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“I’m sorry I can’t, I just don’t want to.”

I’ve long known that “NO” is a complete sentence, but it doesn’t mean I’ve practiced it. Largely because people can be very impolite. And pushy!

Not long ago I told somebody I would not be present at an event. Pressed I truthfully said I had some things that required my attention before heading out of town. The pressing and ridicule began. A common tactic of people. I dug in and exclaimed with greater force, “I will not be there and you won’t shame me into attending.” No is indeed a complete sentence.

Dr. Henry Cloud is likely known as the father of boundaries. Read his books including Boundaries Updated and Expanded Edition: When to Say Yes, How to Say No To Take Control of Your Life. Each of us has to determine and establish the boundaries that serve us. That doesn’t mean we give each other the Heisman pose. It does mean we display enough grace to each other that we stop thinking only of ourselves and quit pressuring people to do what WE want them to do.

I posted this over at Facebook just recently.

Social media is N-O-T-O-R-I-U-S for poor behavior. Even by decent or good people. The whole “IBK” (idiot behind keyboard) mindset sometimes captivates any of us. We get stupid. Some more quickly than others.

Not long ago a buddy of mine posted something that any reasonable person would have realized was very innocuous. In Messenger, a person took issue exclaiming she was “offended” because he had used the phrase “stinky people.” 😉

No grace. No consideration. No thoughtfulness. No mindfulness. Just an exclamation that she was offended. It was a joke about a king who has been dead for 400 years and an anonymous man. It wasn’t directed at her or any particular group of people. Hello Thin Skin, meet offense!

He was quite measured in his response. Not sure I would’ve been. Mostly because I often feel like the ninnies need a battle. Else, they’ll always win. And we’re severely outnumbered by them as it is. They’re growing by leaps and bounds. Purveyors of wisdom appear to be shrinking, in spite of our collective efforts here at LTW.

Reminder: SurroundedByNinnies.com is a domain I own. Click on it and check it out. 

“NO” isn’t a hateful response. Why do people who hear it think so? Because they’re selfish ninnies. They’re giving no consideration to the person who says, “No.” They’re brassy enough to think they DESERVE an explanation. You owe them. Or so they think.

No, you don’t.

Intentions play a role. So do expectations. So let’s think about those two notions, but let’s do it reverse order.

Expectations

The reality of expectations is our perceptions. We perceive things the way we perceive them. Is that ingrained in us? Is it unchangeable? It’s a debate, but this much appears true. Humans appear to be made of love (those of us who believe in God and the Word of God already believe this truth). Love is the number one addiction of all people.

Cardiovascular disease is the number killer. But lack of love – and the stress created by it – likely kill many, many more.

God designed us this way. To crave and seek love. To express that love toward others.

Increasingly, brain scientists believe we’re built to see the glass half full. Neuroscientists tell us we’re born with a perfect core genetic code. We make choices and those choices impact our DNA. So our perfection can have negative genes piled on top of them, but those imperfect genes resulting from previous generations are closed or dormant. Those imperfect or negative perceptions are learned. The environment wakes up those negative genes.

Two children can grow up in an identical environment but result in completely different ways of life. Because all of us, every minute of every day engage in thinking, feeling and choosing. Choosing to think negatively launches negative perceptions which will drive negative behavior.

People can be saved from themselves, but only when they decide for themselves. Community helps. In fact, community is critical.

This all impacts what we expect, especially what we expect from others!

Expectation is an important element of human interaction.

The brain is constantly filled with energy unless we’re dead. That energy can be positive or negative. We can choose to think either way.

Thinking grows our brains. Which is why I’m no longer a fan of that phrase, “over-thinking.” That’s not what we’re doing. We may be obsessing, but thinking moves us in a positive direction because it’s how we grow our brain.

Learning something is effective. Learning it well enough to teach it ourselves is perhaps the most effective. It expands our brainpower at a very high level.

Who you are is uniquely YOU. Everybody is different. Those differences are varied and mostly immeasurable. Our similarities are extensive, too.

Yale research has determined there is no “normal” brain. People have the capacity to become what they’re interested in. That’s determined by us individually. In spite of my fascination with personality assessments or some type of categorization, I know these things are merely tools. I’m growing less interested in them (not fully), but I’ve concluded they may be more harmful than useful because we can pigeonhole ourselves and others.

In the Myers-Briggs personality assessment, I’m an INFJ. I can easily see how that fits. It’s congruent with my own viewpoint or perspective. My own expectations about who I am, if you please.

MRI technology appears to have contributed to wrecking what we may actually know to be true in the human brain. Extensive study has been devoted to finding out if MRI technology can truly measure what’s happening in the brain. The overwhelming results seem to disprove it.

This much seems to be true…we can’t currently understand what’s going on inside the human mind. Because all of us, every minute of every day engage in thinking, feeling and choosing. And that’s all individual no matter what assessments reveal. I rather think most assessments, especially SELF-assessments, reveal what we think and feel about ourselves. In that regard, I can see their value. Of course, those self-examinations have a high probability of being wrong (wrong being defined as not entirely true). Your truth is your truth though. If you perceive – and expect – something of yourself, then that’s your reality.

Our accuracy in fully understanding or predicting what others will do is impacted by how long we’ve known them. I’ve been married to the same woman for almost 42 years. Yet some neuroscientists will say I’ve still got a 30% chance of wrongly predicting what she might do. My success rate of 70% is only because of how well I know her. Why? Because we’re humans. Predicting how my wife may perceive something, what she may think, how she may feel and what she may choose to do can’t be relegated to some scientific, exact science. She’s a person and those are uniquely her own. They can also change.

It explains why one person can say something to you and you think nothing of it. Somebody might say the same thing – or something very similar – and it goes all over you! It’s perception.

We choose how we’ll feel. We decide on our perception. We build our own expectations.

A person posts something on social media updating people on recent activities in his work. It’s a perfectly fine post lacking a braggart tone, but directly speaking to various accomplishments, achievements, challenges, and hopes for the coming new year. The comments flow and are supportive. Then there’s one that stands out and hits an out-of-tune chord with the poster. The person merely comments, “Congratulations!” It lands on a sour note. Immediately the poster senses sarcasm and intent on the part of the commentator to take a jab. Maybe. Maybe not.

A different person could read that same comment and reply with, “Thank you. I appreciate it.” What’s the difference?

Perception. The way we see things. That includes the way we hear things.

There’s no more effort required to see it – perceive it – one way versus the other. Just like the glass half full or half empty. Same visual effort required to draw either conclusion. But some choose to view it one way while others choose to see it differently.

A couple of things might happen. The person could decide, with likely great effort, to reframe how they see the comment. They could assume it was a genuine note of congratulations. That would likely change their emotions instantly. Rather than feeling picked on, or made fun of they’d feel congratulated. A very different feeling.

They could decide to find out. To seek a better understanding so they could know what the commentator intended. That’s gonna take some work. Sometimes we’d rather not do that. Perhaps we feel we’d appear petty if we did that. For whatever reason, we might choose we’re going to avoid finding out the real truth behind the comment. Which is perfectly okay.

Question: Are we better off choosing to feel slighted or honestly congratulated?

Which one fosters growth? Which one fosters a better outcome for us? Which one, if we’re wrong, provides the most ideal outcome?

