Sometimes one conversation can change your life

Today I am at Colonial Williamsburg.  Which is a place that changed my life.  Ok let me get here first. 

I left about a week ago to head to Old Salem and MESDA. http://www.mesda.org   Old Salem was good but not quite to the level of some of the other historic communities I have visited over the years.  But MESDA now that is another story.  They have one of the greatest collections of Secretaries and Book Cases I have ever seen.  I was only able to visit 8 of the 30 rooms they have.  You have to make reservations to see more of the collection.  So I think there is another trip in my future.  They also have a research center.  I was able to find numerous examples of cellarets, which I want to build.  Ok for the furniture challenged it is a whiskey box.  I was also able to find some good examples of Canterbury, which is also in my future.  Again for the challenged it is officially a music stand or more commonly seen as a magazine rack. 

I also attend the Woodworking Conference in America.  It was interesting, got to talk with a lot of the authors of books, magazine articles and bloggers.  The speakers at several of the sessions were from MESDA and they did a great job.  One of the more interesting was by a black guy who talked about a free black man furniture building in the early 1800’s.  Even though he was black he owned about 30 slaves and was the richest men in North Carolina.  Many of his works are in the museum.  The pieces are priceless.  The attendees the conference, well how am I going to put this were “less than cool groupies”, so it was an interesting crowd.  It was an interesting thing to do but I doubt I will do the conference again.  Most of the woodworking stuff is available on YouTube.

Today it was on to Williamsburg.  The first time I was here was in the mid 80’s for an ACEC conference.  I had connived to get myself on a committee so the company would have to send me to the annual meetings.  The senior partner supported the organization but the other partners thought it was a waste of production time to go to meetings. 

It was a great trip.  We had a few days together thanks to Carole’s sister keeping the boys.  The weather was beautiful, crisp fall days, leaves in full color.  We loved wandering up and down the streets of Williamsburg.  Carole loved the history; I loved the craftsmanship of the people working in the community.  It immediately became one of our favorite places to visit.  We came back several times afterwards.  Once was at Christmas to see all the decorations.  There were none!  Christmas was a religious holiday and they didn’t decorate.  Oh well it was still a great trip.

The conference had a trade show.  Over in the corner was a guy with an Apple Two running a CAD Program.  CAD was new technology and all the equipment was well over a $100,000.  It was interesting that they could make it work on an Apple.  I talked with the guy and he said it would be running on a PC sometime in the next few months.  We exchanged phone numbers and address (long time before email) and we talked many times over the next few months  A year or so later I bought one of their systems (serial number 144) and a few months after that started my own business. Two years later I was making almost ten times as much as I was when I left the previous firm.  That one meeting changed the course of my life.  I don’t know if I could have done what I have been able to do without that early adoption of technology.  It allowed me to be at home when the boys were growing up.  It gave Carole and me more flexibility to enjoy our lives. 

Sometimes just one conversation can change your life.

Two a days

If you have never played football this may not mean much to you.  If you have you will feel the pain again.

High school football season starts a couple of weeks before school does in Alabama.  Which means August!  Possibly the hottest month of the year in Alabama!  (Dog days of summer, when it too hot for a dog to move.)  Since school hasn’t started yet, all the coaches like to get in two practices a day.  Normally the one in the morning starts about 6:00 or 6:30 and goes to about 9:00 then the next one starts about 4:00 and goes until dark or the coach is tired.  Since he stands around yelling a lot he doesn’t get tired easily.  He only stops practice when he can’t yell any more.  God help you if he has a megaphone. 

I still remember my first football practice.  I was entering the eight grade and was leaving Sycamore Elementary to start at Winterboro High School.  Mother made me a big breakfast with bacon, eggs, biscuits, orange juice and a couple of glasses of milk.  And off I went to be a football hero.  I was starting about a week later than the other boys. The main reason is I didn’t even know practice had started yet.  You have to remember this was the days before Facebook, email, etc. information was mostly obtained by listening in on an 8 party phone line.  I got there and was issued some very ill fitting uniform parts, including shoes.  The Senior and Junior boys got all the good stuff.  Of course it might have helped that they showed up on the right day.  I don’t think any thing matched, none of it was less than 5 years old and there were holes or patches all over.  My feet still have scars from those high top football shoes.  I dressed out (the dressing room was the coal fired boiler room under the gym) and went to the field.  I don’t remember knowing anyone on the field.  I didn’t have a clue of what to expect.  I didn’t know anyone who had ever played football.  I had no one to give me a warning of what was in store for me.  The first thing we started doing was running.  Now I had been lying around all summer like 13-year-old boys do, probably complaining about everything anyone wanted me to do, so I was pretty soft (At least that is what the coach told me that morning).  Not only did we run, but then we ran some more and some more and some more.  Well remember that big breakfast my mother made.  A word to the wise here!  Never eat bacon or drink orange juice and then go run!  There were pieces of bacon in an orange milk substance all over the playing field before the morning was over.  I thought surely I would die that morning.  Finally practice was over, I just collapsed under a big pine tree and figured God would come take me up any moment.  I wasn’t that lucky. 

