“Boys, life ain’t all lollipops and roller coasters,” — my high school basketball coach, after a grueling practice, and his own bout with indigestion.
I distinctly remember him downing an entire bottle of Pepto Bismol in that same day.
Is that even safe?
EPIC.
Comedian/speaker Mark Lowry once said, “We don’t help people by showing them our trophies. We help them by showing them our scars.”
This can be an aid to those of us on social media. Let those words marinate with you today. Think about the page posts, tweets, and messages we send out. Our best profile pictures to our lowest moments behind closed doors.
If we put trophies aside and share our ugliest selves, it can help someone else who is hurting.
Skeletons in the closet can (and should) come out.
What’s your FAVORITE quote of ALL-TIME?
Tall order to come up with that one, I know.
But, think about it…
…
….
Still thinking? That’s OK.
FAVORITE is tough to process. There are so many!
So many wise people saying wise things over the course of humanity that it’s hard to pick just one.
Maybe one didn’t jump out at you.
If you’re like me, it’s so easy to jump right into a Bible verse. Maybe Solomon or someone like King David jumps out at you? Of course there’s wisdom there…(I mean, c’mon, one of Solomon’s books was named ‘Proverbs’)… and it isn’t really fair to call Psalms unwise.
But, maybe for you a favorite quote is some bit of advice a family member told you. Something your best friend said in high school once. Now the wheels are turning!
Favorite movie quote. Favorite book quote. Favorite author. Favorite unwise quote. Regardless of what you land on, it’s still difficult to let that quote be your FAVORITE of ALL-TIME isn’t it?
Why?
Because it encapsulates all of YOU…or, it feels like it does when you share with others that it’s your most beloved, cherished, irresistible tidbit of knowledge ever bestowed upon you by someone else. Right?
So again think about it…not plural. Single. FAVORITE. ALL-TIME.
Got one in mind?
(Hey, I’m with you. This is tough for some.) It might take you an entire lifetime to land on one quote, verse, ounce of wisdom that hits you at your core like none other.
We have so many favorites we don’t know how to pick just 1. I love literature obviously. And as I read more works, I discover new phrases and revelations along the way. This path called life keeps offering new discoveries.
You hopefully have that FAVORITE. It’s OK to have more than 1. I do. But, within the realm of literature, I’ve found one of my favorites of ALL-TIME within one of my FAVORITE books of ALL-TIME: Moby Dick.
The quote goes…
“…and Heaven have mercy on us all – Presbyterians and Pagans alike – for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending.”
Melville wrote it, and I always smile when I read it. There’s wisdom, humor, & universality to it. It is a quote that I get, and it gets me. Such a great book. It’s filled with life-lessons and adventure. It’s a book that I love reading.
Like literature, FAVORITE(S) can come from anywhere. FAVORITE song lyric. FAVORITE expression from a celebrity. Steve Martin once said, “A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.” Maybe that fits into a FAVORITE category for you.
Regardless, it’s safe to say life is too short to not have some FAVORITE somethings.
One final time: What’s YOURS?
Any sports fans out there?
How about NCAA college hoops fans?
Do you enjoy the spectacle that is NCAA bracketology?
Yesterday was ‘Selection Sunday,’ and I love that the bracket list of teams has grown even larger. (It’s now at 68 teams!)
Before we know it, March Madness will seriously take the entire months of March, April, and May to complete. Smiley face from this guy, if that happens!
And like every die-hard basketball fan, I printed my bracket this fine, Monday morning. Selection Sunday yields Bracket MONDAY!
Now what?
The picks of course.
If you’re reading this and thinking, Brian has gone off the deep end. You’re probably not alone in your thinking. But hear me out.
Imagine a month every year where maybe it’s your favorite movies of all-time are being re-played in a theater near you. Could you imagine getting to see Terminator 2 played in IMAX? What about watching T2 and then Weekend at Bernie’s back-to-back? Or, pretend you’re given backstage passes for all of Bonnaroo music festival and your favorite bands are requesting your presence.
Wouldn’t that make your 2015 more entertaining? More memorable like the 4th of July, vacation, and your birthday all rolled into one?
Except get this…the outcomes are unknown until the final buzzer!
