Tag: Resilience

How is your PR treating you?

It is nearly impossible today to get out of bed and face the day with 100% enthusiasm and conviction. Even on the best days, shit gets in the way. Some days, I absorb it like a sponge, while others I repel it with all my might and let it roll off of my back.

The ebb and flow of that balance requires a conscious persistence or does it?

Is perseverance innate or learned?

an artist s illustration of artificial intelligence ai this image depicts how ai could assist in genomic studies and its applications it was created by artist nidia dias as part of the
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If it is learned, I don’t ever remember it being taught. If it is innate, I have the genetics of perseverant gold embedded in my DNA by the unwavering will of my grandparents and father.

Science will tell you its learned but I choose to believe it is both. When you persevere at a young age, you do without knowing you are so something innate drives that urge to persist despite setbacks and struggles.

With age comes wisdom, critical thinking, and the ability to understand the broader concepts of mindsets, perseverance is clearly developed through a pattern of learned behaviors, observations, experiences, and challenges.

Where does resilience enter the picture?

man standing beside gray door
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Resilience is your friend pounding on the front door trying to wake you out of a dead sleep to get your ass up and moving when all you want to do is pull the covers over your head.

One cannot persevere without resilience.

If we could, our time on this planet would require absolutely no effort. Everything would just happen exactly the way you planned it. Graduate with honors – check, make a million bucks – check, score every opportunity – check, and build the perfectly infallible life – checkmate!

How is your PR treating you?

Resilience enables persistence and creates an energy that endures through the largest of challenges. Without resilience, prevailing is an accident. Like walking on thin ice hoping not to fall through. Resilience doesn’t make the ice thicker, it creates the belief that it is.

cracked frozen water
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Perseverance keeps you taking one trepid step at a time knowing you might fall through at any moment. Resilience leaves you knowing if you do, you have a plan to get out. You might be cold and wet, but you get out and move on.

Just like the ole wise tale of The Tortoise and the Hare. The tortoise prevailed because it persisted in taking one step at a time. As they say, ‘Slow and steady wins the race.’

If you trip and fall do you lay on the ground writhing in agony, or get the hell up and try again?

I am not sure when in my life I understood or could recognize what perseverance and resilience even looked like but reflecting on my experiences, I relied on both very heavily to prevail in my accidental and purposeful endeavors.

How is your PR holding up?

Today, I know definitively with 100% certainty that I would not be where I am without the benefit of both. There are countless times in my life when pulling the covers over my head seemed the only way out, and yet I kept slugging along.

My PR has served me well. It laid the foundation that created opportunities in each of my endeavors and has not let me down.

Not even once.

Perseverance – Finding the Light at the End of the Tunnel

Admittedly, I have been a bit underwhelmed and uninspired of late… a bit ho hum. On the eve of the 364th day of my year, I find myself in some heavy, deep reflection.

Rut Ro.

Isn’t that what birthdays are supposed to do? Pause, reflect, embrace, and saddle up for the coming year.

So here I sit, thinking about the how, the when and the why of my countless experiences. Specifically, the one’s through which I managed to persevere. I don’t remember making a conscious choice to persevere, rather, I embraced the characteristics of one who chose the opposite of conceding defeat.

I chose not to settle in the muck.

serene cypress trees in vibrant green swamp
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There is great discomfort in the swamp, only matched by the discomfort of trudging through it. I guess my underlying hope is/was I will eventually make my way out of it.

The problem is, you don’t know you will come out the other side, until you have arrived on the other side!

I am fortunate to have had worthy examples of such a trek in my life, but as observations rather than teachings. My Hungarian grand parents exemplified the extremely consequential necessity of NOT conceding defeat at levels that make my challenges seem like a walk through the rose garden, merely dodging thorns.

Their unwavering, resilient determination gave me my life. That is a heavy load.

Reflection is a powerful tool and my perspective is rooted in it.

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It is a subjective process that includes a dash of rationalization. I would rather rationalize my way through the swamp than drowned in it. Writing has given me that pause. The time necessary to slow my roll, reflect, process, push on through, and eventually find gratitude in all things past and present.

As I have said many times, I am where I am because of where I have been. The good, the bad and everything in between. Water under the bridge is water under the bridge! I can’t push it back up stream and make it come down differently.

Embrace it and move on!

If that makes a bad thing not so bad, or something I expected, exceptional, I’ll take that every day!

