more than 4 years. Our son was born when we were 23. The daughter, who bore a middle name of the grandmother I loved so much – Marie – came quickly after. We were having to figure things out very quickly, but we were at long last where we knew we needed to be spiritually. We were in Edmond, Oklahoma where an older preacher whom I had great respect for lived. Church was always the priority for us. And our family. Rhonda and I had met at church. We shared the Faith. We shared in our devotion to the Faith. We were raising and training our children in the Faith. That’s what took us to the OKC area, specifically Edmond.

Being part of a congregation was important to us. I was always active in church work having delivered my first “talk” (not sure how much of a sermon it was) when I was 11. I never aspired to be an evangelist, but I wanted to be the most competent congregational teacher possible – a public teacher delivering sermons in a local congregation. An elderly evangelist was in Edmond and I began to study with him weekly.

Eventually, my career took a solid turn for the better, too. I was running a retail company. Still in consumer electronics.

And we were both burning the candle at both ends. I was working about 80 hours a week and spending significant time in church work, preaching about four times each month while studying with my mentor. Rhonda had her hands full with two toddlers and her own work. I don’t know how either of us did it, but we did. When you’re young you have no idea what’s possible or what’s impossible. You just do what you have to do. Well, come to think of it – nothing changes much when you’re older. 😉

Fast forward past some very tough times. Some very good times. Some ordinary times. Much like your life. And everybody else’s. Life happened. We made the most of it mostly. At other times we struggled to figure out what was happening. Unable to make the most of anything because we felt like we were fighting just to remain alive. But we did survive. Life gave us lines, wrinkles, blemishes, and bruises. The other day I picked up two grandsons from school and Jake, the 10-year-old was showing some scar. I said, “I’ve got a million of them.” I only showed him three – all created from orthopedic surgeries. Most of mine aren’t made by a surgeon though. And they’re not all visible, or physical.

I’m meandering my way back home. I’m thinking of what we’ve accomplished together. I’m thinking of the millions and millions of dollars I’ve managed through the years of running businesses. I’m thinking of the doctors and surgeons she’s served. I’m thinking of our church work and the people we’ve tried to influence for good. I’m thinking of Re and all that she missed. I’m thinking of Rhonda’s mom who died shortly after we were married. She was only 43. I’m thinking of all she missed. I’m thinking of all our stuff – the physical things that at some point seem important. Even urgent. I’m back inside that little apartment at LSU. I’m thinking of how all our possessions would fit in one of the smallest Uhaul trucks you could rent. And how happy I was. How happy we were. And I keep thinking and walking.

In spite of the heartbreaks and sorrows, it’s still impossible for me to forget the way she makes me feel.

With all the joys, laughter and victories, it’s still impossible for me to forget the way she makes me feel.

I know our lives are horribly imperfect. I also know I’ve let her down more times than I can count. Not because I planned it or intended it, but because I’m often lame like that. I’m remembering the promises I made when we were young. Promises I’ve tried to keep, but in youthful exuberance didn’t realize some would be impossible for me. She made me feel confident though. So confident I thought I could give her the world. Time proved me wrong. Overly confident.

Part of me is wishing I could have just an hour with my future self 45 years ago. Then I smile, realizing an hour wouldn’t be anywhere near enough time. My smile widens as I realize my future self would have likely scared me, making me fearful of even going outside. And the result would have been no adventure. No drama. Just blandness. And neither of us signed up for that.

I’m resolved to fix some things. Work on myself more deeply. Work on making her life better in any ways I can. I don’t fully know how – not at this hour – but I’m confident I’ll figure it out. I’m a smart guy even if I am 18 hours shy of a degree. 😉

I’m over an hour into the walk. I know my body needs rest, but my mind won’t permit it. Not now. Not with these new preoccupations about the girl from Ft. Worth.

Jake, that same 10-year-old grandson, and I were watching a Charlie Brown cartoon on TV after school the other day. Charlie Brown was smitten by the “little red-headed girl” and was too embarrassed to even speak with her. I had found my little-blondish-red-headed girl, had the courage to ask her out and here we are four decades down the road together. As I head toward home, walking in the dark with only the moonlight, starlight and illumination of my iPhone I realize there are many things about life I’d love to improve. Burdens I’d love to remove for her. Burdens I wish she could remove for me. But I’m heading home knowing that we may never be free from worries, burdens, and failures. I just know the girl grabbing my arm sometimes still grabs my arm. And just like I did when I was a teenager, I’m holding onto her for dear life. Because that’s what it is. A dear – a very dear – life. Because I’m never going to forget the way she makes me feel.