Thinking the worst or thinking the best? Expecting the worst or the best?

It’s about the meaning we ascribe to things. Especially external things. Like a Facebook comment.

I often talk about wiring. I’ll say things, “I’m wired to (fill in the blank).” Am I though? What if that’s just how I perceive myself? Does it matter? If I think it, it’s true so far as I’m concerned. If I think I’m wired a certain way it doesn’t mean that’s factually true, but it does mean practically it is. Again the expectations we form for ourselves and others come into play.

My wife frequently tells me, “You’re expecting too much.” The context is expecting others to perform at a higher level. For instance, somebody can perform some task and I might remark, “He can do better.” She’ll say, “I’m not sure about that. I think he may be doing as good as he can.”

Neither of us is being critical. She’s choosing to see that person’s talent or effort as all they can do. I’m choosing to see that person hasn’t applied themselves as well as they can. Which of us is right? We’re both right. I may be more disappointed, but I’m also more hopeful. I think things can always be made better. She doesn’t choose to believe that.

We’re both intelligent people, but we’ve each decided what we’ll think, feel and choose. Everybody does. It’s our individualism.

Understanding is another term I need to insert, but let’s wait and save that for last because we’ve not yet talked about INTENTIONS. They’re tied because sometimes we fail to accurately understand intentions.

The title of today’s show is merely an illustration of how poorly we can behave toward each other. Not when we say, “No,” but when people resent (and react) to our single word sentence and choose to push boundaries rather than respect them.

Consideration. Grace. Giving allowance. These are the real issues. People frequently fail to be thoughtful toward each other. Can we do better? Yes, I expect so. My wife may not think so, but I’m hopeful. 😉

Intentions

Sometimes we intend to hurt others. Sometimes we don’t. Intentions are like any other thoughts – we can see them as being bad and harmful or we can view them as being good and helpful. Maybe some place in between.

I’m not naive. People too frequently think intentions are bad. Probably because they often are and maybe we think there’s no downside to holding such thoughts. I mean, if somebody means ill then we’d best get busy thinking it so. But what if we’re wrong?

Let’s back up just a bit, but we move forward.

Those people with whom we’re very close ought to be those to whom we’re able to give the most consideration. After all, we know them best. Which may be why we sometimes feel as though we KNOW their intentions aren’t good. Here during the holiday season families endure some of the highest strife of the year. Fussing and fighting preclude any chance for family harmony.

But what if we’re wrong? What if the probabilities are correct that indicate after 42 years of marriage my intuition about my own wife has a 30% chance of being wrong? Then how accurate do you suppose your intuition is about that brother-in-law you see twice a year? Or that uncle you see just once a year? Nevermind the complete stranger who may chime in on a Facebook or Instagram post.

I’d like to improve my odds. Especially my odds of accurately ascribing intentions to somebody’s words or actions.

The choices seem fairly binary to me. I can ascribe evil intentions, good intentions (or something in between) or I can find out. Ascribing evil intentions don’t foster in me anything good. Maybe my feelings are hurt. Maybe I get angry. Maybe I grow resentful and bitter. How am I helped by any of those feelings?

Ascribing good intentions is much better, but I know the fear. What if I’m wrong? What they really meant ill? Stop and think about this. We get anxious because we don’t want to extend grace to the undeserving. If they intended to hurt us and we failed to feel hurt because we thought better of them…well, that’s completely unacceptable! Why?

There’s little logic to it. It’s just how we choose to think, feel and choose. We make up our minds how we’re going to look at it. Perception is a choice!

I’ve been misjudged by people who know I love them. People who I’ve proven I will support…at a high cost. People who know I’m safe. People who have trusted me in confidence. But in one instance where I may extend a challenge against something they want to do, but something I know may harm them…they suddenly ascribe to me things they know (logically) are untrue. As though this one time my intentions are different than all the other times prior. Now, they choose to think my intention is to inflict harm. In a heightened emotional state, they decide they want to feel victimized. There’s that randomness of the human mind at work. And it explains why people can behave in very unpredictable ways. Even people we think we know well. Even people we know well. And people we love.

A mind is a busy place. 

Lots going on in there. Filled with false assumptions. Incorrect notions. Judgments. Thinking, feeling and choosing. All based on how we choose to look at the world and our place in it.

How else can you explain the vast differences in how people respond to the terrible things that happen to them? Some overcome. Others suffer as victims. Some achieve satisfaction, even joy. Others embark on a lifetime of bitterness, resentment, jealousy, and envy. All because we make our choices.

Proverbs 23:7 “For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he…”

In other words, “as he is all along in his heart, so is he (at last) in act.” Our actions match our thoughts and feelings. Our thoughts and feelings follow our perceptions. That ought to give you an idea of the importance (and urgency) our perspective. It’s why we need the help of others…to make sure we’re seeing things as they truly are.

But that takes work. The work of…

Understanding

The impediments to understanding are prejudice, pride, and self-righteousness. We have to exert lots of mental power to achieve a successful pursuit of understanding.

Understanding ourselves and the changes that may be required if we’re going to grow — it demands a lot of mind power. We can do it, but it’s not easy. Change (growth) is possible no matter the obstacles. We have to want it badly enough to do it though.

“The self-righteous scream judgments against others to hide the noise of skeletons dancing in their own closets.”
― John Mark Green

We CAN better understand ourselves.

We CAN better understand each other.

First, we have to want to. Then we have to be willing to pay the higher price understanding demands. Our laziness is rewarded with misunderstanding. Our zeal is rewarded with understanding.

Talking to each other. Listening to each other. That’s the genesis of understanding. Communication.

Social media can be so destructive because it’s just too easy. There’s no friction to slow down our foolishness. We can be impulsive, reactionary and stupid. Nothing stands in our way. Unless we exercise sufficient self-discipline to slow down our thoughts, feelings, and choices enough to behave more wisely.

A Facebook commenter irks us. We gather our thoughts and emotions. We choose to seek understanding instead of whatever negative emotions might overrun us.

As we pause our negative emotions we make up our mind to think the best, but to find out the truth. It accomplishes good on multiple fronts. It provides the other person the opportunity to have us understand them and their intentions without surmising or assuming. And it also provides the opportunity to confront poor behavior, if indeed they’re guilty of ill-intentions. There’s no downside if it’s done well.

“I wanted to talk to you about that post I made. I noticed you made a comment, but I have a question, “How did my post strike you?” I want to properly understand your comment.”

They might lie. They might tell you the truth. You have no control over that.

They might tell you they were genuinely happy at your post and commented in a way hoping to let you know how happy they were.

Just here you can choose to think and feel whatever you’d like. You might think, “Liar. I know you really were being hateful.” You might think, “Well, I’m glad I asked because I may have always thought they were really being hateful.” Again, you’ll think whatever you choose to. Choose wisely.

What can you control?

What can’t you control? Other people. Sometimes you can’t control external circumstances.

But you can control yourself. Not easily maybe, but you can do it. We all can.

Your mind. That’s on you. Your thoughts. Your feelings. Your choices. Your actions. Those are all within your power.

You can do easy or you can do hard until it becomes easier. Least resistance ways of life are easy but destructive. Like feeling victimized. Like refusing to make a choice. Like running away. Like hiding. Like blaming. Like making excuses. All these things are super easy requiring zero self-discipline.