Persevering is the strongest of P’s in my Pod. With a lifetime of experience behind me it’s easy to reflect on its significant impact in my life’s direction and outcomes. The fortitude, determination and will to endure has served me well.

Today’s swamp is in the distance, potentially avoidable if I navigate the appropriate detour. As they say, with age comes wisdom. Having made a life time of mistakes has sharpened my ability to avoid a wrong turn in my future.

Fortunately, my hardships are in the rearview mirror resting neatly amongst the other shiny tools in the back seat. I know there is potential to be neck deep in the swamp, gasping for each breath before I’m sucked in by the muck.

I am hopeful the tools I have employed effectively in the past will encourage balance and harmony and enable peace. And steer me clear of the muck. It is a more difficult equation when I can’t control the outcome of something so I try to focus on the things I can control.

Persevering through difficult circumstances has served me well. That persistence points me in the right direction and invariably leads me right to the light at the end of the tunnel.

There really is no other choice.

8 Significant Lessons I Learned From Screwing Up

Since I learned the best lessons in my life through the mistakes I have made, this list could be seemingly infinite because I have made countless ones. There are several that tripped me up for years before I realized I had the power and ability to make a change in the behavior that was causing me so many issues.

The best description I found was looking through the lens of a victim vs a creator.

As a self-imposed victim, I didn’t necessarily blame others for my struggles, mistakes or failures, rather absolved myself from the equation by not being accountable to my actions. As if, the swamp I found myself in existed outside of my ability to see the mountain I could scale.

I didn’t necessarily mope around mumbling ‘woe is me,’ rather silently felt unworthy of progress which left me insecure and scared about my future or any potential success that awaited. I took small steps in the beginning but when I could feel and see that switching my mindset from living irresponsibly to owning and creating my direction, my life began to change.

This change began somewhere during my college years, as I realized the benefits of my focused work, and hit me smack in the face on the heels of my father’s unexpected death when I was 24 years old.

Death with no notice stops you right in your tracks. It left me reflecting on the things I had done that directly hurt others and inadvertently hurt me.

There was no re-do button.

a person holding a red buzzer
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Not all of my lessons revealed themselves in this exact moment, but it sure as hell sharpened my attention and enabled me to take steps in a positive direction, correcting one mistake at a time.

Here are my 8 teachers.

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Silence is Not Golden

In my youth, I retreated with my emotions and closed up like a clam burrowing in the sand. My mantra, ‘I don’t want to talk about’ when asked about what bothered me, did not serve me well! My father’s death taught me the significance of sharing love, telling people my feelings, speaking my truth, and asking the hard questions in real time, not with hindsight.

Otherwise, I might not get another chance.

Embracing Death Gave Me Life

Understanding and accepting the complexity of relationships and the importance of communication is never clearer than after a loss. The gleam of light in the darkness results from a knowing that life is fleeting, sacred and all encompassing. As M. Scott Peck so eloquently put it, death is my “constant companion, always traveling on my left shoulder.” His words remind me of the the fragility of life and human nature and why I need to live for today and not yesterday.

Otherwise, I might not get another chance.

Resolve, Resilience and Perseverance

This is a 3 for 1, because for me they all surfaced in the same times and places in my life where my greatest struggles thrived. Success only comes after failure by virtue of all 3. It is really difficult to stand up straight again after a gut punch that leaves you breathless, but failure inevitably and repeatedly challenged my resolve, resilience and ability to persevere. As long as I remain focused, they collectively guide me toward the most significant accomplishments in my life.

Otherwise, I might not get another chance.

Accountability

Owning my shit enabled me to feel worthy and move forward without regret.  Being accountable doesn’t absolve me of mistakes or any poor choices that I continue to make, it simply defines my role in the process. Knowing I went down the wrong path makes the presence of its potential in my future much clearer, enabling me to thwart it in its tracks or rectify it before it’s a problem.

Otherwise, I might not get another chance.

Humility and Why the High Road is an Easy Climb

Humility was quite elusive for me, especially in the times in my life when I was ‘this’ or ‘that’ or had something to prove. I stumbled on the comforting feeling once I decided my life would be better lived under the radar. Arguing, complaining, bragging, or being the loudest one in the room gets one a lot of attention for all the wrong reasons. People aren’t paying attention when it’s always in their faces, so I retreat and let my actions speak for my words.

