When I was very young, I was terrified of large bodies of water including swimming pools. Part of my fear came from the fact that my mother was scared of water and always preached to me how I could easily drown if I wasn't careful around water. She was so terrified of water that even standing on a beach, far away from the shore, was extremely difficult for her. So, she passed that fear on to me at a very early age. It is very difficult to fear water if you want to be active and involved in organizations. For instance, I joined the boy scouts and when we went to summer camp, I would stand on the pool deck and simply watch as the other scouts had fun splashing about in the pool. For a ten year old it is a difficult thing not to be able to join in on the fun. But my fear of water kept me firmly planted safely away from the water. I was told at the end of the camp, that if I did not learn how to swim that future summer camp participation would be difficult and in fact, I would never be able to successfully progress as a scout because swimming was required. And so when I left summer camp that year, I thought I might never return. But then fate intervened.
The noted psychiatrist, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, once wrote, "The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." I ran across this quote a few days ago when I was having a conversation with a close friend. And as I thought about the quote I realized that the "beautiful people" Dr. Ross referred to are rare.
I haven't written much for awhile. I just didn't feel it. So, since May, I have had a severe case of writer's block. Now, that's just an excuse, I know. There is nothing that we can't fight through. But for some reason, over the past few months, every time I sat down to write, I just couldn't seem to come up with the words. It just wasn't flowing for me. But yesterday, that all changed when I met Barbara and Leon on my Southwest flight. And I have to tell you, they are a special couple.
1976 was a year of change - both good and bad. The Steelers beat Dallas in the Superbowl - I lost money on that game. The Naval Academy accepted its first female class - somewhat appropriate that it happened in 1976, but still way too late. And Babara Jordan, yes, Barbara Jordan, gave a historic speech when delivering the keynote address at the Democratic National Convention, becoming the first African American to deliver a keynote address for either party.
It's been going on for a number of years. In fact, since he was about nine. He fell in love with rap and hip hop. Yep, my oldest son. I did what I could to block it. I played a lot of old R&B tunes and even let him listen to top 40. But he stayed true to his music and stuck with the Rap and Hip Hop. Which wasn't so bad. At first.
I grew up in the small city of Massillon. Situated in Northeastern Ohio, it's claim to fame is football. Located less than 10 miles from the Pro Football Hall of Fame, the town has a long, storied history of significant gridiron greats and gridiron accomplishments. In Massillon, September to November were the greatest times to be alive. That was when it all happened. And everything, and I mean everything, revolve around our high school football team, the Massillon Washington High School Tigers, or better known as the Massillon Tigers.
Sometimes folk come along in our lives and make a tremendous impact. An impact that will last for the ages. They see us as we are and try to help us shape a decent future. They recognize our potential and do whatever they can to bring that potential to fruition. Such was the case with Dale Young. Dale Young, or as his students called him, Señor Young, was the Spanish teacher when I was in high school. I had the honor of having him as an instructor for 3 years. And during those three years he was determined to bring out the very best in me. And he did.
Back in the sixties, before there were video games, IPods and personal computers, we had the outdoors to keep us busy. Strange as it may seem, we looked forward to going outside - winter or summer. It didn't make a difference. We just wanted to be outside. At school, we had three recesses per day and once we got home and finished our chores, we went outside to play. Television for us was an after thought. Besides, we only had three channels! Yet nothing could beat summer break. We looked forward to it all year.
It's strange that I would write about a television program. Strange indeed. But actually, this blog entry is not about the show Grey's Anatomy, but about the person I watch this show with.
A while back, while channel surfing, I stopped on one of those independent stations to listen in on Joyce Meyer. I don't know much about her, outside of the fact that she is a gifted minister, and I had never heard her speak. But for some reason, on that night, I stopped, quite by accident, and listened in for a few minutes. She was finishing up her sermon so I had missed most of the program. I was getting ready to turn the channel when she said, "lay a hand on what's in front of you." I had to chuckle for a minute when I heard it because it's so basic, but makes so much sense.