Oh did I mention we didn’t practice on the football field because we would mess up the grass.  We practiced on the grammar school playground, which hadn’t had a blade of grass growing in fifty years or more.  The dirt had been packed hard with thousands of little footsteps over the years.  I discovered that morning where the term, a cloud of dust and three yards came from. 

Oh no, I have to go back that afternoon and it will be hotter and dustier.  The mornings were dedicated to conditioning.  The afternoons were dedicated to learning the offense.  Learning the offence means you walk thru the play, and then you run thru it at half speed.  Nobody hits anyone at full speed.  And the coach spends all his time cussing you because you did it wrong.  Ok the attention span of high school boys is pretty short.  I was placed on the sideline to stand, (stand is a keyword, don’t think of sitting if you don’t want to run laps for a couple of hours) watch, pay attention and learn.  At least I got some rest.

The next morning was just a piece of toast and water before practice.  No trails of bacon but oh did I hurt.  In case you have never done it, the third day is the worst when you are conditioning for any sport.  The third day your hair hurts.  You blink your eyes it hurts.  Don’t dare sneeze or cough if you want your body to stay together.  After the third day you start to recover a little and it gets a little easier each day. 

OK what is the point of all of this.  Two-a-days has to be the hardest thing you ever survive.  It creates a point of reference in your life.  From then on you can always say I survived two-a-days, I can get thru this too. 

Michael, Paul and I all played high school football, something come up in a conversation one day and we all discovered that two-a-days was a common point of reference for each of us. 

I have been thru several surgeries in my life.  They aren’t fun.  Ever notice how you walk in a hospital and they always take you out in a wheelchair!  Are you really getting better?  Some of the recoveries aren’t fun.  PT can be painful but you have to do it to get better.  I have told myself on several occasions OK Bob you got thru two-a-days and this only three-a-week, suck it up and do it!

What are your points of reference?

Dealing with the “Big C”

No I am not talking about Carole, well yes I am, but she isn’t the “Big C”, well maybe she is.  Before I get anymore confused I had better write this and explain what I mean.

This story starts in 1986, 28 years ago.  Life was hectic.  I was a partner in a firm in Birmingham, Carole was working as a counselor at the vocational school in Talladega County, and we had two small boys.  I hated my job!  I was leaving the house at 6:00 in the morning and not getting home until 6:30 or 7:00 at night.  My kids were growing up without me being at home.  Carole was working her ass off to take care of them, cook our dinner and do her job at the school.  I won’t say life wasn’t good, it was just too hectic and we didn’t have time for each other.  

There were four partners in our firm; one of them accused me of not pulling my weight.  I was pissed; I knew where the work was coming from in the office.  I had the secretary pull the records for the past year and give me the total volume of payment received.  I was producing 60% of the revenue for the firm.  I wasn’t getting 60% of the money!  At about the same time there was this new thing on the horizon called CAD (Computer Aided Drafting) that I was total captured by.  The other partners thought it was some weird idea that would pass on one day soon and there was no reason to invest that type of money in something as crazy as that.  I said screw you guys I will buy the system myself.  So I spent about $10,000 on a computer system and software to have a CAD station.  We had two jobs in the office I did the one using the CAD system.  The other was done using our traditional hand drafting system.  At the end of the jobs, the CAD job took much more of my time but the profit on the job was much better.  OK, just so you have the picture, I am doing most of the work for the firm, I have a method where I can make a higher level of profit and I can spend more time with my wife if I quit and work in Pell City.  The first of March, I gave them the KMA award and walked out the door.  I set up my office in our house.  I was home and got hugs and kisses from everyone in the afternoon around 3:00.  I was doing intellectually stimulating work.  At the end of the April I had already made more money that I had the previous year.