Otherwise, I might not get another chance.

So go out and screw up, take notes and do better next time.

Otherwise, you might not get another chance.

Do You Set Your Mind or Does Your Mind Set You?

During my stint as an adjunct instructor at the local community college, one of the classes on my schedule was Student Development – SD 125. The primary course objective was to help shape attitudes, beliefs and behaviors to enhance self-esteem and self-awareness while building confidence to move forward with a successful college and life plan.

Um, hello! In one semester? It was no small feat.

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For some, this was a required class, for others, it was encouraged by their Student Advisor. There was a consistent theme of personality characteristics that the enrolled students shared.

They were the first in their families to attend college. They were academically and emotionally insecure. They were confined by labels, had been discouraged from achieving and were ready to quit at any moment.

If I didn’t get them onboard quickly, I would lose them, and occasionally, I did.

I told them the hardest part was over by doing everything they had done to be sitting in their chair. I told them they already had an A+ and only stood to lose it. I told them to jump in with both feet. I told them that if they trusted me, we would get there together.

Shaping and changing their mindsets was mission #1.

Mindset – Carol Dweck Ph.D.

Years of conditioning is hard to undo, but it was tantamount for me to understand their setbacks, hardships, hurdles and insecurities to move them forward. I was surprised how publicly vulnerable they could be sharing in class and through their homework.

We talked about the importance of understanding and differentiating between their strengths, weakness, passions, and abilities. And why perseverance, resilience, vulnerability, and grit were essential to an enduring successful outcome.

Fortunately, the text book was full of self-assessment journal assignments which enabled a perspective on how they approached challenges. I filled in the gaps with inspiration from my personal struggles as well as Ted Talks (links follow) from the likes of Brene Brown, Amy Cuddy, Angela Duckworth, and Carol Dweck to name a few.

The biggest hurdles I confronted surrounded empowering them to believe in themselves, shed the labels others had characterized them by, and to put in the hard work. The hard work was not the curriculum per se but rather the focused efforts needed to change their patterns of behavior and mindsets.

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Most often, a huge light went off when they came to realize they were solely in control of their outcomes. Some came to this sooner than others, but their discovery was palpable and often brought me to tears.

When the puzzle pieces came together it was by virtue of their new growth driven mindset. Their body language improved and class participation increased. They embraced the broader application (outside of school) of their new and improved mindset, flying high in the sky among the stars.

During this period in their mindset transformation, it always shocked me how many of their ‘people,’ (parent, significant other, friend or relative) did NOT support or encourage their growth. Not all, but many of the students were overtly rejected, shunned, and even turned away.

Truly sad when someone else’s power resides in their ability to control and hold others back. This ugly scenario reared its head every semester I taught this class. A different student roster, but the same under-my-thumb response.

So, I devoted a class discussion around why some endeavor to hold others back. A devastating reality in our society. I expressed the importance of retaining their power by not conceding to the manipulation of another, even at the cost of the relationship.

Change is difficult for many, most especially for the person who thrives in holding another back. It was critical to surround themselves with people who would set them up for success rather than those that would strip them of their personal growth.

Eleanor Roosevelt said it best, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Catch ya later hater!

Mere months before, they were on the same plane with them but through their focused efforts and hard work, emerged the difference between what was and what could be.

Positively brilliant!

So, do you set your mind or does your mind set you?

Be the goldfish that swims with the swagger of a shark!

Why Strong Women Don’t Need a Golden Lasso or Bionic Arm

When I was a kid, The Bionic Woman and Wonder Woman were the strongest women I knew. Lindsay Wagner was an athletic, coyly sophisticated badass that morphed into an image of power and strength, single handedly (she did only have 1 bionic arm 😊) taking out the bad guy.

While Lynda Carter, a glamourous model who won Miss World USA in 1972, portrayed a Princess from an island in the Bermuda Triangle.  She spun her way into her super powers, deflected bullets with her golden wrist bracelets and subdued her enemies with her golden lasso.

A LOT has changed.

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Strength and power in women today abounds and surrounds us in everyday life. Everyday, everywhere.

Our power is neither artificially implanted nor theatrically elevated. It lives and breathes within us and among us.

Wisdom, age, experience, exposure, education, success, and failure line the halls of our collective super powers. I’m not talking about taking out the bad guy, deflecting bullets, dominance or control. I’m talking about empowerment, encouragement and support.

