Decisions, Decisions...

Decisions, Decisions…

Life is all about making decisions.   No matter what we do every waking moment of our day, we make decisions.  When should I get up?  What should I wear?  What will I pack in my lunch for the day?  What will I try and get accomplished at work today?  Will I workout after I get home?  Will I run on the treadmill or on the road?  What will I have for dinner?  What will I watch on TV?  Will I work on the paper I keep putting off?  Decisions, decisions.

 For the past year or so I’ve been looking at a career change.  I’ve been working in the public sector for nearly 25 years.  I’ve felt a yearning to move into the private sector and look for work closer to my parents.  They aren’t getting any younger, and I have felt that I still have 12-15 more years of good work in me to be of value to an organization. 

The decision to move from public to private sector isn’t an easy one.  Many would argue that the public sector offers job security that the private sector cannot.  The reality is that the public sector is becoming less and less secure each and every day.  Defense budget cuts are affecting working conditions.  We are having to do more with less, and make sure we are justifying our existence.  If you’re not able to prove that your location is of worth to the department of defense mission, you’re likely to be shut down and forced to relocate – or even retire.

My decision to move into the private sector have to do with several factors; economics, opportunity, and adventure.  Economically the private sector offers more in compensation and benefits.  Relocation costs are extremely expense these days.  There are very few opportunities for relocation assistance in the public sector anymore.  Defense budget cuts just don’t allow for it.  On the other hand, bigger firms in the private sector can assist with moves, temporary housing and allowances, not to mention higher salary and yearend bonus incentives.

Job opportunities in the private sector are improving each year as our nation pulls itself out of the recession of 2008/2009.  Lean engineering, process improvement, change management and six sigma processes are gaining in popularity as more organizations begin to see the value in streamline operations.  Salaries are extremely competitive, and larger firms are able to entice top talent with top dollar pay and bonus options.

Finally, the adventure of moving to a new location, establishing a new residency, working along side new coworkers, making new friends, and having new neighbors can be exciting and refreshing.  Sometimes change can do a soul some good.

To me, my family is everything.  The decision to move from the public to the private sector can only work if my family is on board with it.  Every decision I make along the way - What salary should I ask for?, Is the new location a safe and secure one to raise a daughter and make my wife happy?, Is this a good time in my career to make a move?, etc.  All of these questions and the decisions I make along the way will help define the next 15 years of our lives.  I’d better make sure they’re the right decisions.

So I ask you, what decisions are you facing in the coming days, months, years?  How are you taking them on, my friend?

A Common Man

So, what is your Mission Statement?

The other day I attended a conference of entrepreneurs at the invitation of a good friend.  One of the guest speakers asked an interesting question…”What’s your mission statement?  What do you hope to achieve by entering into a small business?”  Now, I’m not looking to go into small business or finds ways to make extra money by selling products, but I was intrigued by the question, “What is your mission statement?”

When I normally think of mission statements, I relate them to large corporations.  At times I get them confused with a vision statement.  What I’ve learned over the years is that a mission statement is something that defines how you want to be perceived.  A vision statement is what you hope to accomplish over a set period of time, say five years or so.  Another difference I’ve noticed between the two is that a mission statement is normally short and to the point.  A vision statement can be fairly lengthy in some cases, including highlights or expected goals.

As I began the drive home from the conference I began thinking about my own mission statement.  What would I put down that would clearly define how I wanted my life to be perceived?  Would it be connected to my creator, my wife, my family, myself - the things I’m passionate about?  It was an interesting dynamic to think about what my mission statement would say about me if I had it hanging up in my home or my office.

After a lot of pondering I determined that I would want my mission statement to be no more than a sentence or two, defining what I wanted to portray in my daily life.  Since my religion, my family and friends, and my own values mean more to me than anything else I came up with this:

Be True to Him (my creator)

Be True to Them (family, friends, all I come in contact with)

Be True to Myself

Ok, so it turned out to be three sentences rather than one or two, and some could argue it could be mistaken as a vision as opposed to a mission statement, but I like it as it is.  It’s simply and really does define who I am.

So, I ask you…what is your Mission Statement?

A Common Man

The Heat of the Moment...

Competition is a funny thing.  It can bring the best and the worst out of a person.

I used to pride myself on the fact that I was never tossed from a game as either a player or a coach.  I had my moments when an official would warn me, but I was never tossed.

That all changed this past summer…  I was helping out with my son’s adult baseball team.  We were playing a rival, and someone we really wanted to beat.  This was the first year that my son’s team had come together, so they were still working out the mechanics of who played where, batting line up, etc.  My role was to provide some leadership and help with the decisions on the field.  I guess you could say I was acting as the head coach, but I hadn’t officially been named that this soon into the summer season.

