age – Fast:Forward Farther

November 30, 2010November 30, 2010

Wonderful Memories

Bob Jones. That’s an ordinary name. Google lists 10 million results.

When I was a kid growing up in what is now the heart of the DFW Metroplex – it was country back in the 60’s and 70’s – one Bob Jones lived around the corner from our property. His wife Chris and he raised three kids. Their youngest was six years older than me, so we didn’t do a lot together. The two girls had quarter horses, and mom drove them all over everywhere to show Skippa Streak, a Grand National Champion. Bob stayed home to run their family business… and often would bring us the best homemade potato soup you’ll ever taste.

My understanding is his bio went something like this: father died when he was three and his mother raised seven children alone; had a ninth grade education; joined the Navy at 17 and served on Guam at the end of WWII; earned his master’s electrician license on the GI Bill; started a lighting fixtures business; became an early distributor of Casablanca ceiling fans; invested their money well, especially in local real estate; and, accumulated a net worth in the millions. Pretty much a Horatio Alger story thanks to hard work, street smarts and the Midas touch. The greatest generation.

In the last few years, Bob had health issues. They moved 100 miles west of Ft. Worth to the ghost town where Chris grew up, named for her great grandfather… Farmer, Texas. Their home sat atop a hill and looked out on 700 acres they owned. My three siblings and I visited them two Decembers ago. Bob’s sight was just about gone, yet his memory was perfect. He shared quite a few stories about our youth.

Bob Jones died yesterday at the age of 82. I’ll be heading to Ft. Worth for his funeral on Friday. You see, Chris is my late mother’s youngest sister… and Bob Jones was my uncle. It will be an honor and joy to celebrate his extraordinary life.

August 19, 2010October 29, 2010

Thinking Young

So I guess this is the way it’s going to be from here on out. Having turned 50 in June, I have received at least three direct mail offers in the last few months from AARP about joining their organization. Really? I have 10 more consecutive years of kids’ college tuition to pay – having only completed the first two. Plus, after the ‘lost decade’ of investment earnings, any thoughts of retirement aren’t circling around my head.

The good news is I can still run five miles in under 43 minutes – and my endurance continues to increase in the swimming class I began 10 weeks ago. I had a heart CT scan two weeks ago that came back perfectly fine, and later this month there’s that wonderful procedure us older folks get to enjoy called a colonoscopy. Ah, the fun that comes with the changing of the calendar.

At the recent Pro Football Hall of Fame ceremony, the first speaker was former Detroit Lions defensive back Dick LeBeau, who started his playing career the year before I was born and retired form the NFL in 1972. He’s spent the past 38 seasons as a coach and earned two Super Bowl rings this decade as defensive coordinator of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Dick LeBeau will be 73 years old in a few weeks. He looks 20 years younger, and so far this year has shot his age on the golf course 18 times. The final minutes of his induction speech really impacted me… and I repeat them here in hopes they’ll touch you too:

“Life is for living, folks. Don’t let a number be anything other than a number. Don’t let somebody tell you that you’re too old to do this or too old to do that. Stay in life. Life is a gift. It’s a joy. Don’t drop out of it. Don’t let somebody else tell you and don’t let your mind tell you.

If I would have gotten out of my life’s work at 65 or 67, when they say is the age of retirement, here is what I would have missed, folks. I would have missed not one but two World Championship football teams that I got to be a part of…. I got to be a part of a number one defense that statistically had the lowest numbers in the last 35 or 40 years. I had my number retired from my high school. Had a building named after me in my hometown. I made the Detroit Lions all 75-year team. I was accepted into the Ohio State University Athletic Hall of Fame. Now tonight I guess when I sit down, get off this speaking, which I’m gonna do, I’ll be in the NFL Hall of Fame.

My mother always said, ‘Onward and upward, age is just a number.’ God love y’all. Thank you.”

June 22, 2010

Master Stroke

Since age 24, I have always maintained an exercise program. For several years I lifted weights, before deciding push-ups and sit-ups get the job done in a lot less time. I jogged until I was 30, then put 10,000 miles on a Schwinn AirDyne bike. In 2001, I went back to running. As age 50 crept ever closer the past few months, my body complained often about recurring aches and pains. I sensed Father Time was telling me to find another way to stay in shape.

So I decided to take up swimming and, given my desire to do it right, enrolled in a 10-week training class at the YMCA. Upon arriving at the first session five days before my birthday, I discovered the other 12 participants all have been participating in this program for at least a year; several are former competitive swimmers. I also learned the sport of swimming is a lot harder than Michael Phelps makes it look. After 20 minutes – having ingested, I’m certain, more than a safe amount of chlorine and feeling I was close to hyperventilating – I told the instructor, “I don’t think I can do this. Running is so much easier.” She politely said: “Yes, you can. Give me three weeks and you’ll be swimming laps with everyone.”

Tomorrow is that three-week mark, and while I’m still not good – that’s me bringing up the rear in the beginner’s lane, struggling to figure out how to take a breath during freestyle and sitting out about every third rotation – I’m starting to get the rhythm of swimming. Looking down the road to August 18th when this session ends, I have a clear vision of signing up for the next one and spending many more days in the pool.

The lesson here is this: Implementing something new and important – whether it’s business strategy or personal development – doesn’t come without a large dose of learning, a big serving of frustration and a giant piece of humble pie. The key is to put one arm in front of the other, keep kicking and breathe calmly. Looking in the mirror each morning and channeling your inner Stuart Smalley helps too: “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!”

August 31, 2009September 10, 2009

Just Say Thanks

Some say how you act as an adult is determined when you are a child. If that’s the case, I’m amazed many leaders have forgotten one of the best lessons they learned at a young age. It’s something one of my business mentors convinced me to adopt as a habit long ago: send a hand-written thank you note whenever you have the opportunity.

Of course, in this instantaneous world, it’s easier to type an e-mail, leave a voice mail or key in a text. Do you even remember the last time someone sent you a hand-written thank you note? Do you have any idea the last time you sent one to an acquaintance? I receive them so rarely that I keep them in a shoebox.

Rick Baker is the president of the AT&T Cotton Bowl. Following every meeting with him during my previous career more than a decade ago – whether for a casual lunch or a formal business session – I received a personalized thank you note in the mail. One time I asked about the process. He carries the notes in his car, he told me, and as soon as the meeting ends he writes them. When he returns to the office, his assistant hands him the address, which he writes on the envelope. She adds a stamp and sticks them in the outgoing mail. Three minutes of his time made great impressions on me…and likely everyone else he meets.