Like spokes on a wheel, we all need to come together to keep rolling down the road.

My Grandparents – Imre and Maria Kalapos

My grandmother was one such woman. If only I had the capacity to recognize that while she was still alive. She endured 2 world wars, the Nazi’s, Russians, and the Hungarian Revolution before fleeing her country after 57 years.

She and my grandfather left everything behind.

They escaped from the worsening of continued oppressive control. Imagine a scale so out of balance it illuminated a dimly lit path that meant walking away from their lives, spirits, professions, and their material and nonmaterial possessions.

Everything they knew = the cost of freedom. A price so exponentially unimaginable, it is difficult to quantify.

The persevering resilience she exhibited empowers me. Pretty much hard to complain about anything when I think about all she endured and sacrificed to feel and be free. My life exists solely by virtue of her monumental sacrifices.

Takes my breath away every time.

So, I persist, I focus, I move forward, I endure, I give, I try, I speak, I sink, I swim, I float, I jump, I fall, I get back up.

Persevering resilience is my super power. It is time tested. If I persist, I prevail.

Or as Social Psychologist, Amy Cuddy likes to say, “Fake it until you become it.” I have faked my way through many things knowing and believing I will eventually prevail. I will become it. If you haven’t crossed paths with Cuddy’s 2012 Ted Talk on body language, linked above, it is a worthy 20 minutes of your day.

Artistry, insight, knowledge, compassion, connections, endurance, tolerance, inclusion… What is your super power? Your gift?

Do you give it away?

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Whatever super power you have, give it away. Share it often. Empower someone. Help them find the confidence to step into the magic slippers and discover their own super powers.

So many of us need it. We don’t need a golden lasso or bionic arm; we need each other’s strengths.

If you need a super power, look for it. Likely, it is standing right in front of you poised to encourage, enable and empower you.

A big thank you to Julie S. for my writing inspo. Congratulations on ‘becoming it.’ Now it’s time for you to go make some waves!

RIP to the Grandest of Grandmothers:

My Grandparents grave marker. They are buried just outside of Zuirch, Switzerland

Maria Vagho Kalapos 1905 – 1983 Imre Kalapos 1901 – 1985

One Small yet Enormous Problem

May 7, 2024 was a big day for my community with a $15M bond proposal at stake for the local school district, Inland Lakes Schools. In 2022 a similar bond was proposed and failed so the outcome was critical.

In the weeks and days leading up to the vote I read strong opinions on both sides of this proposal; why a leaking roof, inefficient heating or the puddle-pond in the school’s parking lot that attracted the local ducks was a critical issue or not.

Among other concerns, the basis for ‘not’, centered around continued tax payments on an expiring debt as well as standardized test scores that fell below the average for our area.

Picture of Harbor Springs High School by Dianne Johnston

I am a proud 1982 graduate of HSHS – Harbor Springs High School in Harbor Springs, MI. I started in this school system my freshman year. By then, HSHS was the 7th school I attended in my short 14 years of life.

I was an average student but excelled in geography and math. I started kindergarten as a 4 year old and by 3rd grade was held back so I could emotionally and intellectually catch up with my peers.

One of my third grade school pictures

It was pure misery returning to the same school as a 2-time 3rd grader while I watched my classmates move on to 4th grade.

Despite that, I thrived in high school. I spent my young life active and athletic, shooting hoops in the driveway and playing catch in the yard but had never played an organized team sport. My mother encouraged me to try out for everything and I did.

I made the basketball team, ski team and started as a freshman on the varsity softball team playing left field and catcher.

I had a wicked arm.

By my junior year, my coaches and mentors, Nancy Paige, Gary Bob Morse, Bill Shepler Sr., Bill Grant, and Mike Davies voted me the Female All School Athlete. An award I received again my senior year. Their collective impact far exceeds our brief time together.

I was on top of the world and never prouder.

The safe, disciplined and regimented environment rolled into my academic life, and I THRIVED. I loved school and my grades reflected that.

There was one small yet enormous problem. The No. 2 pencil.

The No. 2 pencil meant a standardized test and I was a horrible test taker.

The distractions that put me through 3rd grade twice found their way to the tip of the pencil. When I heard the words ‘be sure to bring a No. 2 pencil to class tomorrow’ I panicked.

The dots melded together on the page, and I always floundered.

