Graduation Days

I spent summer 1981 as an intern at KDFW-TV in Dallas. In late August, I was preparing to go back for my senior year at the University of Texas – needing just 18 hours to graduate – when sportscaster Dale Hansen pulled me into his office and said, “I want to offer you a job.” I replied: “Super. I graduate in May, and I’ll definitely be back.” Dale shook his head and said, “The job won’t be here in May, so if you want it, you start next week.”

The next few days are a blur, yet I recall Dale speaking with my parents and guaranteeing them I would finish my degree, driving to Austin to meet with the dean of the Journalism School and finding him surprisingly open to my request to create a special degree program, and accepting the position of sports producer for a starting salary of $5.05 per hour.

In 18 days our oldest daughter graduates from UT, and as with many students she’s trying to land that first job. I’m reading a lot lately by columnists questioning the value of a college degree when so many kids are finding it difficult to earn a salary commiserate with their education. Many of these writers suggest only getting a degree in something that’s highly marketable such as teaching, engineering or science.

That’s a great theory; however, it’s difficult to place an 18-year-old in that box. My three older brothers majored in finance. One became a lawyer and the other two earned advanced degrees. As a teenager, I grew so tired of hearing them talk about business that I decided to pursue another path.

When our first-born was in the womb, every night I whispered, “Left-handed hitting catcher” to her, figuring that would be a valuable skill someday. When a newborn girl appeared, each night during her 2 a.m. feeding, I looked her in the eyes and said, “You should be a doctor.” Instead, she grew to be a talented artist and musician. Her dual degrees are in French and Linguistics, and she’s completing an internship at a museum. That’s the career she’d like to pursue.

While the financial road may be challenging, I am confident she’ll find the path to a joyful life. Everyone has different gifts and we should encourage our children to utilize each of their individual ones. Some of the most frustrated folks I’ve met are those who pursued a career ‘because my parents wanted me to’ and ended up in jobs they couldn’t stand.

Eventually, I fulfilled Dale’s promise to my parents – taking one class each semester for two years at UT-Arlington then returning to UT-Austin for a summer session – earning my degree in August 1984. Now 31 years after getting my break in television, I’ve changed careers three times – owning a travel company, working in franchising and going on nine years as an executive coach. My advice: pursue what you love. Everything else will take care of itself.

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Foreword Thinking

Growing up I played a lot of golf with three lifelong friends. In 1980, the hottest summer on record before this one, we’d tee off at first daylight – 6 a.m. – to beat the heat. Those were great times and I have lasting memories of our outings on the links. Sadly, in October 1982, one of our foursome died in a car accident.

The following summer, the three of us left behind decided to start a golf tournament to honor our friend. The first outing had 12 players. Over the next decade it steadily grew, and we typically had 88 participants. During years 13-23, another good friend took the reins and did a great job. Through it all, we raised more than $100,000 for a scholarship fund at our high school in Fort Worth. After the 2005, tournament, everyone knew the time had come to end it.

Then one year ago this week, another friend reached out and asked if we would allow him to restart it. “That was such a wonderful chance for everyone to get together every year,” he said. “I’d be willing to do all the work, if you guys will tell me what needs to happen.” Of course, we said yes, and on Sunday 40 of our long-time players will tee it up in the 24th Paul Knippel Memorial.

I turned 23 the week of that first tournament. Everyone who played was within a few years of my age. Now we’re on either side of 50. This time, my 17-year-old son is playing with me, along with my 21-year-old nephew and my brother. By grace, those of us in the Class of ’78 have lived a lot of life Paul never had the opportunity to experience. Somewhere, he’ll be smiling as we gather again. Life passes quickly. Make sure you reconnect with those who matter.

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