Life is short: pursue your passion

In the 1991 movie “City Slickers,” the tough-as-nails cowboy played by the late Jack Palance engages Billy Crystal’s character – mired in a mid-life crisis – in a discussion about life and happiness.

“The secret to life is only one thing,” says Palance’s wise and wizened cowboy, Curly.

“What?” asks Crystal’s character.

“That’s what you’ve got to figure out,” says Curly.

I’ve seen the movie more than once, and I always get a kick out of that line: it speaks to the idea that one secret to happiness is to find something you’re passionate about and then to doggedly pursue it.

Good advice, I believe, but easier said than done.

To me, it seems a two step challenge. First, you have to discover your true passion. Then, you must muster the courage to puruse it.

Some people make the discovery at an early age; equally important, they act on it.

In his autobiography Lucky Man, the actor Michael J. Fox says he knew as a youngster that he wanted to be an actor. Indeed, by age 14 or so he was starring on Canadian TV, and then at 18 he skipped college to move to Los Angeles to pursue his passion. Of course, he was enormously successful.

Similarly, Larry King’s 7^th grade year book announces his life ambition to be a “radio announcer.” According to King’s autobiography, A Remarkable Journey, a father figure brushed aside King’s talk of working in radio, urging him instead to accept a job working in his factory after high school. Of course, King ignored the advice and pursued his passion, becoming one of the great media personalities in U.S. history.

While not everyone who pursues his or her dream ends up happy, at least they took a shot. Most of us never even chase the dream.

Why not?

For some of us, we never discover our true passion; for others, we find the dream but not the courage to pursue it. Either way, we’re usually too busy playing out roles expected of us: getting married, working a regular job, paying down a mortgage, raising children.

Of course, there are great joys to be had living a simple and honest life, finding stable work and raising a family. It’s the life I’ve chosen, and the rewards are many. Also, not all passions require running away to join the circus or abandoning your day job: it could be as simple as finally learning to play a musical instrument or diving into that hobby you’ve quietly dreamed of trying.

Whether the dream is large or small, it’s worth pursuing. U.S. Army General Omar Bradley said, “We are given one life and the decision is ours whether to wait for circumstances to make up our mind, or whether to act and, in acting, live.”

I think that pursuing your passion is the act of living. My wish is that we all find the courage to discover and pursue what is truly, deeply in our hearts.

I’m careful how I spend my time

Nothing is more important to me than my family, so I’m protective of the time I spend with loved ones.

I mention this because my life is full of prospective time robbers – usually well-meaning people who pull and tug at me for my time. Could I attend a breakfast meeting before work? Am I available for a meeting with a local nonprofit after work? Would I mind staffing an educational booth for another group this weekend?

No single request is particularly onerous, but the cumulative effect is pronounced. On occasion, I leave home before my daughter gets up for school and return when she’s climbing back into bed.  

Thankfully, those days are now rare, but it took a conscious effort to make it so. I simply had to begin saying “Sorry, but no.” Some people are taken aback when I tell them I’m not available all the time anymore, even when I explain that I’m going home to spend time with my family.

Of course, I haven’t cut myself off completely from off-hours work. I enjoy my job, and the very nature of public relations/marketing work requires an “available at all hours” attitude. No problem, there. I also enjoy volunteer work. But I’ve learned that moderation is the key. Saying “no” is not a crime. In fact, it’s been one of the best decisions of my life. Consider:

• My father turned 80 this year, and I no longer tell him I can’t play golf on Saturdays.
• My daughter is already 7 years old. I know I have precious few years remaining to be “cool” in her eyes, when she still wants to show me her drawings and take bike rides together.
• And just recently, a friend died from a stroke. Her sudden death was a striking reminder that time is so precious.  

Samuel Johnson, the 18^th century British author, said “Life is not long, and too much of it must not pass in idle deliberation of how it shall be spent.”

I know how I want to spend my time. Yes, I want to volunteer, to help others, to be a valued employee and a good citizen of my community.

Mostly, though, I want to be a good husband, father, son and friend. I do that best by deciding how I spend my time.

Go green: dispose of electronic waste responsibly

After using my first computer for about five years, the old unit sat on a desk for another five years, waiting to be sent to computer heaven. My wife still stored some files on the old beast and wasn’t in any rush for me to haul it off, but I was eager to create space on the crowded desk.

The problem was how to properly dispose of an old computer. I tried to donate it to several schools and non-profits, but nobody wanted a 10-year-old Hewlett Packard powered by a 90 MHZ Pentium I chip. I called a couple of electronics stores and the local landfill. No luck. (Maybe I should have called a museum.)