The hard stuff can become easier if we work at it. It’ll be insanely difficult at first, but it’ll make our life so much better. Most of what we hope for is achievable when we put in the work. Devotion to ourselves, and putting in the work can make it easier and easier to keep on keeping on.

Others.

We can’t control them. This is why the title of today’s show is useful to illustrate how we allow others to negatively impact us. Don’t misunderstand. We need others. We need connection and collaboration. We also need to better manage the ninnies who surround us. The people with whom we can’t be safe. The people who don’t have our best interests at heart.

The hard stuff is made harder because we can be concerned with what others think. Or what they say. Or what they do. Even though we have NO CONTROL over any of those things.

Self-discipline, self-control — those continue to be THE things that provide high value in your life. SELF. YOU. Not them. Not anybody else.

Fear. Thinking the worst. Loss of hope.

These produce thoughts, feelings, and choices that destroy us.

What do you want to do? What do you want to avoid doing?

These are the things you have to be courageous enough to say, “NO” to. And “NO” is a complete sentence. No explanation required. Don’t be offended if others seek understanding. If judgment is their purpose, you can figure it out and act appropriately. Helping people understand us and our context is helpful. Helping people judge us is harmful to both of us. You get to decide.

“YES” is also a complete sentence.

You’re saying YES or NO to yourself right now. You’re believing in yourself or you’re not. You’re putting in the work to grow or you’re not.

This is where running or hiding causes us severe harm. It damages us at our core. Erodes our confidence. And our hope. Enabling us to fully embrace being victims. A vicious cycle.

Skirmishes can defeat us. Forget the major war. The smallest little firefight slays us. We’re not tough enough. Mental toughness doesn’t happen without enduring the struggle. Successfully. Resilience doesn’t appear after a brief time. It demands a long-term, sustained effort.

What’s your problem?

Why is it your problem?

Because you’ve surrendered control that rightfully belongs to YOU. You feel pressured to give an explanation to your “NO” because you’re not being responsible enough with your life.

Struggling isn’t the same as suffering. Unless you make it that way. Victims suffer. They choose to suffer. Resilient people struggle. They push through adversity to find growth, improvement and greater self-discipline.

Do the work on yourself. No matter what others think, feel or do. Begin it now. For yourself and for your family. For your friends and those who need your help.

Put pressure on what you think is true. Don’t accept a friction-free life. It’s not worth living. It’ll be devoid of hopes and dreams. It’ll be a low-ambition life. Sure, it may be safe — well, it’ll feel safe, but it’s a lie. It’s a deadly lie. You’re not safe taking the easy path. Thieves run amock all along the easy path robbing people of their dreams and fullest potential.

Lord willing, 2020 is going to be a breakout year for me because some time ago I made up my mind. I decided on some things. I figured out some things to say “NO” to and I also figured out some other things to say “YES” to. Professionally I talked about it in my final episode of the year to the work podcast over at GrowGreat.com.

Professionally, after being distracted for too long I’ve decided to say “NO” to most things. I’m saying “YES” to forming a charter peer advisory group of 8 small to medium-sized business owners from around America. It’s an online group that will meet regularly. That’s my top business priority. Secondly, I’m devoted to working with leaders in group facilitation. Both of these are congruent with the one big idea that I determined to say “YES” to — the power of others!

The Power Of Others

You’re seeing the theme emerge. It’s about us, but it’s also about our interaction with other people.

Humans have the capacity to inflict tremendous damage on each other. We also have the ability to extend extraordinary grace to one another and help each other.

We get to decide which it will be.

2018 was a year unlike any others for me personally. The events aren’t terribly important. It was a year where I became more aware of how the trajectory of a person’s life can change. Suddenly. You’ve seen this happen. Maybe you’ve experienced it yourself.

We tend to make big changes in our lives following big or catastrophic lapel-shaking events.

The smoker gets curable lung cancer. She makes up her mind to stop smoking. Just like that. She’s literally scared straight when it comes to her smoking habit.

The executive who doesn’t bother taking care of his health morphs, seemingly overnight, into a diet and fitness freak. All because chest pains revealed some reversible health challenges…but only if he’ll get his act together. So he does.

A couple has no awareness of the disease until it strikes one of their children. Months of extended treatment and the fear of losing a child give the couple a brand new mission. To help this disease get greater visibility so people will donate money to help provide a cure. They devote their lives to something only 16 months ago they knew nothing about.

Something happens and a switch was flipped. A new interest. A renewed interest. It happens just like THAT.

Has that ever happened to you? Me neither. Until 2018.

Epiphanies. That’s what these are. I suspect most of us go through life rarely experiencing them. I think I’ve had a few. Not many, but a few. The biggest ones have occurred since the summer of 2018 when life threw me a curveball. Then some fastballs that seemed to grow faster over time until 2019 sent me deeply devoted to the effort best summed up with this sentence:

Who you surround yourself with matters.

Disagreement isn’t the issue. Neither is conflict.

Being thoughtful is the deal. Exercising mindfulness. Being considerate. Working to understand.

For me, it’s always been about deeper conversations. Safe relationships where others trust me enough to lean on me. It’s work that I’ve done exhaustively for the past 20 plus years (longer really, but in earnest since 2000). The focus has mostly been in an area of FAITH. Yes, I’m a religious guy, but you know that already.

The first epiphany occurred about 4-5 years ago when I became convinced that few things trump the power of making sure we’re surrounded by the people who can and will serve us. People who have our very best interests at heart. People who can challenge us, encourage us and correct us. People who love us that much.

I’ve always know this truth, but professionally I was exposed to it in a different context – a professional peer advisory group. I was in the throes of that conversion when the summer of 2018 changed things. Now I began to think more deeply about the power of others in spiritual terms. Again, I’d long known this.

1 Corinthians 15:33 “Be not deceived: Evil companionships corrupt good morals.”

But now I saw this (poor associations) – and other things- negatively impact somebody I loved. I saw the negative impact of pain killers, opioids and emotional struggles rob the good character of somebody. The compass went haywire and it focused me unlike anything had ever focused me on THE POWER OF OTHERS.

I grew intensely focused on human kindness versus human cruelty. On human compassion versus human judgment. On human grace and understanding versus human criticality and hypocrisy.

I grew increasingly intrigued by my own behavior. Hours and hours, weeks and months of self-examination. I’m not better than you. Truth is, I may not be as good as you. But thankfully this isn’t a head-to-head competition. It’s a competition against our best self.

My conversations seemed to often steer toward subjects like empathy, understanding, compassion, judgment, self-righteousness, arrogance, ridicule and all the positive and negative things we’re all capable of perpetrating on one another. It was during this window of time, since 2018, that #CravingEncouragement was born. I realized how critical it is for each of us to have people around us who won’t hurt us, but instead will go to great lengths to help us.

And even though I’ve now ditched project #CravingEncouragement I know it’s important. I know right now the odds are great that YOU need some encouragement. I also know the odds are great that you have something important (perhaps urgent) that you’d desperately love to share with somebody. But you’re afraid. And lonely. Because there isn’t anybody with whom you feel safe enough to share. So you’re going it alone. It’s eating you alive. And it will win unless you figure out that somebody somewhere can help you.