This is what takes it to the next level. We don’t know if a #1 seed will get past an #8 or even a #16. UPSETS are sometimes a GOOD thing. (I know this is contrary to everyday thinking and really doesn’t work anywhere else.)
But, to contrast it again with a string of your favorite movies being replayed in theaters or given Bonnaroo passes. Imagine the movie theater owner telling you that you get to rewrite the endings of the classics (scary thought, huh?). Or, the Bonnaroo manager saying, “You play the tambourine? Great. Get on-stage and open for Cage the Elephant. Or, better yet, how about you just stay up there and play alongside them. See what happens.”
These might be SLIGHT exaggerations to my initial point. But let me just repeat this: MARCH is fun now.
[And not just mediocre fun like eating at a pizza buffet or walking a dog around your neighborhood.]
Think bigger.
Even if you don’t enjoy the game of basketball, I encourage you to fill out a bracket this year…today. Pick Teams. Even if you do it based on their names alone. This one sounds funny. This one doesn’t. What’s a Villanova? Is that an ice cream flavor? Where in the world is Hampton? All good questions. Use them in YOUR process.
It seems that the best way to describe this time of year is the word– user-friendly.
You get to pick the rounds, consider the spread, and watch 1 game (or, 8 games if you’re capable) at any given time.
Enjoy them from the comfort of your favorite chair or take a trip to one of the tournament regions, cheer on the team that’s name sounds like an ice cream flavor.
It’s your only chance before April (a time when many will go one to the professional level and the NBA [lowers voice a few octaves]).
The NBA is okay. The NCAA is what makes an otherwise dreary time of the year (at least for the mid-west, mid-south, mid-north, and northeast US) bearable and then some.
ENJOY!
Met a guy at a conference recently.
Very nice gentleman.
Even offered to help me find some writing accountability.
In our conversation, we discussed all kinds of writerly things including print (and ebook) options.
At the end of the conversation, he gave me his contact information, and I offered my card.
(Of course, I had to cross out old email addresses/blog sites/etc., because I’m so bad with technology that I can’t quite keep up, it seems.)
He was patient, and when I offered to give him a copy of a book, he politely, and it was the nicest rejection I’d ever received, said, “Ebooks only, for me.”
I quit searching for the PAPER copy in my backpack.
Brought my hand out of the backpack and shook his. Muttered something like, “Just ebooks?”
He smiled and nodded. Informed me that it was keeping him clutter free, and his wife was appreciative.
Ebooks are all the rage, it seems.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I LOVE paper copies. The smell. Being able to hold them outside. Take them camping and not having to worry about an electric outlet or battery life. But…
his smile revealed something new to me.
He was enjoying a life less cluttered.
And…maybe that’s what it’s all about these days of “Run and gun” style of living.
There’s little time to breathe.
—
My wife and I just moved apartments this weekend. We are getting settled and the endless copies of books are invading our space AGAIN. Maybe I’ll take his advice to a certain degree (keep some of the paper). But, I agree with his attitude. He was freeing up a lot of space and still reading what he wanted/when he wanted.
Shameless plug: (Final Day of my ebook being FREE is today: http://www.amazon.com/BAPTISMS-DOGS-Stories-B-Tucker-ebook/dp/B00LAFKRBQ/ref=sr_1_1_twi_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1426443237&sr=1-1&keywords=baptisms+%26+dogs) I’m grateful to the many people that have taken a risk and read this book. I know it’s different to what you usually might pick up at a store. Plus, they’re short stories. But, thank you so much for being there for this first effort. It’s done better than I could’ve ever imagined.
Like my ebook, maybe I will continue to seek out copies on Kindle. But, let me tell you it has been so difficult to part with the REAL thing. (It’s difficult to take a dog-eared copy of a Kindle ebook into a pool where cannonballs are being offered by small children, without losing the entire device to H20. But I will try and try again.)
We all know eHarmony from the commercials.
The friendly, white-haired gent, Dr. Neil Clark Warren, founded what is boasted to be the “#1 trusted online dating site for singles.”
Have you been there?
No. I’m not encouraging online dating to any one person. And, it’s not that I see anything wrong with you wanting happiness.
My experience with eHarmony was actually a GOOD one, albeit humorous, as only things can be for my unusually awkward self.
