Tag: child

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Double Meaning

Most of the time I am actively reading a suspense novel… and whenever I discover new authors, I’ll dive into every one of their tomes. Thus, I quickly made my way through all 11 books in Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child’s Pendergast series after I stumbled upon “Dance of the Dead” at an airport bookstore in 2006. (Can’t wait for the next one in December!) I also read many of the novels they wrote individually.

Historical thriller films – like Nicholas Cage’s “National Treasure” – also are great entertainment for me. There’s something about the mix of history and fiction blended with suspenseful drama that creates a few hours of diversion from the challenges of everyday life.

Many of these storylines date to the American Revolution, which provided a lot of subplots as George Washington continually outflanked the more seasoned and better supplied British military officers with ingenuity and sleight-of-hand. (The best historical fiction writer is my friend William Martin. Read “Citizen Washington” for amazing insight on our nation’s greatest leader.)

If I ever get around to writing the next great American fiction novel, I think much of it will be encrypted. In the meantime, in case you’re curious what reading it would be like, here is a famous quote from the other greatest American president. Have fun deciphering:

Gpit dvptr smf drbrm urstd shp pit gsyjrtd ntpihjy gptyj pm yjod vpmyomrmy, s mre msyopm, vpmvrobrf om zonrtyu, smf frfovsyrf yp yjr atpapdoyopm yjsy szz qrm str vtrsyrf rwisz.

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Good Questions

When our youngest daughter was four, we were visiting friends out of town. She and their four-year-old were upstairs putting on dress-up clothes. The doorbell rang, and the police officer standing on the front porch explained there had been an emergency call from a child at the residence. Mystified as to what was going on, we asked the girls to explain, and ours said: “Daddy told me if I ever need help to dial 9-1-1. I didn’t know which dress to wear, so I called to ask.”

Fast-forward eight years… our soon-to-be teenager is having some challenges with a couple of girls at her junior high. She asks us what to do, and I say, “Be nice, and eventually they’ll be nice to you.” She tries. Things don’t improve. She seeks a different answer. This time she doesn’t call 911; she e-mails one of the counselors at the camp she attended last summer. Seems that young woman told all the campers: “If you ever need advice, feel free to contact me.”

There is wonderful beauty in my precocious child’s inherent trait to take things at face value. More importantly, she’s unafraid to ask anyone anything. That should serve her well eight years from now when she’s finishing college and starting to look for a job. You’ll be a better leader by utilizing her approach when you’re looking for answers. Ask questions. Then ask some more. I’ve seen it work firsthand.

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Zoom Zoom Zoom

Our middle child – and only son – turns 16 today. That means this afternoon we’re heading to the Department of Public Safety where he’ll take his driver’s license test. As he’s spent a lot of hours behind the wheel since getting his learner’s permit, I’m confident he’ll pass in flying colors. (That’s assuming he can overcome the pesky parallel parking that trips up so many.)

The concern I have is putting a young man who’s growing up in the video game generation – where there’s always a reset button – on the road. It’s not so much I’m worried about how he’ll do. It’s all those folks who blow through stop signs, speed through changing lights and cut in and out of traffic like they’re late for claiming a lottery grand prize. Face it, driving is a lot different today than when I got my license nearly 35 years ago; although we definitely did our fair share of ‘what were we thinking’ things.

There are several parallels between driving and business. First, obviously you can’t just hit ‘start new game’ when things don’t go as planned. You have to get out the map and chart a new course. Second, there are a lot of road hazards, and you have to pay attention at every turn or someone or some thing may come shooting at you out of nowhere. Third, you’re going to make a few poor judgment calls, and all you can do is head to the repair shop, bang out the dent and get back on the road to success.

The best thing about having a son receive his driver’s license is he can now chauffeur our youngest to after-school activities… assuming,  of course, I actually ever let him leave the house.

[Prior to allowing our son to climb into the driver’s seat, we mutually agreed to abide by the guidelines below – and I referred back to them on several occasions. My apologies to the author for not remembering where on the Internet I found this; full credit belongs to him/her.]

Reminder Notes before I get in the car with my son…

> I love my son!

> My son loves me!

> If we are running late – don’t let him drive.

> If it is a really tough time to drive or we are going to an awkward destination, don’t let him drive.

> If he misses an instruction or doesn’t understand an instruction or is confused, the default is to go straight ahead or keep going.

> Any criticisms I make are not personal; they are about making improvements.

> I want him to be safe on the roads.

> There are to be no arguments about my criticisms until we have finished the drive. Then we can disagree!

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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.

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Step Right Up

I played youth baseball for five seasons…and our record always seemed to be 8-8. My team lost the league finals in eighth grade basketball. Through all my years of competitive sports as a kid the only trophies I ever won were in Putt-Putt tournaments, where I had an adept skill of hitting the ball exactly where needed on the orange metal sideboards.

One of my awakenings as a parent was learning this is an ‘Every child gets a trophy’ and “Everybody’s a winner’ world. There is a box in our attic of more than 40 trophies ‘earned’ by our kids. The fact is not one is for winning a championship. Instead, they are for participation – acknowledgment that attending practices and showing up for games is somehow worthy of recognition.

There is a new law on the books here in Texas that a school district “may not require a classroom teacher to assign a minimum grade for an assignment.” Why was it necessary for our leaders to enact this legislation? Seems many districts had policies that set 50 as the lowest grade a student could receive, even if they failed to turn in an assignment or made 30 on an exam. Perhaps those in charge of education are recognizing that the by-product of No Child Left Behind Without A Trophy could be a generation without accountability. One that assumes everything always works out in the end, because they always reward me for just showing up.

I coached my son’s basketball team for six seasons, and the last two we lost the championship game. Some kids cried afterwards, saddened by coming up short for the second straight year. I didn’t know what to say. If I had it to do all over, here’s what I would tell them: “I’m proud of you for growing as a team each week. You listened, practiced hard and are a lot better than you were three months ago. You aren’t always going to win. That’s not how life is. Learn from this, and make changes that make you better.” That lesson would serve them better than some trophy that eventually ends up stored in the attic.

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