At the risk of sounding arrogant (and you know me well enough to know I’m not), I’m THAT guy. It’s grown more clear over the past few years. I’m the guy who runs into that burning building – the lives of people in trouble, or suffering, or challenged, or lonely, or suffering. I found myself, for the first time in a very long time, suffering to understand people filled with judgment, harshness, bitterness, resentment, jealousy, and all the other negative emotions that any of us can CHOOSE to feel.

Empathy drives understanding. The real horsepower is compassion. I struggled to understand all the times when I didn’t see compassion displayed. Then I spent months deeply depressed. Depressed at the truth that we can use others to feel better about ourselves. Namely, we can feel better about ourselves at the expense of others. The suffering or demise of others can make us feel better about ourselves, even though it changes NOTHING in our lives. That put me in a major funk that I wasn’t sure I could ever escape. Spiritually, I leaned on four men (I talk about it on my business-related podcast, here). Personally and professionally, I didn’t lean on anybody. I put up a wall to protect myself after enduring some body blows.

We choose what we think, feel and do. 

Intellectually I knew that was true. Emotionally I didn’t. Until my most recent epiphany last week. Out of nowhere, it hit me. Life flipped my switch and illuminated my mind. I got my mind right.

I have no idea why things sometimes take so long. This particular journey lasted about 8 years as I watched the downward slide of somebody I love very much.

We choose what we think, feel and do. All of us.

If we choose to crash our life, we can do that. If we choose to disrupt our life, we can do that, too. I choose to improve my life. For the past year, I’ve spent thousands of hours wrestling with ways to best do that. It has permeated every facet of my life. Spiritually. Personally. Professionally.

Along the way I’ve learned “NO” is a complete sentence. That I have to do what I have to do no matter what others may do. Or say. And that doesn’t mean what some may think. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about the insights, experiences, challenges or corrections of others. It’s just the opposite of that actually.

Four men had my very best spiritual interest at heart over the past 18 months. Well, truthfully they’ve had my best interests at heart for as long as they’ve known me. Three of them have known me my entire life. Those dangerous old men I talked about in the last show.

I listened to them. Because I knew I was vulnerable and susceptible to faulty thinking. So I leaned hard on their wisdom knowing they were watching out for me. I choose to take advantage of their love and concern. I didn’t have to, but I’m thankful I did.

Some other people fell out of my life and that too was my choice. People who demonstrated a lack of compassion and people with whom I knew I wasn’t safe. I make a choice to live without them. I said, “No.” And it was a complete sentence.

Others were folks I grew even closer to. I said, “Yes.” That too was a complete sentence. It made a bigger difference.

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”  ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let’s wrap this up with a question…one that has perplexed me for a very long time.

How are we made better when we bite and devour each other? 

I realize not everybody sees their behavior for what it really is. That person who decides to blast somebody in social media isn’t likely thinking about being better. Or making anybody else feel better. She’s just being ugly and hateful because her venom needs to go somewhere. She’s filled with it. We may find that it’s the habit of her life. Making sure everybody knows how she feels about everything that offends her. I hope it makes her feel better, but I doubt it does. I rather think it just forges more firmly the habit of her life and I’m sad for her. I’m sad for those of us in her path, too. We all lose. Her decision to not live well has a cost on us all.

What value is derived by not choosing wisely what we think, feel and do?

Conversely, I know Mr. Dickens got it right when he said…

“No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another.”

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Photograph of Ronny F. Wade by Andrew Weaver

We were little boys. Stanley and me. Best friends from our beginnings.

A “Halloween” 😉 costume party. All the friends of our folks were there. Dressed in garb where hiding one’s real identity was the goal. We were gathered inside the garage, sitting in a circle with folks mingling…watching all the new arrivals. Up the driveway walking like Frankenstein was a gray robot. A red light bulb for a nose. Illuminated. There was no way to know who was underneath the garb of spray-painted cardboard boxes forming this ultra low-tech robot.

I had already identified my grandmother, Marie, dressed as Peter Pan. I recognized her immediately somehow. Walked right up to her, calling her by name (“Re” is what everybody, including me called her) asking her to pick me up. Nobody else could identify her.

Then there was this robot creature, easily the most captivating character there. Fascinating.

It was Stanley’s dad, Johnny Elmore. That’s my first memory of him. I was very young. Pre-school.

Johnny was my best friend’s dad. That was my first context for him.

There was never a time when he wasn’t in my life. His family was my second family. It’s just how it always was. Even when Stanely, his son and my best friend, passed from this life in 2013. Losing Stanley was the most devasting loss for me because we had so much history together. And because we were both older. Fifty-six to be precise.

Losing grandparents, especially “Peter Pan,” was sad, but she had been suffering badly…relegated to a nursing facility because of the constant care she required. Losing Stan was different. He was a peer. A close friend. A trusted phone call away all the time. Until he wasn’t.

Johnny Elmore and his wife, Sally, who preceded him in death were close friends with my parents. My life began in a small Oklahoma town, Ada, where Johnny was the evangelist working with the congregation where we all worshipped. They were a family of four – they’d soon become a family of 5. We were a family of four.

It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.    – Ralph Waldo Emerson

It’s true of close friends, too. Close family friends. We’ve been plenty stupid around each other through the years. I know I’ve contributed MORE than my share.

My heart was broken when Stanley died. I was sad for my own loss, but I was especially sad for Stanley’s folks. My imagination kicked into full swinging trying to understand what it must have felt like to bury a child – albeit a child in his 50’s.

As a dad myself I was especially sensitive to Johnny’s emotions at that time. I entered the funeral home and hugged him. He whispered something about thinking about me and Stanley jumping on the bed as little boys. Here we were, two old men now, and memories of long, long ago were at the forefront of our mind. Memories of kids acting stupid. But acting stupid together is still what I miss most since Stanley died. And it’s among the many things I’ll miss most about Johnny. All the snarkiness. All the sarcasm. All the bagging on each other. Stuff that’s been part of my existence since I was that little boy in the dark suit (and before)

Say what you want about aging, it’s still the only way to have old friends.     – Robert Brault

Regularly Johnny would tell me, “Getting old isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.” Sometimes I’d say, “It beats the alternative.” And he’d quite often quickly reply, “I’m not sure about that.”

Age does that. Especially when age brings infirmities. Johnny had his. Most recently loss of balance and eyesight. The eyesight loss was especially vexing because Johnny Elmore was a reader. A study-er. A lifelong learner.

Glaucoma and a detached retina (surgery was performed to fix that). He was hoping doctors could restore his eyesight. At least enough so he could get about and read. But repeated falls contributed to cutting that opportunity short.

Months ago when I heard about his eyesight I remarked to my wife – who has also been close to the family since she was a teen – “If he can’t read, he’s done.” That’s how important learning was to him.

Mere days before his death he turned 88. The same age as my mother. My father is 96. They were close. They’d talk on the phone frequently. Old friends staying in touch, keeping the connections alive.

In the past 2 years, I’ve endured some personal challenges of my own where I relied on Johnny more heavily than ever before. And I had relied on him plenty – especially anything to do with faith. I was 11 in the summer of 1968 when I asked Johnny to baptize me for the forgiveness of my sins. He’s always been a prominent advisor for me in spiritual matters. A rock-solid Bible student I knew I could approach with any issue and he’d help me walk through it. In the last 2 years I needed him more than ever, and he was there for me. Questioning me. Advising me. Gently guiding me through the challenges.