Let me take you to 2004!
Yes. The year I left the college where I’d started with my buddies, and transferred to a new, bigger (scarier in size) school. (See, Dog Days of Summer)
I met some awesome new roommates in, Thomas, Obbie, and Mitch. But…
I was extreme.
In everything.
I felt the need to work out 3x more than the average college student, ate 2x as much as my peers, and tried to be involved in every on-campus organization that first year at UK.
To take this a step further, I also had to be looking for a girlfriend 14x more frequently than any of my new buddies. (They can attest to this.)
I looked East, West, and the other 2 directions on-campus. My wife thinks I’m still extreme, but this category is one that I pursued the most in Lexington.
So, that leads us to this story of how I found eHarmony and trusted it to lead me to Miss Right. (Remember, this was also the first year of something called ‘Facebook,’ and Kentucky was one of the frontrunners in connecting to other schools. I used it and saw the potential to hunt for the lady of my dreams, but it still wasn’t as well-known as Dr. Warren’s site.
Yep. I was all of 19 years old (maybe 20) and had already given up on meeting someone on my new college campus. I remember Thomas asking, “What are you doing? You can’t give up yet! You just got here.”
And, I shook my head and said something to the effect, “No. This is my only chance.”
Of course, these were friends, and even though they had every right to think He’s crazy! they stuck by me and…
watched me fill out all “29 dimensions” of the trusted site.
eHarmony was cool, I remember, because they asked a lot of great questions about upbringing, religious beliefs, and favorite hobbies. I thought, They can’t be all bad like some of the other sites, because they want to know all about me.
And they did. That application took all of 1 day of not going to class or studying for the classes around that day. (The guys checked in on me periodically throughout the day to make sure I was still breathing.)
29 dimensions, all skeletons out of the closet, and 1 day of college life later I pushed the ‘SUBMIT’ button and awaited Dr. Warren’s reply.
…
The answer came back quickly. The auto-response after I’d submitted it the day before and said the eHarmony staff would be responding with my results (or matches) soon. So, I bit my nails and couldn’t sleep the night between. I recall eating a DiGiorno’s frozen pizza somewhere in-between.
Thomas watched me check my email on that uber-slow Toshiba Satellite. It hummed to life, and I clicked on my Hotmail account. There was a new message from the eHarmony miracle workers.
It said…
Something something something.
And, I remember thinking: How kind of them to send this thorough response! And it WAS both thorough and kind.
I remember getting through the preliminary fluff and really appreciating their promptness and sensitivity in sharing what they said at the letter’s conclusion, which read, in my own paraphrasing:
Mr. Tucker,
Your age and answering of certain questions led us to the analysis that you’d be best-suited for continuing to pursue your future companion and to not give up on finding them at this time. Thank you!
This is of course a paraphrase, but it REALLY made me laugh. Their honesty was terrific, and I was able to meet my wife, about 3 years later, but the RESPONSE of this survey was shocking to me at the time. They essentially said what my roommates had said as well. Except with a technical approach and some surveying included. Yet, I’m still so thankful for the result, which really helped me to get OUT of the dorm room those next so many years. THE lady was still out there, and I learned to not give up (or get dismayed) so easily. I definitely learned that Facebook (or whatever else that came after MySpace) wasn’t the ANSWER for interacting and wooing someone.
Hallelujah and then some!
The fine people alongside Dr. Neil Clark Warren were there at just the right time. Now, I am SLIGHTLY less neurotic than I was at the outset of college.
I have an obsession with hats.
See Figure 1 below for proper em-phasis (on the right syl-lable).
Call it temporary, and I’ll show you a progression. This is compliments of Facebook and its record-keeping self. (Scary, I know.)
2004: (80s party)
2005: (Halloween shindig with JT and Adam at Campbellsville University)
2006: (Residence life at UK and Burger King at 2, 3, or 4 am)
and 
2007: (Pool table at Casa de Silvers)
2008: (Honeymoon on the open seas and dry land and Illinois with the Mrs.)
and 
and 
2009: (Halloween in Monticello at the Pyles’ residence)
2010: (Mexico and Ohio)
and 
2011: (Mexico again)
2012: (Gun range with sister-in-law and Florida and Kentucky)
and 
and 
2013 – Present:
Is, of course, still being written. The lesson learned from the above images?
