Always Remember

Last week, our youngest – for an 8th grade class – had to interview someone about the ‘most historical moment’ of his/her lifetime. She chose her grandfather, who just celebrated his 80th birthday. He told her the assassination of JFK tops his list, as he was too young to remember Pearl Harbor, although having spent 27 years as a naval fighter pilot beginning in 1954, he certainly understands the meaning and significance of ‘a date which will live in infamy.’

I was three-and-a-half on November 22, 1963, and have been fascinated by JFK since my sophomore geography teacher told us about his experience as a senior in high school in Dallas on that fateful day. I’ve read most of the conspiracy books, watched all the famous news programs, walked Dealey Plaza and spent time in the Sixth Floor Museum. I’ve even seen Lee Harvey Oswald’s unmarked grave in Rose Hill cemetery – a hunt completed with my sister and brother-in-law on the 25th anniversary of the tragedy.

Today, we remember the victims of 9/11, so I asked our daughter – who’s a senior in college – what she recalls from being a sixth grader in 2001:

“They didn’t tell us about it right away, but we knew something was wrong, because teachers were crying and kids were being picked up. After a while we had this assembly, and the guy basically told us God had performed so many miracles that day, which didn’t make sense to me. Oh, and I remember asking one of the lunch aides why kids were leaving, and she said ‘must be a lot of dentist appointments.’ None of the adults knew how to handle the situation. They saw us as kids, but a lot changed for us on that day. As part of the post-9/11 generation, I think we would better handle something like this, or at least know how to talk about it.”

It’s a common conversation piece to ask those who experienced historical moments where they were and what they were doing when they found out. For those alive today, the discussions might include the Crash of 1929, Pearl Harbor, Germany’s surrender, Jackie Robinson, JFK, the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, Neil Armstrong, Nixon’s resignation, Challenger, the fall of the Berlin Wall and 9/11.

Of course, as time passes, memories become less clear. Yet, as long as we pause to reflect, those dramatic events will remain part of who we are as a nation. We’ll pass them on to future generations, and hopefully teach them new lessons. A friend who’s a printer made a magnet for clients a couple of weeks after 9/11. He gave one to us. It shows an American flag and says, “We Will Never Forget.” We haven’t. It’s still on our refrigerator.

Share

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.

Share

Green Thumb

One of the things I take a lot of pride in is the appearance of our yard. While the one-eighth acre lot is not exactly a botanical garden, it means a lot to me that it’s always green and clean. While my 16-year-old son and I do the mowing and pruning, we turn over chemical applications to a pro. That’s why I think we have one of the nicest lawns in our neighborhood. Or at least we did for a dozen years.

Last September I noticed a small corner of our front yard was browning in a two-foot wide area. Within a week, it had spread wider, so we called ‘Fertilizer Man.’ (After all these years we still don’t know his name. He just shows up unannounced, does his thing and leaves a preprinted invoice. Then we send a check to his office.) He applied a special treatment to the St. Augustine and said we should be fine with new growth in the spring.

Unfortunately, when the grass turned green six weeks ago, the now 10-foot triangular patch failed to arrive as planned. Add the worst drought in these parts in decades and my pride and joy is looking poor and neglected.

Yesterday, FM returned for his quarterly application. I went out to ask for advice, and the first thing he said was, “I am embarrassed and confused about this. I apologize for not knowing what to do. It has me completely baffled.” He suggested we rake the area clean, replant two trays of plugs, add Leaf Mold Compost – ‘the most magical dirt you’ll ever find’ – and nurture the lawn back to health.

It was great to experience a person who takes so much pride in his work that he apologized and felt the need to admit his lack of understanding. Here’s a guy who spends every day in the hot Texas sun fertilizing yards for people he neither knows nor sees, and yet he treats each lawn as an artist views his canvas. Those are attributes to which every professional should aspire.

Share

Lessons Learned – #10

You acquire wisdom one enlightened moment at a time. For me, 2011 marks 30 years since I began working. That’s a lot of opportunities for learning. Each December, our e-newsletter focuses on the Top 10 lessons I learned during the year. Here is #10 for 2010:

Innovative Idea – Patrick Lencioni, author of “The Five Dysfunctions of a Team,” coined a term this year: creatonomy. He defines it as leaders encouraging employees “to do their jobs and satisfy customers in the most effective and charismatic way possible.” Think: Southwest Airlines, Chick-fil-A, In-N-Out Burger. In Lencioni’s view, “Their employees are passionate and committed and take complete responsibility for their work, consistently turning customers into loyal fans.” How does the time you spend defining your products and services compare to the coaching you provide the people who deliver them?

Share

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!

Share