In May, ACEC was having a convention at Sea World.  Uncle Sam gives me a big discount on travel and hotel rooms when I go to conventions.  (Statue of limitations has long since closed on this Mr. IRS)  We pack up and fly to the convention.  May have been the best convention ever.  Carole and I, boys in tow, go to all the cocktail parties and we spend the rest of the time at Sea World and Disney with the boys.  Life was good.

But wait, there was something concerning Carole.  She had a lump in her right breast.  The doctor told her it was OK not to worry about it.  She didn’t accept that answer and forced them into doing a biopsy on the place.  The results came back; it was “The Big C”, Cancer.  Our world came apart.  At first I was in denial.  It couldn’t be true.  We got second opinions.  It was true.  The only choice was a radical mastectomy.  The surgery went well but it was hard on her.  Looking back, I wasn’t as much help, as I should have been.  I felt I had to work, because if I didn’t work we weren’t going to have money for house payments and food. 

It was serious, hard surgery.  While she was in the hospital a woman walked in the room and introduced herself.  She was from the “Reach to Recovery” program.  She talked with us about what Carole would have to go thru in the next few months and answered tons of questions she had about what life was like after the operation.  Questions that only a woman who had been thru the surgery could answer.  I don’t know who she was, we never saw her again.  She was an angel that day.

Recovery was hard.  Carole’s sister Julie spent a lot of time with us during and immediately after the surgery taking care of the boys.  The boys later told us they had no idea of the seriousness of the problem and were having a blast with their Aunt Julie.  I watched her cry many mornings as she did her exercise to get mobility back in her arm.  It was devastating to me to see what she was going thru.  She was tough and worked hard at recovery. 

Things had finally stabilized and were beginning to go pretty good when she found another lump in the same area which meant going back to surgery.  My mother was in the waiting room with me when they came out with the news.  She had cancer in her lymph nodes.  I didn’t have a clue what a lymph node was, but every time I had heard of someone having cancer in their lymph nodes they died.  I couldn’t believe the words, it was like I was having a bad dream and couldn’t wake up, the room was spinning, they told us to wait for her back in the room.  I made it to the elevator and passed out.  Until the night she passed away that was “The Worst Moment of my Life”. 

The surgeon told us he wanted her to see this new oncologist who had just come to town.  The surgeon also warned us he was pretty aggressive which was great and exactly what she wanted.  She didn’t want any chance of not seeing her boys grow up. 

Chemo was tough.  She was working, taking care of two small boys and dealing with chemo.  My mother was a saint; she went with Carole to every one of her chemo treatments.  Norma, my secretary (and other mother) and I took care of the boys.  Carole lost her hair and was very sick during most of the treatments.  She kept going!  Never missed work, never missed any of the boys programs or any of my crazy stuff.  I still don’t know how she did it. 

She was concerned about her looks and believe me there is no sex life during chemo.  I will just leave it at things just don’t work.  It was one of the few times I have seen her insecure.  She wanted to know if I still loved her in the shape she was in.  This was the girl of my dreams.  I assured her I still loved her.  Besides “if I can love you when you are bald with one boob, I will be around for a long time”.  We have shared that line many times with friends. 

If she thought “Reach to Recovery” was hard she hadn’t seen anything yet.  Reconstructive surgery was, well I just can’t tell you how bad it was.  She asked her doctor why he didn’t tell her it was going to be so hard.  And he replied, if I had told you, you wouldn’t have done it.  It wasn’t just one surgery it was multiple surgeries.  Her body kept rejecting the implants and they had to do it again and again.  I think she had four trips to the operating room before they finally got it to work.  All during this time she never slowed down.  The boys and me always came first.  She was their scout leader.  She sewed costumes for the “Full Dress Book Reports”.  She had very little sympathy for women who wouldn’t be involved their children’s lives.  She was nice and encouraging to them but she dog cussed them to me.  She finally lost it one day when this women who didn’t work told her she didn’t have time to help with something in Scouts.  She used a few four letter words and told her she worked every day, took care of the house and fixed a dinner every night for her family and was undergoing chemo therapy, and if by God I can do this, so can you.  Get up off your lazy ass and make something of your life.  She eventually had the other breast removed and reconstructive surgery done on it also, as a preventive measure. 