Unfortunately during the summer months quality umpires are hard to come by.  Most of those in the region are either umpiring at the Little League, Babe Ruth or Legion levels, or hang up their chest protectors until next spring when high school baseball begins again.  On this day we had the unfortunate displeasure of getting two of the worst umpires I’ve ever had to share the field with.  Now, it may sound like I was bias from the start, but I did give both of them the benefit of the doubt and assumed they’d umpire a good game.

You could tell from the beginning that we were in for a long day with these two.  The strike zone was anything but, and the field umpire was too lazy to run to a bag and make an accurate call.  On several occasions both teams complained that the calls being made by both umpires were wrong.  What was supposed to be a ball was called a strike.  What was supposed to be a strike was called a ball.  What was supposed to be an out was called safe.  What was called safe was supposed to be an out.  It went on like this for six solid innings.  Probably the worst umpiring I’ve ever been a part of.

Late in the game our team was down a run, with the tying run at first and our big hitter at the plate.  We had one out and their pitcher was beginning to tire.  I was coaching 3^rd base.  We put on a hit and run, and both our guys executed it perfectly.  Our big hitter got the hit, and the base runner got a great jump on the pitch.  He rounded second and came hard at third.  The hitter passed 1^st and headed for second.  The opposite team decided to try and gun down our lead runner.  Our runner had great speed and easily slid into 3^rd, way ahead of the tag.  Of course, the field umpire (who hadn’t moved off the first base line) called him out at third.  He wasn’t anywhere near the paly and made a terrible called based on a bad angle.  I exploded!!  I looked at the home plate umpire and asked for help.  He told me he didn’t see the play and couldn’t overturn the call.  The other team was amazed as well.  They thought our guy was safe by a mile.  I ran out to the field umpire and asked him to explain how he could have possibly made the call when he wasn’t even close to it.  He told me I was not to question his decision, that the field was his to call as he chose, and that if I didn’t go back to the coach’s box he’d toss me from the game.  At that point he made the biggest mistake he could have; he bumped me with his chest.

There’s a basic rule that players, coaches and umpires follow – keep your hands and your body to yourself.  Unfortunately this guy failed to follow the rule and I lost it.  I think I was more surprised that this guy would actually bump me than I was by his ridiculous rant about it being his field.  I said a few things I probably shouldn’t have, and of course knew I would get tossed for the first time in my baseball playing and coaching career.  True to form, he used his authority and promptly tossed me from the game.  This has stuck with me ever since it happened.  In fact, I haven’t been back on the field since the incident.  It’s been too hard to forget.  I will be back, I just need some time to get over the fact that I let someone else push me that far.

I get why Seattle Seahawk’s Richard Sherman went off during an interview right after the NFC Championship game in Seattle last Sunday.  Here’s a guy who pours everything he’s got into the sport he loves the most.  He’s intelligent, plays clean, and works to be the best at his position.  After he deflected the pass that was intended for Michael Crabtree of the San Francisco 49ers, it sealed the victory for the Seahawks and guaranteed them a trip to the Super Bowl.  After the play Sherman went up to Crabtree, patted him on the butt, told him “Hell of a game!,” extended his hand out for a shake, and repeated, “Hell of a game!”  Instead of Crabtree taking the handed extended to him he shoved Sherman in the helmet and walked to the sideline.  After the game a reporter asked Sherman about the incident.  Of course with the emotion of the moment, the game saving play, and the fact that Crabtree said a few disparaging remarks in the off season about him, Richard Sherman exclaimed that he was the best and should not have been tested.  He also said that Crabtree was a mediocre receiver.

So maybe Richard Sherman crossed the line with his comments after the game.  Maybe I crossed the line when I got chest-bumped by the umpire last summer.  What I know for a fact is that when you’re passionate about what you do and what you believe in you’ll do anything to defend your team and your reputation.  Richard Sherman is being thought of as a “thug” because of his comments.  I was looked at as a ranting coach while I was being tossed off the baseball diamond.  That doesn’t mean I was wrong about my feelings.  It also doesn’t mean that Richard Sherman was incorrect about how he felt either.  What it means is that during the heat of the moment passion can lend itself to extreme emotion, both for better and for worse.  To be perfectly honest, I will take 11 Richard Sherman’s who want to be the best at their position any day of the week.  I will also continue to coach with passion and look for fairness every time I step foot on a baseball field.

A Common Man

Don't Run with Scissors, You'll Poke Your Eye Out!

My mom was never one to say goofy things like, “Don’t run with scissors in your hands,” or “Chew your food 20 times before you swallow!”  No, my mom has always been fairly down to earth.  She’s one of the most humble people I’ve ever known.

My mom started off as a California girl.  She was born in Culver City and lived there for a short time until she moved to Colorado, then eventually settled in New Mexico.  She met my dad in college.  They married, had me and set roots down in the small town of Tucumcari.  A few years later we moved to Albuquerque, and if not for a brief move to El Paso, it’s safe to say that my mom is a true Albuquerque gal.