I have entirely too many hats and…have worn them all to the best of my ability.
I’d like to thank Facebook for this field study in accessorizing. (Maybe the first one ever completed via social media.)
It has helped me learn 2 very important lessons:
1.) All hats are not created equal
2.) There’s a right time and a wrong time to wear a straw hat. There’s NEVER a wrong time to break out the Viking helmet. EVER.
*The Viking helmet shown above was worn during the Writer’s Residency in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. However, it was also a helmet worn during the cruise of January 2009 and was a great conversation starter.
**The golfer hat above was worn during New Year’s celebrations with friends in Lexington, KY.
Do you have a hat that you wear almost every day of the week? What makes this the “go-to” hat?
I know I write this with light-heartedness and humor, but I really do look back fondly on all of these silly excursions and appreciate the times shared with good friends.
May you find any (and all) opportunities possible in 2015 to be yourself and celebrate the “less formal” arenas of your life.
God bless!
That same summer–which brought me NYC and Brazil mission-mindedness–was the one where I went to college.
Campbellsville University. (Enrollment in 2003, 1777 students)
The name had recently changed from Campbellsville College to University…signifying as it does for all colleges…that it had hit its stride. The label “university” was a Welcome to the Promised Land sign. (Since that day/time, it has doubled in size as a university.)
So me, Adam, and JT arrive in Taylor County, Kentucky. The 3 amigos hit the ground of post-secondary education running. We felt that life would never be the same after moving out of our hometown.
Gone were the stigmas (and embarrassments) of high school hazing days. Before us, were the Spring Breaks, Education Abroad, and Dean’s List opportunities.
Oh how I love anticipation of things that are new!
See, I entered Campbellsville University (CU) possessing a scholarship that mirrored Adam & JT’s. We were indeed triplets.
But, where my academic route varied from theirs was my inability to choose a major. College is keen on a 4-year plan. Right?
Motto: Don’t switch majors more than once. I’ve not shared this publicly before, but the pressures to pick something out (and FAST) were overwhelming for me. So what I did next reflected nicely on my academic profile: I majored Pre-Med.
Yep. Nothing says I don’t know what the heck I want to do with my life like declaring Medicine (and 8-12 years of schooling) like majoring in something that specific. Ironically, JT really did major in Pre-Med alongside me, and he completed his studies in 2012. I’m proud of him. Similarly, Adam majored in Music and still teaches percussion present day.
I was an atypical college student.
My scholarship was in jeopardy due to my Calculus, Biology ensemble that Fall 2003 semester, and I discovered my only enjoyable courses were English and social sciences.
Gone were the dreams to pursue “Renaissance Man” interests that high school had afforded. Be good at everything! was a phrase no one was using anymore, it seemed. Ben Franklin did it. But, he’s no longer living. My grades suffered due to lack of interest and the accelerated curriculum each week that term.
Mid-terms happened. Grades very bad (Cookie monster voice).
My scholarship looked to be in jeopardy. I longed for Brazil and the miracles we had seen down there. We were attending a Christian school, and I longed to be elsewhere, because I didn’t feel connected to the real world. Ironic?
Pre-Med. was Pre-destined to Fail.
So…guess what I did following those Dog Days of Summer?
In the Fall 2003, I applied to transfer to UK. (No. Not the United Kingdom…even though I have ancestral connection to that region of the world.) No. I applied to the University of Kentucky and was accepted at the mid-point of my Freshmen year.
Why would I leave my 2 best friends, a full ride, and a 1,777-person campus?
It wasn’t easy.
Just like playing “Me, Myself, and Irene” to a large crowd of peers I respected (see Playing Possum) and seeing a panoramic of me signing an autograph at the least opportune time in Brazil (see Mission-Minded…Eventually), my decision to leave what I knew and pursue a not-payed for, undeclared major, at a school larger than most Kentucky cities, with no clue where anything was at geographically was tough to put it mildly.