I finally drove it to my city’s recycling center, which mercifully relieved me from it about two years ago.

Today, some U.S. states require television and computer manufacturers to recycle their products free of charge. While some of the laws have been on the books since 2004, I just learned of them. According to the New York Times, 18 states have laws that make manufacturers responsible for recycling electronics. More than a dozen other states are considering similar statutes.

The laws are intended to prevent electronic equipment — television sets, computers, monitors and printers — from ending up in landfills where they can leach chemicals into groundwater. The E.P.A. estimates that 2.6 million tons of electronic waste were dropped into landfills in 2007.

Electronics recycling laws vary from state to state. In most, manufacturers are responsible for the collection and recycling system, although some will pay states or counties to handle the pickup. Many laws specifically ban residents from dumping electronics into the regular trash.

I try to hang onto my electronic equipment as long as possible: I kept my analog TV for 14 years and then gave it to a friend, who still uses it for video games. When the bell finally does toll for another device, like my 1980s-era hi-fi stereo system, I’ll do the right thing and find a suitable resting place for it, rather than just heave it into the local landfill.

I think it’s the right thing to do.

Mom’s tough life provides perspective

It’s a well-worn ritual for young people to roll their eyes as their elders lament how tough life was years ago. Every grandparent has a story about walking to school in the snow (uphill, both ways) or living without some modern convenience.

I catch myself now and again telling my 7-year-old daughter about my own childhood – life before the personal computer, the Internet, email, cell phones, cable TV or the myriad of other indulgences she takes for granted.

I’m just continuing the tradition. I remember my father telling me about his first job, delivering ice for “ice boxes” before the days of modern refrigeration.

My mother, though, had the most sobering stories. She never complained.

Mom, a British citizen, was born in 1930, during the United Kingdom’s Great Depression. Both her parents died when she was young, and she grew up in London in the middle of WW II. The city was under heavy Nazi bombing, which killed more than one of her young friends. As air raid warnings blew and Nazi planes dropped bombs overhead, Mom frequently dove into muddy ditches on the way to school. To make money after school, she cleaned houses; food and clothes were rationed. During the war, no light could be visible from any home after sunset, so she spent her nights in the dark.

Mom finished her formal schooling in her mid teens, then worked in a factory for a year or so before joining the Royal Air Force. At 22, she married my father and had eight children – seven boys and one girl, over a 14 year period, all while moving around the world every two or three years. Dad focused his energy at work in the military; Mom raised all eight of us and still found time to volunteer at our schools and in the community. 

My mother never smoked a day in her life but died of a lung disease at the age of 71. Throughout her life, my mother had great common sense and lived by the Golden Rule. She taught her children the importance of personal responsibility. She appreciated the simple things in life.   

I think about Mom’s life whenever someone complains about a minor annoyance, like the satellite TV going out during a storm or the GPS suggesting a wrong turn to a new restaurant.

Her life still provides me with a sobering perspective.

Mom taught me to think for myself

Years ago, I came home from school one day and promptly sat across from my mother at the kitchen table. I was about 11 years old, and I had a question.

A teacher had challenged the class by posing some dilemma we had to solve. The details are lost to memory, but I vaguely remember the teacher creating some scenario in which the answer was not clear, each potential solution fraught with problems. I found it frustrating.

I was quite good at memorizing facts and figures, and most of our lessons and tests consisted of reading material and then regurgitating cold, hard facts. This whole “thinking through a problem” stuff seemed like a waste of time; just tell me the information to memorize.

My mother, of course, had a different perspective.

“This is good practice for solving real problems,” my mother said. “You’ll find times in life when the answers are not so clear, and you’ll have to work things out.”

I was skeptical, but Mom pressed me.

“What if you’re facing a situation without a simple answer? What will you do if you haven’t worked on difficult problems before?” she asked.

“I’ll ask you!” I said earnestly. I always turned to my mom for guidance.

“What if I’m not here?” Mom asked.

“I’ll find you,” I said.

“But I won’t always be here,” Mom said with a faint smile.

I took her words literally, as if she might be away shopping at the very moment I needed her, or worse, be out of town for the weekend. I still didn’t understand the need to learn this whole problem solving stuff.

At Mom’s urging, though, I worked on my critical thinking skills. Eventually, I became good at identifying and solving problems, both in the classroom and in the real world.

But it wasn’t until college that her words at the kitchen table finally sank in: I realized Mom was trying to tell me she wouldn’t live forever; I needed to learn to solve problems on my own.