Who you surround yourself with matters.

The older I grow the truer I know that to be. It’s largely why at this stage of my life I’m all-in on helping people leverage the power of others.

Johnny was part of my secret power of others.

He was 88. Another was 83. Another 75.

Three wise old men. All of them preachers. All of them men I’d known all my life. Johnny was the oldest. But the youngest would be the first to go – Russell Barney Owens, Jr. Barney passed back in February this year.

First Barney. Now Johnny. Two very special advisors who have helped me more times than I can count. Largely because we shared faith, but also because they’ve known me since I was a child.

Johnny Elmore had just turned 88. Ronny Wade, 83. Barney Owens, was on his way toward 76.

Three men who always understood my context. They knew me well. I knew them well. I trusted them. They cared about me. I cared about them, too.

One remains. Ronny Wade. His health is failing. For 7 years he’s been quite successfully battling blood cancer, but 2019 has not been kind to him. Johnny and Ronny were close friends. Co-workers in the Faith.

For me, trusted advisors who I’ve always known had my very best interest at heart. Truth tellers. Men who would caringly challenge me.

Some weeks ago I made a trip to spend a few days with Ronny and his wife, Alfreda. He and Johnny had been buddies since Ronny was a teenager. Ronny never expected to be preceded in death by his lifelong friend, but that 5-year-gap in their ages grew increasingly large over the last few years.

One afternoon I called Johnny while I was at Ronny’s house. After telling Johnny where I was, I handed the phone to Ronny so the two of them could talk. Ronny was relegated to an easy chair. Miles away Johnny was relegated to his bedroom unable to see clearly enough to venture too far away. As Ronny took my iPhone, he immediately said to his buddy lifelong friend,

“How ’bout we have a race to see who comes in last?”

They chuckled together.

Dr. Seuss said it better than I ever could.

Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.

Johnny died in his sleep about a week ago. Ronny was asked to preach his funeral to which he quickly agreed. However, the morning after being asked his health took a turn and doctors advised him to not travel. I felt badly for him, knowing how badly he would have liked to honor his old friend. But these are the curveballs life throws at us.

We’re all crying. And sometimes smiling.

In time I suspect the smiles will outweigh the tears. At least that’s how it often goes when I think of Stanley, my lifelong friend.

These old friends are different to me. They’re not peers. They were and are my heroes. They’ve been the adults during my teen years. The mature adults during my early adult years. The old men during my mature years.

Three men who were all just a few steps further up the trail. Age isn’t merely a number. It’s a condition. Filled with hardships and the weight that years of experience puts on a body’s bones. And heart. I’ve seen it in each of them. I see it in myself. Life takes a toll on us all.

Over the past decade, I’ve leaned more heavily on each of these men than I had before. Life’s issues grew more pressing on me. As it did on them. Simplicity gave way to complexity. More moving parts produced by more people involved in our lives as we were all growing older. More folks to consider. More to think about.

Then there’s the weight of responsibility. The burden of leadership. Not some formalized thing, but the influence one welds in becoming old enough to warrant the respect of others. The leadership of influence. The leadership of service. It can bow a body low.

“Strengthen ye the weak hands and confirm the feeble knees.” (Isaiah 35:3)

The battle was raging. As long as Moses had his hands lifted in the air, the battle would belong to him and the people. But Moses wasn’t able to do it alone.

Exodus 17:11-14 “And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses’ hands were heavy; and they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat thereon; and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword. And Jehovah said unto Moses, Write this for a memorial in a book, and rehearse it in the ears of Joshua: that I will utterly blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven.”

We all need some help to steady our hands until the going down of the sun. Moses had two men, one on each side helping him. During my lifetime I’ve had a few select, special men of great wisdom who have helped steady my hands. And help me direct my course toward greater wisdom. They’ve warned me of road hazards helping me avoid untold calamities. They’ve cheered me on encouraging me to keep the faith and continue to battle even though defeat seemed quite certain in my eyes. They’ve questioned, challenged and supported me in ways that only old men can with a younger, albeit still old, man.

In the last 5 years or so I’ve grown increasingly interested – and convinced of the high value found – in our intentional associations. Specifically, in how we leverage the power of others in our lives. It has made me more closely examine the people who have been my closest, most trusted advisors.

There’s a theme in my life, and I’d imagine there is in your life, too. Think about the people who occupy your most inner circle.

All of mine are gospel preachers. They always have been. Without exception. I’ve had other close friends, but not as close as these men. My current circle includes men as young as mid-40’s and now as old as 83. I’m having to go younger because my oldest mentors and advisors are passing away. Typically I’ve relied on men 15 to 20 years my senior. I don’t think it was strategic as much as it was conveniently generational. My father is 34 years older. Many of my inner circle “old friends” have been in my life as long as I can remember and they entered my life through my parents. So I think in my case that explains the age difference. It worked to my advantage. An enormous advantage.

Today I find myself attempting – likely without much success – to provide similar support and insight to men 15 to 20 years my junior. I’m hoping to keep the cycle of support, encouragement, and leadership alive. Time will tell if I can succeed. I figure the next 15 plus years will make or break my legacy. And that’s not unique to me. I think it’s unique to all older men and women. We enter this phase of life where our perspective is more settled. Priorities seem clearer. Ambitions, too.

As I’ve grown older my resolve has intensified. The resolve to make a bigger difference. Whatever it takes. Even if it takes a lifetime.

Jason Isbell is among my favorite singer-songwriters. In 2015 he released an album entitled, Something More Than Free. One of my favorite songs on that record is “If It Takes A Lifetime.” The final refrain is “our day will come if it takes a lifetime.”

I’m here to tell it does take a lifetime.

It takes a lifetime to have old friends.

It takes a lifetime to gain the wisdom that old friends can provide.

Lots of things take a lifetime.

Lifetimes are relative. Barney’s was 75 years. Johnny’s was 88. So far, Ronny’s is 83. Three different men. All of them precious to me and instrumental in my decisions, development, and wisdom.

Here’s the thing. The lifetime isn’t measured in years. It’s measured in value. The value isn’t a competition. In fact, there’s no way to compare the value these three wise men provided my life. Each were different. Each contributed in a unique way. I needed what each of them brought.

Barney was the first to go, but nobody challenged me quite like him. Notorious for not ever telling me what to do, he’d pose a powerful statement followed by a question. It’s the single most popular phrasing I’d hear from him when involved in a deep, serious conversation.

“Well, you could do that. I’m not sure that it’d be right though. Are you sure?”

And by “right” he always meant scriptural. In other words, would it be in keeping with the Word of God? Would it be what God would want based on what the Bible says?

Most often the reply he’d hear would be, “Of course I’m not sure…which is why I’m talking to you.” 😉

Nobody was like Barney in my life. Nobody was like Johnny either.

Johnny didn’t challenge me the way Barney did. It was different. Done in his own style.

Ronny is still different from them all and admittedly I’m closest to him than any other old man. It has taken a lifetime. His personality is measured. His tone always tempered.