When it was time for the ACT college entrance exam, my pathway to higher education, the No.2 pencil single handedly knocked my feet out from under me.

Not only did we need to bring a No. 2 pencil, we needed TWO because they didn’t want us to get up from our seats to sharpen one if the led broke. The smarty pants in my class brought a pencil folder full of them.

UGH!

When the proctor announced there was only 30 minutes left of test time, I still had over a third of my test to finish. In a move of desperation, I began randomly filling in dots. Dot after dot so I could submit a completed test hoping a guessed answer was better than none.

As you might suspect, my score was pitiful and ultimately an encumberment that got in the way of my college selection. The score alone cost me admission to the state universities who denied my applications, even with a letter of recommendation from my coaches.

My Senior Picture

Fortunately, with a creative and supportive guidance counselor, Mr. Charles Dickinson in my corner, my 7th semester grades and my high school GPA got me over the hurdle. We found a small college where I successfully enrolled.

I fully understand the broader purpose of standardized tests, but they overlook people like me. If bond proposals are to be considered for schools, they are detrimental beyond the scope of such tests.

If schools can’t grow and innovate with the times, we risk stifling the potential and the future of our youth by attracting more ducks to the pond in the parking lot. I am where I am today with and through the struggles and successes of all my school years, including 2 as a 3rd grader.

High school was the last time I said, “I can’t.”

It was the place where I learned discipline and commitment.

Despite the No. 2 pencil, it enabled me to begin to believe I could do anything I set my mind to.

If not for those formidable foundational roots and the teachers, coaches and mentors that guided me, my life and its successes would not be what they are today or have been in my past.

My current ‘senior’ picture

Next time you are confronted with a bond proposal for your local schools, don’t let the No. 2 pencil get in your way of supporting it. Think of all the students like me that will benefit and thrive.

The ILS 2024 Bond Proposal passed.

Scaling Mountains… Can You do Anything You Set Your Mind to?

In my early life, believing I could do anything I set my mind to, was akin to understanding a foreign language. No hablo ingles! Not only was I incapable of conceptualizing that, I was disconnected from the idea that my life and its future was within reach or within my control.

As a young High Schooler, I had a strong overwhelming sense of my imminent and immediate demise. My death anxiety did not hover over me like a cloud, rather, it loomed and lingered around my excitement.

In anticipation of life’s great accomplishments, getting my driver’s license, graduating from high school or going to college I faced a real and legitimate fear of death. I couldn’t visualize my death or the potential action which may cause it, I just knew I would die before I could relish in the pride of my accomplishment.

Those thoughts did not have a voice but thrived in silence.

Truly believing I could do anything I set my mind to took years to develop. It required a fervent conviction that surfaced only after seemingly endless tribulations I believed were out of my control and left me at the starting gate long after the race had begun.

Photo by Andrey Grushnikov on Pexels.com

There are several notable steps that reframed my perspective and changed my attitude. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see them coming when they arrived, but I undoubtedly found them after they left thanks to my lifelong friend Hindsight.

Surprisingly negligible and simple, I slowly started accomplishing things I feared I couldn’t and began collecting small successes. This pattern of accomplishment enabled room for confidence and pride while illuminating what I did to get there.

The small successes showed me what confidence felt and looked like in a time in my life when I didn’t even know what it was.

It’s impossible to teach someone how to be confident and proud, they are both innately inherent components of the process of success and accomplishment. Feelings, outcomes and results. We do because we are.

That’s why we feel shitty when we fail. It sucks! Even if failing eventually enables success, the feeling in the moment is deflating and defeating.

Fortunately, despite my self-imposed angst, I eventually started to believe in myself. The shift in mindset highlighted the connection between positive efforts and actions with positive results and outcomes and laid the foundation for future accomplishments.

It single handedly extinguished my premature and unwarranted fear of dying.

Again and again and again in my life, this pattern of thought has delivered everything I set my mind to. I knew if I didn’t quit or give up, I would get there. Forward, backward, up, down, straight or winding, it didn’t matter.

With persistence the result was delivered as ordered.

The power of believing I can do anything I set my mind to created the limitless belief exemplified by the resilience and perseverance my Hungarian grandparents so humbly illustrated. They had so much more on the line than I ever have or will ever dream to have. I won’t let them down.