I didn’t know what I was doing. Beyond the fact that I was pursuing a new start at a largely secular school and leaving behind a strong godly campus where the slogan was, I kid you not: Find your Calling! I tell others that I did, but I did it elsewhere. And, I don’t say it facetiously either. I mean it. The decision to transfer was God helping me discover my path…and it didn’t happen where I thought it would…and that’s okay. Even though, I hated leaving behind what I knew to pursue it.
Mom was patient. She saw me return home 15 of the 16 weekends that semester. She knew the scholarship wouldn’t transfer. I was going from private-paid to public-owed overnight. Still, she supported and said, “I want what’s best, Brian, and I know the cost will be worth it.”
Fast-forward now to today, I see the purpose more now than I used to. (I no longer roam the dorm hallways with an aerosol can spraying peoples’ wardrobes, crumbling muffin crumbs in JT’s bed when he wasn’t looking, or, wrestling with ghost stories about people being shot in our old, spooky residence hall…I try not to anyways.)
Instead, I can see the transfer as one of the most difficult (and rewarding) decisions of my life.
Did I figure everything out overnight? No.
Did I pick a major and stick with it? No again. I think I had 6 total from start to finish and ended up double-majoring.
Did I have it as easy as before the transfer? You see where this is going.
Paying for it out-of-pocket and moving into a world where I didn’t know my freshman roommate’s name was terrifying. (I still remember Police tape saying “Do not Cross Line” stretching across the room that would become my first at UK.) But, I learned A LOT about perseverance and myself 2004-present.
I met my future wife in the dorms. My brother helped me mature during those remaining college years. And, I met a lot of great people along the way. Summer 2003 was crazy and Fall even crazier. But, I wouldn’t change any of the outlandishness at all. The headache came and went. So did Calculus and Pre-Med. and zip codes and DiGiorno microwavable pizzas.
Was your educational path like mine? Daunting.
Now, I look forward to 2015 with its twists and turns. God provides steps, and sometimes I see them and sometimes I go off-course and wade through the muck. Sometimes the muck helps me appreciate the steps even more.
Hey Readers! Baptisms & Dogs: Stories is FREE for 4 days only on Kindle (and Kindle phone reading apps) starting NOW (3/11–Sunday 3/15)!! Be sure to add it to your device, if you haven’t already and enjoy. All that’s asked in return…a review if you have the time on Amazon. Happy Wednesday people! Click link to see/add book below:
AUDIObook coming soon!! (It’s in the final mixing stages.)
Not but a few weeks after that “Me, Myself, and Irene” experience in the summer of 2003 (see, Playing Possum), I had the chance of a lifetime…
To go to Brazil!
Imperatriz, Brazil. Population 250,000, and the second largest city in the Maranhao state. Its hottest and coldest months both occurring during what are our summer months here in the States. It was a truly tropical experience complete with Amazonian rainforests, cave iguanas, and a few pythons along the way. (I still can’t believe that tour guide didn’t tell us about one he saw, while Allison was injured. She definitely would’ve been the weakest link had things gone awry.)
Anyways…this was more than just a luxury trip.
It was a trip with a purpose. No one on the team had taken it lightly. Its duration was 2 weeks from beginning to mid-August, and most importantly, it was a mission trip. (I’d even been blessed enough to have someone support my costs for the trip and pay my way for it!) So, there was great focus within our team going into Imperatriz with willing hearts.
—
We arrived in Brazil, and it was hot! But, hot in a good way. Have you ever experienced a good heat? I know. I usually hate hot temperatures, too. But, I can safely say this was the first (and only) time in my life where the temps climbed well above 90-100 F, and the sun baked a person rather than microwaved them. There was coconut milk served directly from coconut vendors and plastic straws poking from the tops of them.
There were tarantulas just chilling on the park lawns where couples looked longingly into one another’s eyes unconcerned. (I was educated that big spiders to us were just babies to Brazilians and harmless if left unbothered.)
Then, we met the people. The Brazilian people were the BEST! I can say that, because I grew up with some of the nicest folks in the entire US in southern KY, and I’m being honest. (No offense Mom!)
Brazilians were happy about everything. As a culture, they hugged. You couldn’t be introduced to someone new without expecting open arms to receive you. It was something we all (even the most reserved of us…even though most of us were pretty outgoing) grew accustomed to by the trip’s end.