Humor. It’s a common bond. Each of them is funny in their own way. I appreciate their sense of humor and it made the connections deeper.

Barney was a man with dry, dry wit. Out of nowhere would come a quip you didn’t see coming and it would almost always lay me low with laughter.

One of my favorite stories of him – and one I’ve likely told you before – was about his childhood. Barney lived in Cincinnati. He was from Kentucky, but as a kid the family moved from the Kentucky hills to the big city. They were poor as Job’s turkey. During a breakfast meeting some years ago, which included my son, Ryan, Barney was telling stories. Ryan asked him if his family ever went back to Kentucky to visit after they made the move to the city. Without blinking an eye Barney said, “Sure. We’d take a bus back down there with a sack of sandwiches and show off.”

We erupted. The mere thought of some transplanted hillbillies returning home on a Greyhound bus with a sack of sandwiches to “show off” immediately struck us all as funny as Barney intended it to.

I think of Barney often, especially any time Brisco Darling appears on an old Andy Griffith Show rerun. Barney’s demeanor was dry like Brisco. He was sharp, smart and well-read. The man was always reading a book, usually, a book that recorded some debate over a Bible topic. The man knew the Bible as well as any man I’ve ever known. He was an accomplished preacher who could take a complex topic and make it appear simple. I miss him dearly…and the absence of his insights and viewpoint won’t likely ever be filled. But I had him inside my inner circle so I’m thankful for our years today.

Johnny’s sense of humor was without parallel in my life. I was so close to his family and we shared a snarkiness and sarcasm that made our ability to “get it” unrivaled. Like Barney, Johnny’s humor could often be subtle, but he wasn’t nearly as dry as Barney. Johnny was frequently just more matter-of-fact.

Of the three men Johnny was the man with whom I was close enough to see emotional frustrations that would often morph into something very funny. When you’ve spent a lifetime there are too many such stories that flood my memory banks.

Johnny could get a quick look of utter frustration and contempt for the situation. Since I was small I’ve found his angst funny. Stanley and I both did, until a belt may have been threatened.

We’d all gone to some inexpensive steakhouse – the kind you used to find in any size town. Think Western Sizzler. You go through the line, place your order, get your drink and are given a number or something. Then you go find your table listening for your order to be announced over the PA. Well, this particular place had a PA that was so garbled and muffled you couldn’t understand one thing coming out of the speakers. After a bit Johnny wrinked his brow, grew a stern look and expressed his frustration with the PA.

“I’ll bet you can tell what he’s saying. My lands, there’s no way to tell if he’s announcing our food or not.”

I’m not sure we were even paying attention until he said something. Immediately I got tickled because it sounded like the guy was holding his hand over his mouth and speaking into the microphone. Completely unintelligible.

There were millions of moments like this with Johnny. And I loved him for it because those little, everyday frustrations were easily pointed out by him. My family rolls very much the same way. It provides daily humor.

It takes a lifetime to fully appreciate it I suppose.

There’s nothing like old friendships. People who have known us for a long time. People who understand our context in a way that nobody else can. People who we understand well.

Intent. It’s a critical component. In every friendship. Frankly, in every relationship. One that too frequently is overlooked.

Somebody says something to us that hits us wrong. Or not quite right. Rather than think deeply about this person’s historical intentions, which are mostly good toward us, we suddenly have a knee-jerk reaction to what they said without any regard to their long-proven intent.

With these 3 men, I’ve never questioned their intentions. Especially as it related to their relationship with me. I always knew their intentions were the best. Giving them due consideration, therefore, wasn’t hard. Behaving with grace and respect toward them wasn’t either. Even if I didn’t agree with them. And I didn’t always.

There’s something else. When you’ve had 3 old men surround you your entire life…you don’t benefit from your own lifetime, but you benefit from each of theirs, too. The cumulative impact of wisdom is priceless making it all the more urgent that we keep passing it on.

Randy

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Today’s Project #CravingEncouragement story comes from Jim Collison. Find him at The Average Guy website. Thanks, Jim for the encouragement, friendship, and support. Jim was one of the very first financial contributors to helping me get the Rode Rodecaster Pro here inside The Yellow Studio.

You’ll hear Jim’s stories at the very end of the episode.

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“Old men are dangerous: it doesn’t matter to them what is going to happen to the world.”        – George Bernard Shaw

But old men are dangerous for so much more. It’s not that old men don’t care, it’s that they’ve learned what to care about most. Experience has taught them what matters and what’s irrelevant.

Old men are dangerous because they’re able to teach younger men the things they most need to know. Nobody can teach younger men more than old men. if only younger men would listen and learn. 😉

2019 has been a year focused on the old men in my life. In the spring I lost one. Others are growing weak and frail. Old men have always been very important to me. I’ve lot a handful of them over the years. Old men who taught me a lot, but I know there was so much more I could have and should have learned.

Old men aren’t likely so different from old women. Not when it comes to the resource they are for those who are younger.

Younger is relative. Earlier this year I lost an old man in my life. He was 74. Meanwhile, there’s another old man in my life who is 96 and still going. My dad. That’s a 22-year spread and it makes me wonder when a guy goes from being a young man to a man, then goes to being an old man.

To a 10-year-old boy, a 25-year-old is likely an old man.

To a 25-year-old, a 50-year-old is for sure an old man.

To the 50-year-old…well, old just takes on a very different connotation.

Narrowing down the when is important. After all, old men are dangerous so we have to figure out who the old men are! 😉

I’ll leave that to you to figure out for yourself.

I happen to think old women are just as dangerous as old men. If not MORE so. 😉 So I don’t discriminate. I’m equally fearful.

Being dangerous isn’t restricted to being fearful though. There’s dangerous in a good way. Sorta like the word “bad.” Then there’s dangerous in a terrible way. As in, “That concert was bad.” That means the concert was awful. It can be good. As in, “That concert was bad.” That means the concert was awesome.

Let’s talk about the fearful. I grew up learning fear very quickly. Spanking was how all good kids were brought up. Not beatings. Not abuse. Spankings. I don’t think it was a regional practice either. Rather, I think it was pretty universal born from years of practice sparked by Old Testament (and New Testament) teaching on discipline. “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” and all that. It clearly was a defective form of discipline and training because most of the kids I knew addressed adults as “sir” or “ma’am.” Classrooms were mostly well ordered and teachers, policemen and other authority figures were shown respect by all but the very worst kids. So it was clearly NOT the way to raise and train children.

I mean it’s barbaric really. Better to have every child behaving like a spoiled hellion, smarting off to teachers, flipping off police officers and general showing disdain for anybody who dare suggest he not get his way. Society is greatly improved by our intolerance for any kind of physical discipline to show kids that they are NOT in charge. After all, the kids ARE in charge so let’s treat them that way. Like the royality of all knowledge and wisdom we know them to be. Just like when we were kids, right?

When I was a boy old men were dangerous. Old women more dangerous. You got out of line and few things scared me more than an old man barking out, “Heyah! Heyah!” Hearing that would stop me dead in my tracks because I instantly knew I was caught misbehaving.

Old women would get physical. They’d grab you by the back of your neck or thump you on the head or flick your ear. And that’s if you were lucky! Old women would put up with more than old men in private, but not in public. After all, you were representing not just yourself, but your family when you were out in public. And that meant you’d better represent well. Or else.