 

Project #CravingEncouragement – Dave Jackson

The maiden voyage of this project kicks off with a good friend, a long-time supporter of Leaning Toward Wisdom, Dave Jackson. Dave is a professional podcast coach who helps people launch and grow their podcast.

Dave’s main website is at the School of Podcasting

He and Jim Collison also co-host a live-streaming and podcast show at Ask The Podcast Coach

Thanks for the support and the stories, Dave!

Randy

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 29:55 — 27.6MB)

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | iHeartRadio | Email | RSS | More

It only took one day. To dismantle the Yellow Studio.

It took a small generous community of podcast supporters. To help make it become a reality.

The donors are now on a special email list where I’ve been keeping them updated. This group will continue to remain special and enjoy some inside updates. It’s just one small way I can thank you for making the Rode Rodecaster Pro possible.

Now, let’s geek out just a little bit for those of you interested in the technicalities of podcasting. For the rest of you, bear with me.

Years ago when I built The Yellow Studio there were basically two methods or workflows used in podcasting. The first was by far the most popular because it was the least expensive route, RECORDING. To be fair, all podcasts are recorded. That became the very definition of the medium – serialized, subscribable audio content. People could listen at will. On their own timetable. It was all pretty slick and we were as excited to get an email as we were to get a new episode of our favorite podcast.

RECORDING methodology just required a microphone and some software (much of it free). To gussy up the sound you needed fancier software. This also meant you spent time editing. The first recording wouldn’t necessarily be the final version. This workflow demanded significant after-the-fact work.

BROADCASTING was the other methodology. This wasn’t nearly as popular because it required hardware. And hardware was (still is) expensive. The benefits are high. The minute you hit “record” the sound is recorded digitally exactly as it will sound when listeners hit “play.” Other than editing for content – not for sound quality – it’s more of a “what you hear is what you get” process.

I instantly wanted to go the BROADCAST route because I preferred to put my work in ahead of hitting the record button. It wasn’t about avoiding work. At least not for me. It was about when to do that work. I wanted to spend time doing the work ahead of recording, not afterward.

This meant investing in gear. Thankfully, I had the ability to make the investment. And I had some expert help in figuring out what I should get.

Click here for the episode I recorded in 2015 to answer the persistent question, “What does your studio look like?”

I embarked on finding and assembling equipment that was mostly broadcast quality. Built to withstand hours and hours of non-stop operating without any problems. In short, I was building a small 2-mic station with just about everything other than a transmitter. My transmitter was going to be the Internet.

The microphones came first. Two Heil Sound PR40 microphones. Others picked them because of longtime broadcaster/podcaster, Leo Laporte. Leo is a tech guy who has enjoyed radio and Internet success. He used the Heil PR40.

Well, I didn’t know of Leo when I got the PR40s. But I had heard of Bob Heil because I was very into music. I also had (still have it) a fondness for the sound of great condenser microphones, but I knew my space wouldn’t be ideal for a condenser mic because they pick up EVERYTHING. My space was going to be pretty solid for recording, but it wasn’t going to be like a professional voice booth (commonly used by voiceover artists) or like a professional recording studio with extensive sound isolation. Enter the PR40. Its large diaphragm has condenser mic qualities in a dynamic mic.

Two Heil PR40s, each on its own boom arm and mounted inside its own shock mount. Those were the first items purchased.

Next came the coveted Aphex 230 microphone preamps. Radio people and voiceover artists alike have run to the Aphex sound for years. Microphones have to be plugged into something that can provide enough gain so you get sound. Enter the preamps.

The Aphex 230s – one for each mic – came next. They were among the first items installed in the six-unit gear rack. These units included things like noise gates, compressors, limiters, deessers and all sorts of sonic goodies to make your voice sound outstanding.

The Aphex units were great for making me sound terrific, but what about people coming through on Skype or some other Internet service? I had a TC Electronic Finalizer Express which put a nice bit of compression over everything going through the system. More knobs, dials and light than you could shake a stick at, but it’s a terrific piece of gear.

Phone calls? What about taking phone calls? I wanted to do what radio stations do – patch phone calls directly into my recordings. Enter the staple piece in every radio station in the land (at the time), a Telos One. One button activates it, but the electronics inside the box provide telephonic magic. It was connected to my landline, but we went VOIP, then it was connected to that.

All of that went through a small broadcast quality mixer made by Broadcast Tools, a Promix 12. Built like a tank, the Promix had long-throw faders (that means they’re large and the sound range is more subtle than short-throw faders). The Promix12 is a 2 mic mixer, but has some cool broadcasting features like built-in mix/minus so I could patch my Telos One into channel 4 and not fret about the person on the phone hearing themselves echo. No special engineering skills required.