Every day I strive to reach higher than I did the day before even if what I want is beyond my grasp. If I don’t, how can I do better tomorrow than I did today? Believing I can do anything I set my mind to supports endless possibilities and endless outcomes.

There is no other way to live.

Breaking Bread with Dead People

When you think of the commonalities you share with another person, what comes to mind? Most likely, things like interests, hobbies and passions.

Can we bridge the gap in areas of emotional distress? Why can’t we talk about death or tragedy without people feeling sorry for us or reluctant to welcome a difficult conversation?

Common tragedies bring people together from a sense of knowing. Compassion, empathy and patience are automatic.

The more we talk, the more we gather, the more we grow.

I would be remiss without referencing the inspirational, M. Scott Peck’s poignant words from The Road Less Traveled,  “…we must live with the knowledge that death is our constant companion traveling on our left shoulder.” Important words for the future whether you have lived through a significant death or not.

I originally wrote this in the summer of 2021 after lunch with two former high school classmates. I was so troubled and moved by their shared tragedy, I went home to write this for them.

Sadly, in the time since that day, there are other friends who, tragically and with great despair, have reluctantly joined the club.

This is for anyone who has lost a child.

I recently shared a meal with some high school mates among whom time and distance has put a few decades of space between. Life happens and so does death. How did we move from the bleachers of our high school gym to a table in a restaurant discussing the death of each of their sons?

Catching up on our years since takes a vastly different direction when one has lost a child. I only know this from afar because not only have I never lost a child, I do not have one to lose. In the reminiscent realm of these gatherings, ‘yea, me too’ is not something one might consider hoping to share.

I do know death intimately, though. We are old acquaintances. I have felt the air sucking deflation of every ounce of purpose and faith.  When I met death, disguised as hope and a glimmering light, it felt like falling off a cliff waiting for the bone crushing end that continued in perpetuity.

A bone crushing crash that never ends. Yes, can you imagine?

This is a path where second guessing intersects why me. A winding path full of questions that offer no answers and ends in a place where the entrance to the club requires a secret handshake.

They know the nature of fragility. They met at a dead end road.

They remain in turmoil while they stumble towards peace. They seem to rationalize the absence but not the loss.

How does one even reconcile the loss of a child?

How does one not say, ‘God should have taken me?’

They have asked those questions but find no answers. They choose to live despite them. They know time fleets, wanes and is a gift wrapped in a constantly unraveling bow. 

As an empathetic spectator, it moved me to witness the grace with which they each shared their grief and pain, and ultimate compassion for the other’s loss. A sense of knowing that doesn’t emerge until you walk in another’s shoes.

Interestingly, they both attended the Catholic elementary school together but admittedly struggled finding solace in their faith. I imagine a loss so great cannot be reconciled in any form intended to comfort.

It is there that we break bread with dead people. Where shared tragedy bridges decades long gaps instantly exchanging what truly matters, for what truly does not. Tomorrow isn’t what it will be without yesterday. Forward our only choice.

My old acquaintance taught me this, and apparently, it taught my friends the same.

Perhaps, this club is not for everyone. It requires great strength, resilience and fortitude to enter and stay, but true unwavering perseverance to leave, to seek and find peace, to hope and breathe again, and ultimately, to find the parachute’s cord before the bone crushing end.

If you know someone who has lost a child, meet them at the dead end road. Welcome a difficult conversation. Check in, be present, listen and support.

If you are the surviving parent, keep them close. Live within, through and beyond their absence and loss, ‘always traveling on your left shoulder.’

Peace and love for a memorable, reflective and joyous Thanksgiving to all.

The Last Time I Said I Can’t

At what age do we really start thinking for ourselves, making plans, setting goals and believing those outcomes are ours to achieve? If it is as simple as shifting our mindset, when and how do we know to do so?

My Hungarian father and his parents’ sacrifices cast a brilliant light on what resilient and perseverance meant and the tenacity with which they approached survival and hope for a new day. They were worthy examples but as an adolescent how could I associate the direction I needed to take with that of people who left their lives behind for freedom.

Through their example, I grew to see my life as limitless. It was simultaneously encouraged by my parents, but how and when could I put it into action?

Reflecting on that now, to pinpoint a pivotal moment in time when the light went on, it was my senior year of high school on the basketball court.

Something changed, forever.

My coach towered over my 5’9” lanky body and persisted in challenging me to a close jump shot through her outstretched arms. With absolutely no effort, she repeatedly swatted my shot away before it had any hope of success.