Being dangerous can mean a variety of things. Many of them very good. The question can be, “Dangerous for whom?”

When I was 10, old men were either entertaining or dangerous. Sometimes both. Mostly, I steered clear of them. I had already figured out that kids were the bane of most old men. 😉

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Will Project #CravingEncouragement Be Cancelled Due To Lack Of Interest?

It’s sure looking like it.

People are reluctant to share their stories. Well, that’s an understatement. They’re refusing to share them. That’s more accurate.

Even though 100% of the people I’ve ever asked declare they fully understand the power of encouragement in their life, many readily admit they can’t really remember the last time they truly offered it to somebody else.

Is encouragement that rare?

Apparently so.

Are stories of times when we were encouraged equally rare. Perhaps.

That’s why we crave it so. We all understand how valuable it is.

Have I shamed you into sharing? Not likely, huh? It’s okay. I’m not judging you. I’m just disappointed because so many of you contributed money to help me get the Rodecaster Pro inside The Yellow Studio. I really wanted to hear your stories, but I’m going to stop begging you to share them. I’m not a big fan of coercion.

If you change your mind you know how to contact me.

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I’m an old man.

No matter. I was dangerous as a young man. I’m just growing more dangerous.

Dangerous can be good.

Dangerous can be bad.

Don Cherry is Hockey Night in Canada. Is is 85. Even non-hockey folks likely know Don for his outlandish wardrobe. The guy has ALWAYS been very opinionated and always dressed loudly and sharply.

Within the last week Don shot his mouth off – something he’s been paid handsomely for years to do – but this time it got him in trouble. It got him fired. You can read more about the details here. Then here’s one opinion and a counter opinion.

Old men are dangerous in the sense that we’re liable to say anything. At any time. 😉

We’re “Don Cherry dangerous” once we hit 80. I can’t prove it, but there’s plenty of anecdotal evidence of it in my experience. I’ve talked with old men for the last 35 years about it. They’ve almost all told me, “There’s something that happens after a man hits 80.” These were all men older than me (at the time) who had observed the old men in their lives. They reported noticing marked differences in their old mentors after they got into their 80s.

Easier to spot in others than in yourself. When I speak to old men in their 80s I don’t hear much other than, “I’m not as fast as I used to be.” They mean in every way. Physically. Cognitively. The CPU just slows down. I need to do some homework to figure out what exactly happens around the age of 80. Some men tell me they can’t remember as well as they once did (well, who can?), but they confess it’s sometimes a struggle to find the words to say what they’re feeling or thinking. It’s like the hard drive of their memory is still intact, but they can’t access it as quickly. Sometimes they can’t access it at all.

This time of year I regularly watch ESPN’s College GameDay on Saturdays. Lee Corso is part of the panel. He’s 84. He should join Don Cherry in retirement because it’s been evident for a few years that he just can no longer keep up. During the segment where the panelists pick who they think will win the matchups, Lee sometimes selected teams who weren’t part of the matchup. Kirk Herbstreit does a masterful job of covering for him and helping him without making it obvious or embarrassing, but Lee should retire before he becomes much more dangerous.

I’m sad for Don Cherry. I’ve always found his highly entertaining and very likable. It’s sad for Don’s public life to end like this. I wish it weren’t so. Decades of good snuffed out for no good reason. All because a network overstayed their welcome by giving him such a big, public platform. What do you do though if you’re Sportsnet, Don’s employer when he said what he did about the Canadien veterans? They should have opted him out someway, somehow so the man could ease out of the public broadcasting limelight, dignity intact. Easier said than done with an old man though, right?

Yep.

Because old men are stubborn. Ridiculously so! And I’d wager Don Cherry has superhero levels of stubbornness. So maybe nothing could be done to protect him from himself. As our local Dallas Stars’ color commentator Darrell “Razor” Reaugh said about him. It’s like putting Archie Bunker on Hockey Night In Canada every week.

It was bound to go bad eventually.

Give anybody enough mic time – even a podcaster like me – and we’re going to make a mistake. I can edit though. If I say something that’s too dangerous to release, I can remove it. Spend time in front of a live mic and the odds of getting into some type of trouble are high unless things are very scripted. This is partly why I so respect these folks who do live sports broadcasting. Guys like Joe Buck.

Even Bob Costas took heat when he came out against the NFL for their idiocy with CTE and concussion protocols. Eventually, his longtime employer NBC figured out a ease him out. By January of this year, Bob quit NBC altogether. Who knows what the details really are, but I know this much. Bob Costas is world-class — in both talent and cognitive ability. He wasn’t an old man except in broadcasting terms. He was in his mid-60s. Right now he’s 67. His replacement, Mike Tirico is 52. Nuff said. That’s 15 years and it’s a considerable age gap in the broadcasting world.

Maybe the point is that verbal old men are super dangerous. And those in front of cameras or behind microphones are especially so. 😀

I plan to go very dark and very quiet by the time I hit 80. That’s why I’m doing so much talking right now. I’ve got to squeeze it all in while I have time.

Breaking News: Don Cherry is going to start podcasting at 85. Good for Don. 😉 Not sure I’d do it, but no matter – I don’t have to because I decided to podcast a few decades back. Now I’ve just to watch myself so I don’t get into trouble!

Jordan Peterson is a 57-year-old clinical psychologist and professor of psychology at the University of Toronto. He caught my attention back in 1999 when his book, Maps of Meaning, was published. Five or six years ago is when I really leaned more into his work because listening to him is vastly more compelling (to me) than reading. That’s not a knock on him, but on me. I just lack the brainpower to keep up. He’s a very dangerous old man though. Thankfully he’s surrounded by some young men who also have hefty grey matter! Guys like Ben Shapiro.

Whether you agree with Peterson’s message or not…there’s no doubt of his danger. He’s intelligent, articulate, logical, thoughtful and skilled at arguing his beliefs and opinions. He’s also willing to say what few others have been willing to say. So even if he provokes enough anger for people to think and more deeply figure things out…that alone is worth the price of admission.

As I’ve watched his popularly soar I’ve figured out that his age and wisdom have helped him. He’s not an angry young man – as many young men are prone to be. He’s seasoned, weathered and even in his indignation of those things he finds atrocious, he’s driven deeply by compassion. Compassion isn’t necessarily considered a young man’s game, but I’ve learned it’s very much an old man’s game!

The crusty curmudgeon is a trite figure. One I don’t find to be mostly true. Yes, they exist. From every age demographic. Young bitter people grow old and become old bitter people. The “get off my lawn” character seen mostly as an old man was the “I’ll kick your @#$” young man. They’re one and the same, except for their age.

Old men are dangerous in part because they have courage. People suppose that’s because they’ve nothing to lose, but that’s foolish. Don Cherry lost a lot. Costas, too. Peterson is risking a lot. So I don’t think the danger presented by old men is because they’ve nothing to lose. And I don’t think their courage is due to that.

Rather, I think they better understand the stakes. They understand – or should understand – better the difference made in some things over others. Old men know what’s important. Young men think they know.

Knowing what’s important drives courage. The tipping point of courage is when knowing what’s important is coupled with strong beliefs about what’s required. Why is Dr. Peterson speaking out with such boldness? Because he has spent years thinking about things deeply and with compassion. Because he has deep beliefs in what’s wrong and what could be done to fix it. He has knowledge coupled with beliefs. Strong beliefs in what can be done to better the human condition.