My mom taught me independence.  She taught me, through example, how to survive when no one else was around to help out.  She taught me how to cook, do laundry, iron, and maintain a clean house.  She taught me the importance of church.  She taught me how to love.

One of the things that I cherish the most about my mom is her sensitivity to others.  Like me, she can be stubborn if she’s being pushed in a direction or path she doesn’t want to head down, but all in all she loves with her whole heart. 

One of the fondest memories I have of my mom was when I was twelve years old.  We had taken a family inner tubing trip to the Sandia Mountains.  My brother and I were climbing up the hill as far as we could go, then slide down as fast as possible.  I came up with the bright idea of daisy-chaining a group of us down the mountain.  I took the lead, and with 7 others interlocked together, we flew down the mountain with lightening speed.  As we were coming close to the bottom we started to veer to the right where a grove of trees sat.  I stuck out my leg to stop us from running into the tree, but the tree trunk was stronger and than my leg and it was my femur that suffered during the impact.  I can remember blacking out briefly, then gently sliding down the rest of the way to the bottom.  My mom knew right away that my leg was broken.  I wanted to stand up but she told me to lie there and wait for my dad to get the car.  I’m not sure how they got me into the back seat, but I do remember the ride to the hospital and my mom cradling my head and reassuring me that everything was going to be all right.  I also remember her talking with the doctor, trying to figure out how bad the break was, how long I’d be in the hospital, when could I have visitors, etc.  I stayed in the hospital for 30 days.  During that time she came to see me every day.  She brought me magazines to read, treats to share with my roommate, and keep me up to date on everything that was going on outside the hospital.

When I was finally released and ready to go home I was put in a body cast.  I would be stuck in that thing for six more weeks!  When we got home I found out that my mom had completely redecorated my room.  She painted the walls, put up cool wallpaper, rearranged the furniture and made it a special place to come home to.  She really put a lot of effort into making sure my homecoming was a joyous one.

You see, the thing I will always remember about my mom is her compassion to do for others.  She lives selflessly, and asks little in return for all the love and support she gives.  My mom is not only one of the most humble people I know, she’s also the strongest and the most independent.  I blessed to have her as my mom.  Her advice today is genuine and comes from the heart.  Thanks for always being there, mom!

A Common Man

Blog of a Common Man: If I live to be 100...

Blog of a Common Man: If I live to be 100...: My grandma is 90 years old.   She just turned 90, in fact, a couple of weeks ago.   I got a chance to see her the last time my wife and...

If I live to be 100...

My grandma is 90 years old.  She just turned 90, in fact, a couple of weeks ago.  I got a chance to see her the last time my wife and I were in town.  She’s still living on her own.  She drives, and keeps herself in good health.  She’s an active athletic booster for the University of New Mexico Lobos.  She has season tickets and catches as many football and basketball games she can.  She’s also an avid Denver Broncos fan.  She took a trip to Denver recently to watch the Broncos host the Chargers.  She got to meet with John Elway while she was there and even had an opportunity to shake Peyton Manning’s hand and ask him “What the hell happened out there?” when the Broncos lost the game.  My grandma is one of a kind!

If I were lucky enough to live to be a 100 or even as close as my grandma is right now, what would I hope to accomplish in life?  What would make me feel that I live a full life?  Would I have any regrets?  Would I wish I had done things differently?

I’m more than halfway to the century mark right now.  I’d prefer to think that I still have half a century left in my life as opposed to thinking my life is half over.  My life to this point has certainly had its ups and downs, but I chose to think that my life has been a good one so far.

So, what is it about my life that makes me feel blessed?  It starts with family.  My mom and dad are still alive and healthy.  Both parents have always loved me and continue to tell me how glad they are that I’m their son.  I have two wonderful stepparents that love my mom and dad unconditionally.  My step dad has become like a second father to me.  He inspires me with his vision and drive for life.  I’m blessed to be married to my best friend.  I couldn’t imagine my life without her.  She’s my rock and keeps my mind in proper perspective.  Together we have four beautiful children.  I have two incredible daughters from a previous marriage, and two stepchildren that I proudly call my own.  My oldest daughter is one of the brightest personalities I know.  She’s creative, sensitive and always willing to serve.  She’s chosen a career of social work because of her passion for others.  My middle daughter is one of a kind.  She’s athletic, intelligent, and always looking for ways to love others.  Her real desire in life is to love and be loved.  My youngest daughter is smart, talented and artistic; her imagination knows no bounds.  She sings like an angel, and God only knows what’s in store for her as she ventures out into the world in a few short years.  My only son is one of the most sensitive young men I’ve ever known.  That’s not to say he’s weak, just the opposite.  He’s strong until it hurts.  He takes care of his mind and his body.  We’ve never had to worry that he’d make the wrong choices.  He’s a thrill to coach on the field, and he’s the guy I want at the plate when we need a double to win the game.