“Again,” she commanded, as my teammates watched, grateful not to be standing in my shoes while I continued to struggle.

“Again!”

After the fifth or sixth time, I muttered “I can’t.”

“What did you say?” She was as shocked by my response as I was by the tone of her question.

Gulp, “I can’t.”

Her next words changed my life.

“Don’t you ever say I can’t,” she screamed as she slammed the ball down on the court, promptly spun on her heels and returned to the locker room. Practice over.

Naturally, she was pushing me to think outside the box and do something differently to enable my success, but I threw in the towel and just gave up. I quit.

I can still feel that feeling today. My humiliation was overshadowed by an inordinate sense that I needed to shift my mindset. Verbalizing my negative thoughts allowed me to quit, give up and stop trying.

One of many quotes from Eleanor Roosevelt that I love; “Nothing has ever been achieved by the person who says, ‘It can’t be done.’”

Think about it. Believing you can’t is a cop out, a way to avert failure, an excuse that enables quitters. It’s Superman’s kryptonite.

Combining ‘I can’t’ with any hope of accomplishing something we set our minds to are opposing forces. The up and down of the seesaw has no prospect of finding balance in the middle. I knew in that moment; I could talk myself into something just as easily as I could talk myself out of it.

It became a forever mindset granting me the time and space to believe in myself, to push beyond where comfort lived and to color outside the lines. With time and maturity, it developed my critical thinking skills and furthered my confidence and pride. Attributes that were earned and not given.

After that day, I knew the sky was the limit and my life was mine to live. Sink or swim, I had control. That afternoon on the basketball court was the last time I said or believed, “I can’t.”

Thank you, Coach Nancy Paige.

Frank and Bill – The Tale of Two Fathers

If you have been a young child of divorce, you know the agonizing feeling of loss buried deeply under glimmering hope, wishful thinking and a blatant aversion to reality. Pretending, escaping and willing it away with every breath, longing for the return to normalcy are efforts in futility.

If you have been a young child of divorce lucky enough to be blessed with a second father, then you know the peace and joy that can emerge out such a devastating scenario. I am grateful that one of the most unfortunate situations in my young life grew to be one of the most fortunate.

As I say in nearly every post, I am where I am because of where I have been. As such and without doubt, my two fathers have been the most influential men in my life, albeit through vastly different examples.

Frank was a non-conformist Hungarian refugee who colored outside of the lines in every aspect of his life. He was sophisticated, worldly, cultured, artistic, philosophical, conversational, passionate, carefree, and wounded. He loved the Mamas and the Papas and Picasso, the Pacific Ocean and sailing.

He lived a minimalist laissez-faire life and believed rules were meant to be eradicated.

Frank was into vinyl records.

Bill was an Irish Catholic career military pilot who, before becoming a corporate pilot, retired after 28 years of service as a Lieutenant Colonel. He was disciplined, focused, strict, organized, loyal, humble, stoic, and soft spoken. He loved flying planes, fishing, skiing and tinkering in the garage or yard.

He believed rules were meant to be followed.

Bill was into encyclopedias.

By virtue of their differences, I am the best part of both. Frank, through his influence and struggles taught me resilience, perseverance and compassion. How to be aware and mindful, how to overcome adversity, what inclusion looks like and why it matters. We share the same passions for music, art, the ocean and sailing.

Bill, through his regimented influence and example taught me discipline, order, organization, humility, and loyalty. His favorite saying… ‘it’s water under the bridge,’ through which I learned not to hold a grudge, or wallow in things I couldn’t control. After hearing it so much, it got me thinking why I couldn’t push it back up stream to make it come down differently, something I reference to this day. I ski because of him. I teach skiing to others because of him.

I have five step brothers and sisters, nieces, nephews, and a vast extended family I would not know and love otherwise.

These traits were realized through time and maturity. In fact, many took years, even decades, for me to recognize and embrace. Like a diamond in the rough, time fortified the inherent truths of my traits and the source of such wisdom. With hindsight and reflection, I see that now. The tale of two fathers, their influence and infinite presence always traveling on my left shoulder!

RIP Frank E. Kalapos – February 12, 1935 – November 10, 1988

RIP Lt. Colonel, William J. McElroy III – September 5, 1927 – June 7, 2022

Forever in my heart and on my left shoulder!