We returned hugs, laughter, and smiles. The Imperatriz village– where we had revival–accepted us every night for testimonies and sharing our life stories. It was a tremendous blessing. (Remember, I had just survived NYC, the VHS incident with my old Coach, and my letting one of my mentor’s down, see Playing Possum).
Then, my antics returned. I lost my head.
Maybe it was the 100-degree heat, or, JT waking me up with his humming in the middle of the nights in our hotel. Maybe it was the authentic Passion Fruit juice that we all drank before heading out into the villages each morning without knowing it was, in fact, a sedative. (That would explain the concerned looks that the locals gave us at breakfast time each morning when we drank it by the gallons.) Maybe it was the beans and rice, although I highly doubt it. I loved all of it: Brazil. Even the steakhouses. Especially the steakhouses!
But, no, it wouldn’t be something that objective.
It was simply my ego.
Do you have one of those?
Sure you do. And I know it’s not always as weird as the Freudian label it wears. Plain and simple…it’s one’s self, one’s awareness of self and its comparison to others.
Well, I thought I was doing fairly well with my self/ego/what-have-you, when I discovered that the Brazilian’s altruism and compassion seemed to be unending.
As others would return from the villages and share the updates of their talks with families and bonding and witnessing, I would keep hearing locals talk about how similarly me and another in the group resembled the locals’ favorite US pop artists at the time. (It is important to state that Brazilians loved US pop music of the 80s and early 90s variety, and it was still basically current to them in 2003.) And, a large part of our mission held singing and skit components, and I vividly remember us walking back to the tour bus…like the Beatles or something and kids shouting at us through the bus windows.
They yelled things at Jennifer in our group, and we finally understood they were chanting “Amy Grant! Amy Grant!”
to her.
They pointed at me, and again, the ego took hold of me. Unlike Jennifer, I didn’t quite resist the urge to wave and remain on the bus. (That would’ve been too sensible, remember?) So, I listened to their chants and I heard, “Justin! Justin Timberlake!”
Without knowing what I was doing, I was back off the bus and waving like an ignoramus at the kind, affectionate crowd.
I still remember our preacher’s soft, reaffirming word in my ear, as we re-boarded the bus that day, “Brian. Remember why we’re here. OK?”
I heard him. I mean, genuinely, I did. But, I couldn’t turn down the fans. Right? I was too naive (no, immature fits better). Even later in the week, while Jennifer took the high road, I kept on pursuing my fame and not-so-much fortune. I answered to their calls of “Justin!” and even sang a few NSync songs for the kids.
Disgusting, I know.
The real clincher in this whole charade. Worse than the pretending to be a celebrity, egging it on, and not following Jennifer’s lead the first 15 times was the final reminder.
We’ll call it an eternal one for added emphasis.
We arrived back in the States. Pictures were developed. Oh, don’t you love how pictures can truly encompass where we were (good or bad) at any given moment in time? Pictures were developed using a very cool, modern option called 1-hour photo. Remember that?
And what do I find but a picture of my buddy, our preacher, and me all smiling. Then, I see that it’s been developed using an even cooler feature of 2003, the panoramic photo feature. So, off to the side of JT, a boy he’d just led to Christ, and Coy, you see me. –> A goofy sticker stuck (for some reason to my face), a big cheesy grin, and an ink pen in my hand.
What am I doing you ask?
Signing an autograph.
On our mission trip.
Where countless decisions were made inside those 2 weeks that were life-altering for friends in Imperatriz and JT took this picture as a memory. And you have me putting my John Hancock on a card to a small boy who undoubtedly thought I sang “Bye, Bye, Bye” for a living.
—
I look back on this knowing that JT and I have laughed about this picture 100s of times. Not because it’s something that should be encouraged, but because of how much we (and yes, I) didn’t know about life. Clueless. The picture still rests on the mantel above the fireplace at home in Monticello. Mom displays my highlights and lowlights alike. And, I love her for it.
If you encounter praise or shame, and I know most of us could already fill several books with our experiences thus far, let it be what it is, and work through it. I think of that picture and laugh every time. JT doesn’t find it quite as funny, but he still laughs.
To: Justin Timberlake, you have my sincerest apologies for impersonating you during the summer of 2003.