I’ve had an opportunity to serve my country, first as a submariner for nearly 12 years, then as a civil service employee for another 12.  I’ve been both a public and private school teacher.  They were some of the most rewarding times of my life.  The combination of my work experience and education has allowed my family and I to live in a warm, loving place to come home to each evening.  I’m blessed with numerous friends, past and present.  I stay in contact with former students and athletes I’ve had the privilege of teaching and coaching.  In all honesty, this first half of my life has been sheer joy.  Sure, I’ve had some bumps in the road but my God has been beside me every step of the way.  I have no doubt that as I start the second half He will be right there with me to the end.

I’m a list kind-of-guy.  My wife will tell you that I’ve got mental check boxes.  When I’ve got things to do I place them on a list and check them off as I get them accomplished.  With that in mind here’s my list (with check boxes included) of what I’d like to accomplish as God guides in the 3^rd and 4^th quarters of life:

§ Keep working until my body and mind won’t let me anymore.

§  Keep fit in both body and mind.

§  Keep building friendships and strengthening relationships.

§  Keep coaching and mentoring.

§  Keep my wife happy.

§  Keep my family close.

§  Serve others more often.

§  Think of my own needs less.

§  Stay faithful to my principals and beliefs.

§  Each and every day, strive to be a better person than I was the day before.

§  Keep listening to my God and following His instruction.

Sure, I could make a list of toys I want, trips to take, big ticket items to purchase, but I’d much rather think that life isn’t about all that.  Life to me is about living it the way God intended, with the gifts He’s given me.  He has blessed me to this point, why would I try and change course now?

A Common Man

I saw someone on the street corner the other day…..

A few weeks ago I drove to the grocery store that my wife and I frequent.  Standing on the corner of the main road and the cross section was a rather large, younger woman holding up a sign.  I couldn’t read the sign, but I could tell that she had a coat on, so I assumed she was warm, was wearing what appeared to be clean clothes, and the hair under her hat was combed.

I’m embarrassed to say it, but my first thought was, “It looks like she could skip a few meals rather than begging for one!”  I immediately felt bad for my instant judgment and took a closer look at her.

What I saw was an overweight but attractive young woman.  She didn’t seem proud to be standing there holding up a sign asking for help, but she didn’t appear to be smug about it either, as if to say that the world owed her something.  I thought to myself, “I’ve got everything in the world I need.  Why can’t she have the same?”

I ran into the store and headed down the aisles with my list in hand.  I’ll be the first to admit that I hardly ever stick to it.  My wife will send me with specific instructions and I usually find something else that we “really need” or I “really want!”  It’s nice to have the luxury for sure, but is it fair considering that there is a young woman standing on the street corner begging for food?

As I wandered through the store looking for things on the list I asked myself what a conversation would be like with her.  What would I ask?  How would she reply?  Would she be offended by my questions?  Would I feel inclined to help her once I knew her story?

Just down the way there is a Starbucks.  I imagined myself going up to her and asking if she’d like a warm cup of coffee or some hot cocoa.  Assuming she’d agree, I’d take her to the Starbucks, pay for her beverage and offer to buy her something to eat as well.  Once seated I would ask her name, find out where she’s from, find out if she had any family close by, tell her something about myself, and talk just about everything other than the obvious, “Why are you standing on the corner begging for food?  What brought you to this place in your life that you felt you had no other choice than to stand there with a crudely made sign asking for someone to give you something?”  Of course, my hope would be that as we talked the information would eventually come out, but then what?  What would I be willing to do about it?  Anything?  Would I feel obligated since I bought her coffee and listened to her story?  Would I feel responsible for her if I ever saw her again?

Perhaps that’s why I didn’t stop when I first noticed her.  Perhaps I saw the conversation fast forward in my mind and didn’t like the outcome.  Perhaps I chose to use the excuse, “Give to them and they never learn to take care of themselves.”

But I’m not like that.  I know I was created with a tender heart.  I feel terrible that she’s out there, in the cold, and I’m standing inside a fully stocked grocery story, able to afford just about whatever I chose to put in my cart.

So where do I go from here?  The next time I see her will I simply ignore her again?  Act like I don’t see her as she holds the sign a few feet from my truck?  Roll my window down and offer her a dollar, feeling like I just paid her rent for the month?  Or will I stop, ask her if she’d like a warm cup of coffee and try to get to know her a bit better? 

She’s God’s creation, no different from me.  I hope I’m a big enough man the next time I see her I would do more than immediately cast judgment.  I would help someone else would do the same for me.

A Common Man