Old men are dangerous because they understand legacy. Their own. And they’re interested in their legacy. But that sounds too self-centered and most old men aren’t self-centered. I’ve known plenty of old men and old women. The ones who were kind didn’t start being kind when they got old. They were always kind. The ones who were mean and hateful didn’t turn out that way because they got old. They were mean and hateful young people who just got old. So it goes with self-centeredness.

No, the legacy old men feel compelled to create isn’t just for their ability to feel better about themselves (although that’s part of it and there’s nothing wrong with that). It’s largely influenced by wanting to pass it on to the next ones in line. Old men want to be remembered for something meaningful and the wise ones know that’s best done in helping those behind them.

Permit a personal illustration. There’s a little girl at church who gets a Diet Dr. Pepper in a cup, with a lid and straw from me as often as I can make it happen following our Sunday afternoon worship. It all began when she approached me – provoked by somebody, likely her mother – asking if she could have a drink of my Diet Dr. Pepper. Of course, I obliged. Then I gave her the entire thing. I now make it a point to take one to her, even if I didn’t get one wherever we dine out for lunch on Sunday. I’ve remarked to my wife, “I don’t know what she’ll remember or think, but I’m going to make sure her memories of me are fond ones!” Old men think like that. Young men don’t. That makes old men much, much more dangerous!

Old men are dangerous because our time with them is limited. They’re only a renewable resource in the sense that there’s always more old men coming down the pike. They’re non-renewable in the sense that when old men die, they’re gone.

Maybe that’s why old men will say whatever is on their mind. Of course, the danger is often found in an untethered mind resulting in an unfiltered tongue. Which is why I love watching and listening to the banter of really old movies…like The Man Who Came To Dinner with Monty Woolley, who played the leading role of Sheridan Whiteside. I love the rapid banter of these movies. And I rather love the old Mr. Whiteside character.

I was high school when I really fell in love with Winston Churchill. For the same reason. An articulate, intelligent, witty man posed to quickly respond. I’ve always admired it.

Churchill produced history’s funniest insult with a famous retort directed at either the socialist MP (Member of Parlament) Bessie Braddock or the Conservative Lady Astor, the first female MP (the story has involved both). When accused by one of them of being ‘disgustingly drunk’ the Conservative Prime Minister responded: ‘My dear, you are ugly, and what’s more, you are disgustingly ugly. But tomorrow I shall be sober and you will still be disgustingly ugly.’

I was 15 and Deep Purple’s Smoke On The Water was a big deal. That’s how I remember. The year was 1972. Another great year for music, but I digress – as I am wont to do. Steely Dan’s “Can’t Buy A Thrill” came out. Todd Rundgren’s “Hello, It’s Me” (song) was in regular rotation on my turntable. “You Wear It Well” by Rod Stewart and “Rocket Man” by Elton John were dominating the radio. And I was chuckling at a dead Prime Minister of England noted for delivering great speeches. And barbs. Admittedly, I was more fond of the barbs at the time. As I grew older I appreciated the speeches.

True confession: a younger version of me rather looked forward to the time when I could say what I wanted. Yeah, like Churchill. 😀

Speaking of 1972 and old men, Mick Jagger was singing “Tumbling Dice” that year. It was a pretty big hit by some old rock ‘n roll guys. We thought they were old then. They’re dinosaurs now! It’s all relative, right?

Come on. Mick was 29, almost 30 and over the hill when I was 15 rockin’ out to Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out.” Ask any 15-year-old if 29 is old and see how they answer!

But Mick doesn’t count. He’s been dangerous his whole life.

You see the rabbit hole that music creates for me? Okay, back to our regular programming – Old Men Are Dangerous!

Elders were highly regarded in ancient times. In some cultures they still matter, but not in America. Old folks and the dangers they provide – that’s right, PROVIDE – is going away. Not because old men are no longer dangerous, but because younger men don’t care.

Technology has had an impact. It’s forced us to think that anybody who lived in an era prior to the Internet can’t possibly have wisdom, knowledge or insight we can leverage. We assume the world has changed so dramatically that whatever danger they may have once provided…it’s over now! Completely unrelatable to the present condition.

Of course, what we fail to realize is that human beings haven’t changed. In forever. People are the same today as they were at the beginning of time. Tech comes and goes. Master today’s most cutting edge tech and within 10 years your knowledge will be obsolete. Master people – knowing people, understanding people – and ten years from now you’ll only know and understand more. And better!

Then there’s wisdom. Let’s not forget wisdom. Come on, we can’t forget the punch line to this entire podcast!

the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment

You can’t get that first one without putting in the time. Getting old is the trump card of having experience. Smart, sober-minded young men grow older. Eventually, they become smart, sober-minded old men filled with experience, knowledge and good judgment.

Does that sound like a resource? Does it sound a valuable resource?

Yeah, it does to me, too.

Which is why I’ve always leveraged old men. Just a handful of them. I’ve lost 3 very inner circle ones so far in my life. I’ve lost easily that many more in a more outer circle of influence. The 3 I’ve lost were all dangerous in their time. And in their own unique ways. Each was very different in their personality, communication style, viewpoints and talent. But they were all dangerous, which is why I leaned heavily on them. I wanted their danger to one day rub off on me. Well, truthfully I wasn’t waiting for it to rub off…I was doing whatever I could to learn from them.

None were imposing. I mean none of them was so disposed to just take a fellow under his wing, but if that fellow was determined to go under their on his own (and I was), then they were willing to let me. I pushed. I nudged. I made it a point of my life to let them know I wanted to know more, learn more and that I was willing to put in the work. Old men love a younger man willing to pay the price. It’s one of the first lessons I learned about old men. Once I got past being afraid. 😉

An online article entitled – Why saying ‘OK boomer’ at work is considered age discrimination – but millennial put-downs aren’t – appeared at The Conversation. Read it and make your own judgments. Me? I think we’re overrun with “protections” and folks getting their noses out of joint when we could simply embrace a bit of kindness, compassion, and understanding. But what do I know? Clearly not enough.

The real takeaway is the disregard we’re all capable of. In my youth, the phrase “generation gap” erupted onto the popular culture scene. I wasn’t much of a believer that a generation gap suddenly appeared in the 1960s. Even as a child I could tell there were differences in old folks and young folks. We kids were an entire category all to ourselves. Which is why we ate at the card table to ourselves.

Old men allowed kids to be kids…so long as the kids were together. Whenever kids entered the space of old men, then the old men made the rules. It was a brilliant set-up actually. One I often miss.

It wasn’t old men disregarding children. Rather it was an expectation old men had that kids would regard them with some fear, respect and esteem. Guess what? We did. Fear the. Respect them. And esteem them.

Today, I’m often surrounded by nosey kids who refuse to take a backseat to any adult. Rather, the kids are ALWAYS in the spotlight. It wasn’t always that way. Which makes me realize I completely missed out on the limelight, generationally.

When I was a kid, the older folks ruled. Now that I’m an old man, the younger folks rule. It’s like I never got my turn.

Now…I’m even more dangerous because of it.

Randy

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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!