But my system was a fully balanced audio system. That meant, it was professional-grade and used only XLR or insert cables made with coax and professional connectors. What about connecting output from a laptop, or a phone, or an iPad? I had no way to do that until I invested in a Yamaha MG124c mixer, another 12 channel mixer that had RCA inputs (something the Promix12 lacked). Now I could take the output of the Yamaha and patch it into the Promix12 (using a single channel on the Promix12).

To route all that into my computer required an interface of some sort. I had two different versions of a firewire interface made by Presonus. Firewire was more commonplace when I began. It has since declined in popularity, but I went that route at first because the speed was much faster than USB.

For headphone management, I got an Aphex 454 Headpod. Sounded GREAT! It provided ample volume to 4 separate headphones, each with a dedicated volume control.

Cable management was a challenge right off the bat. And figuring out the cabling was a chore all its own.

I never did figure out the sheer footage of cables used to connect all this stuff, but it was RIDICULOUS. The number of connections was also ridiculous because the signal chain was anything, but straight, short and simple. Cables going into one thing, out of that thing and into some other thing.

I figured that’s how it would always be. There just wasn’t any other way to have the workflow I wanted. BROADCAST.

Heat.

Let’s not overlook the heat produced by a rack of gear like that. Temperatures here inside The Yellow Studio were likely 2-5 degrees hotter than any other room. Fine during the winter. Not so great during the summer.

Power.

We’re not talking BIG power suckage, but everytime there was a thunderstorm or risk of power going out…I’d scramble to unplug the rack (even though it was all going through good quality power management to protect it). I wasn’t going to risk a brown out or black out from wrecking any equipment.

Then things changed.

It was the summer of 2015. Rode, an Australian company, acquired Aphex, one of my favorite suppliers. I didn’t quite know what Rode might do with Aphex, but I loved Rode mics (I have a Rode NTG2 shotgun mic in my mic locker) and I loved Aphex stuff.

By the time 2019 rolled around Rode blew the lid off the podcasting world with a device that incorporated Aphex sound characteristics. Dubbed Rodecaster Pro it proposed to be a full podcasting studio based on 4 microphone channels. But wait. It would also have a channel built in to hardwire a smartphone, and if that weren’t cool enough…it’d have a Bluetooth channel, too. Additionally, it would have an 8-key sound cart pad (for sound effects; something I was doing through software on a laptop, phone or iPad). And it would have a 4-channel headphone amp, each channel with a dedicated volume control.

Suddenly, there was a device – a single device – that would do everything my studio would do. One piece of gear would replace all the stuff I’ve mentioned. No, I’d lose all the knobs, lights and some flexibility in the adjustments – but I’d lose all those cables and all the complexity. One cable going from one mic into the Rode and that’d be it. One cable from the iPhone to the Rode. One pair of headphones plugged into each channel. Simple. Straightforward.

But what about the sound? That had always been my preoccupation. I wanted the sound inside The Yellow Studio to be spectacular and thanks to my set up, it was.

I watched every YouTube review of the Rode Rodecaster Pro. I listened carefully. I knew the ease of operation of the product meant I would lose all the little fine nuances of sound adjustments, but this is podcasting I figured. This isn’t music recording. And this is spoken word, not singing. How nuanced does the sound really need to be? I concluded that any loss of adjustments I might forfeit in the Rode would be more than made up for in having everything I needed in a single piece of gear!

Then there were the firmware updates released by Rode. Rode was listening to customers. They had two major firmware updates before I pulled the trigger and bought mine. Multi-track recording. And a host of other improvements were pushed to the unit via these updates.

Not Looking Back

You don’t see or hear many people talk about it, but the Rodecaster Pro accomplished what I was able to with my rack. Livestreaming audio quality is identical to the recordings. I’m just now seeing livestreaming people pick up on the improvement capable via the Rodecaster Pro.

Get me on a Skype call, or a Zoom web conference and I’m going to sound just as good as my recordings. All thanks to the Rode Rodecaster Pro.

A single USB connection to my Apple iMac and I’m done.

Four mics. Four cables into the Rodecaster Pro.

Four headphones.

One cable to the iPhone.

That’s it. And I give up nothing in connectivity and flexibility.

I can take phone calls.

I can record by myself or with a few friends.

I can input sounds via the soundcart buttons, the computer or even my iPhone or iPad.

I’ve got volume knobs for each headphone as well as a master volume control.

If the unit isn’t perfect it’s awfully close! Just like you, the listeners of my podcast. You’re not the perfect podcast audience, but you’re awfully close.

Thank you!

Randy