Mom passed several years ago. One of her many gifts was helping me to learn to think critically. I still miss bouncing ideas off her and the way she would challenge my assumptions about a path I intended to take. In the end, though, she always required me to work through my own problems and make my own decisions – and take responsibility for them.

My daughter is only seven, but I’ve already begun to teach her some of the same lessons about thinking for herself. As much I as desire it, I won’t always be here for her….

Does Michael Vick deserve a second chance?

Just how heinous of an act would someone need to commit before you denied them redemption – or at least a second chance?

Such is the question facing professional football (NFL) fans around the country after the Philadelphia Eagles signed quarterback Michael Vick to a $1.6 million one-year deal, with an option for a second year.

Here’s a little background: Vick was the first player selected in the 2001 NFL draft, taken No. 1 overall by the Atlanta Falcons, which he quarterbacked for six seasons. At one point, he was one of the most popular and recognizable athletes in the league, not to mention its highest paid player.

But in August 2007, Vick plead guilty to felony counts of conspiracy and running a dog-fighting ring that brutally killed and tortured canines. News reports state that Vick himself killed some of the dogs by beating, drowning and electrocuting them, usually because they did not “perform” well as fighting dogs.

He served 18 months in federal prison before being released in May 2009. The NFL Commissioner subsequently ruled that he could play in the NFL again (after he essentially serves a six game suspension), and yesterday the Eagles signed him as a back-up quarterback.

Given the brutality of his crimes, football fans appear split on whether Vick should have the right to play in the NFL again.

Vick supporters say he has admitted his guilt, apologized for his actions, paid his debt to society, lost millions in sponsor endorsements, and vowed to work with the Humane Society to bring awareness to cruelty to animals. They believe he is a remorseful man who should be allowed to resume his professional career.

Other fans – many dog lovers among them – believe that playing in the NFL is a privilege and that Vick’s actions were so reprehensible that they don’t want him in the league. (Fans have already printed T-shirts that say “Hide your Beagles – Here Comes the Eagles.”) People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals released a statement criticizing the Eagles’ decision.

My opinion is mixed. I don’t think Vick should be banned from the NFL, but I don’t want him on my team.

I believe NFL players are role models for children (whether or not they want to be), and I’m uneasy with kids getting the message that you can commit violent crimes and then be put on a pedestal and paid millions of dollars. I don’t care if Vick takes a low profile job to make a living, but I don’t want him representing my team and community. Also, as a dog lover, I don’t want to root for Vick. He may or may not be remorseful, but there’s something creepy about someone who commited such violence.

Would I ban Vick from the NFL? No, I guess not – I’m not saying throw him in the electric chair. But I don’t want him wearing the teal and black of my favorite team, either.

Five Tips for a Smooth Move

I’ve packed up and changed homes more than a dozen times since graduating from college, most recently moving everything from our 3-bedroom home into a new house across town. I’ve learned a few tricks along the way to save time and headaches. Here are my top five moving tips:

Declutter the house. Before packing, get rid of all that stuff you don’t need – the clothes you never wear or those old toys in the garage – so you don’t spend time packing the junk and then cluttering your new home. Hold a garage sale or donate it all to charity. Not only will this simplify your move, but you’ll have more room in your new house. Moving is a GREAT time to dump all your junk.

Keep a file for paperwork. It’s amazing how much paperwork is needed to move: change of address forms, utility transfers, receipts, key phone numbers, etc. Dedicate a single notebook for all moving paperwork. You’ll save yourself a lot of headaches.

Color code each box with a little sticker to match with its destination room. Apply colored stickers on the top of each box, then put a matching sticker on the door to each room in the new house. This takes all the guess work out of where things belong for those unloading, and it will speed the process. I failed to do this during our recent move. The result: I had to stand over every box and make snap decisions; some heavy boxes ended up in the wrong room, creating more moving fun for me later.

Make arrangements for Fluffy or Cujo. Most pets hate moving day. If possible, move them before the big truck arrives. If that’s not possible, put them in a comfortable bedroom or bathroom while you load the truck.  

Keep small parts in marked plastic bags. Each time you dismantle a piece of furniture or equipment, put all the nuts, bolts and other hardware in a sealed plastic sandwich bag – and label the bag accordingly, along with a note reminding you of any special tool needed to re-assemble. Use a different bag for each piece of furniture, or you’ll drive yourself crazy figuring out which bracket belongs to which bed frame. Some people like to tape the bags to the underside or back of the disassembled item, but I like to keep one box with all the separate plastic bags. As long as each bag is sealed and marked, you’re good to go.

Give yourself plenty of time to pack, and follow these five steps for a simpler move. Happy moving!

Teachers make a difference

My recent visit to an elementary school reminds me that teachers can make a life-long impact on people.

I still remember a 7^th grade social studies teacher, Les West, almost 30 years after I last saw him.

Coach West, as everyone called him (because he also was the football coach) taught a class he created called “Values.” He was so alarmed at what he considered eroding values among American young people that he wanted every one of his students to study virtues such as honesty and trust. I loved that class and still try to uphold many of the values he so passionately taught.

I also remember a first grade music teacher – not so fondly – who told me that my hands were too small to ever play the guitar.  

She was a young teacher, not particularly cheerful as I recall, who one day instructed all the students in class to form a line in the school auditorium. We were to march up on stage, one at a time, choose an instrument, and sit with the teacher to learn the basics. I excitedly chose the guitar and strode nervously to a chair on center stage. I had ALWAYS wanted to play the guitar!

As soon as I sat down, the teacher impatiently told me my hands and arms were in the wrong position – I had never held a guitar before – and berated me for not immediately correcting the problem. She physically tried to move my hands into position but I couldn’t wrap my little arms around the adult-sized guitar. I still remember her telling me, “Your arms and hands are too small to ever play the guitar; you’ll need to choose another instrument.” I sat there dumbfounded and disappointed. Seconds later, she thrust a recorder into my hands and told me to leave the stage. I was dejected: I would never learn to play the guitar, I thought, because surely a music teacher would know of such things.

I was in college before I realized the problem wasn’t my little hands and arms, but an idiot for a music teacher. I didn’t hold a guitar again until I was in my mid 20s – they were a youthful symbol of disappointment and I literally avoided them– and I’ve still never learned to play. (It’s on my “things to do before I die” list.)

I don’t think of the music teacher often; I do think fondly of Coach West. I remember lessons from both, and one of the most important is that teachers can make a lasting impression on their students. Mine did.

Good parents make for good schools

This isn’t a shocking revelation, but I’ve seen first hand that involved parents are a key ingredient to a good school.

Awhile back, I visited a school where a friend worked. I remarked to a teacher that the kids appeared well-behaved, but the teacher advised that some kids – only 11 and 12-years old – were nearly out of control, misbehaving in class and disrespecting every adult on property.

“I called one mother to tell her that her son spoke rudely to everyone in school, including to his teachers and the administrative staff,” the teacher said. “The mother said ‘Good! I’m teaching that boy not to take any crap from anybody.’”

Other parents there devalue reading and doing homework, the teacher said, because the parents themselves had dropped out of school and didn’t see their choice as a mistake.

Most telling to me, though, was a holiday luncheon I attended for a third grade class at the school. All parents were invited and encouraged to attend. Of 20 students in the class, perhaps 10 had parents show up: seven or eight mothers, one father and one grandfather. No student had two parents show up; half the students had no parents attend.

The school is one of the lowest performing in the city, as measured by standardized testing.

In contrast, I attended a parents’ breakfast at a private school in the same city. Of 22 students, 19 had both parents attend the event, while the other three students had only the mother attend. Not coincidentally, the students at this school do exceptionally well academically.

I’m keenly aware that kids attending the private school are more likely to enjoy the luxury of a parent who stays at home and therefore can attend a midday event, while kids in the inner city may be more likely to have two working parents.

All kids deserve parents who are involved in their children’s lives and who think school is important. I think the challenge is how to make that happen….

Swim lessons high on our summer list

Before this summer fully ramps up, I plan to enroll my 7-year-old daughter in swim lessons.

Not just for fun, but for her safety.

She loves the water – swimming in pools and wading in the ocean – but she always wears a life vest because she cannot stay afloat without one. I’m not looking to make her the next Michael Phelps; I just want her to be safe.

I read too many stories – at least one every week – about a young child who drowns in a pool.

The New York Daily News  reports on a University of Memphis’ study which found that about 30 percent of white children ages six to 16 cannot swim, while an even more alarming 56 percent of Hispanic children and 58 percent of African-American children cannot swim.

CNN also reports that nearly 300 young kids die in pools and spas every year, according to the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission. About 80 percent of the deaths happen in residential settings.

I learned to swim by the time I was six or seven. I took YMCA swim lessons over a couple of summers, and to this day I’m a decent swimmer. It’s high time my daughter learned to swim, too.  If you have young children at home who do not swim, the start of summer is a good time for them to learn.

For more information on pool safety, visit www.PoolSafety.gov.