I won’t tell you we had a perfect relationship during this time.  She was scared, frustrated, tired and generally felt miserable for about 2 years.  I had to learn to be a kinder, gentler person.  She was always a perfect mom to her boys and a perfect family member to our families, but she needed a release and sometime I got the brunt of her frustrations.  It was probably well deserved.  I agreed with and to, a lot of things I didn’t believe to be good or true.  I turned the other cheek.  I walked away from a few conversations.  She needed total and undivided support.  (As a side note never ever tell a red headed woman to calm down.)  My brother-in-law told me he saw a major change take place in me during this time.

Life finally got back to the new normal.  We saw that life was precious and you had to love and enjoy it each day.  We made a vow to always have fun.  We went, we did, we saw, we enjoyed, we hugged and kissed more.  We took “No Tan Lines” cruises to the Virgin Islands and the two of us sailed alone on a 40 foot boat for a couple of weeks each summer. Paul and Michael thought we were disgusting.  (OK Paul and Michael, we did actually wear our swim suits, well most of the time.)  It is pretty amazing that two people who have been married for 20 plus years can spend two weeks alone, love every minute of it and still talk to each other at the end of the trip.  We bought a boat on the coast and then she wanted a bigger boat.  We sailed across the Gulf of Mexico several times.  She loved seeing the Milky Way from the middle of the Gulf.  We watched the moon set in the middle of the night.  Life was good and getting better.

We thought of it as a second chance to do things we hadn’t done.  Carole got more involved in the community.  She retired from her job and ran for the school board.  She got active in the American Cancer Society and worked for reach to recovery.  She became a trainer for volunteers in the program.  She was chair of the United Way Campaign.  She was Citizen of the Year for Pell City.  She took on special projects like not smoking in restaurants in Pell City.  She worked tirelessly.  She told one of our ministers recently that she knew that God must had saved her so she could help other people and she had always tried her best to do be a helper.  She impacted a lot of lives.  So many people have told me of the positive impact she had on them.  She could give hard love advice and people appreciated what she said and didn’t get mad at her.  This was truly a unique ability.

Things went well.  Cancer checkups went from weekly, to monthly, to quarterly, to yearly, to you are cured don’t come back.  We watched the boys grow up, graduate with honors and scholarships, graduate from college, get great jobs, find people they loved and cared about.  I got my credit cards back.  Thank you Jesus!

A few years ago she told me something and looking back it may have been the start of her knowing something was going on.  She told me she had made a pack with God.  “If he would let her see her boys grown and happily married her life would be complete.  As time passed and her request was being fulfilled she was beginning to worry about her deal.”  We laughed about it, shared it with our Sunday School Class and friends.  I told her she should have asked for great grand kids.  She told me she didn’t want to be greedy. 

Then about three years ago it happened again.  We were working in the yard and her back started hurting.  Well hell, you rake leaves for a few hours and you are 63 years old your back is supposed to hurt.  It didn’t stop hurting.  She went to the doctor and they told her that her back was broken.  The only problem was you couldn’t break your back the way it was broken.  The only way you can break your back like that is with cancer.  Oh my God, not again! 

They repaired her back and samples confirmed the doctor’s first impression.  It was Breast Cancer, stage four.  The orthopedic doctor and our niece Beth, who works in the cancer center at St V East, recommend an oncologist.  We had our initial meeting with him, he was great but Carole wanted to use her oncologist that she had used years before.  About two days later Jimmy Harvey her original oncologist called, he was a partner of the doctor we saw, and told her that she was his patient.  He had got her thru this one time and he would do it again. 

We went into hyper mode on the bucket list.  While we had crossed the equator, the International Date Line there was still places to see and things to do.  We worked treatments around trips to Maine, Equator, Europe, and Virgin Islands.  I am not talking long weekend trips we were gone six or seven weeks at a time.  We had fun.  We met new best friends; we took old friends with us.  Last year she was got on to me for working too much, I am supposed to be retired, and we need to do more things together.  I pointed out to her we had been gone 16 weeks that year not including long weekends at the boat every other weekend.  We laughed and vowed to do more next year. 

We had been getting positive results from her treatment, Dr. Harvey was positive for the next couple of years. We got back from France last June for her check up.  New scans showed places in her liver.  I didn’t want to read what Google told me about liver cancer.  I am sure she read the same thing.  Her family insisted we go to Anderson in Houston for more opinions.  We did, their opinion was do what your Doctor in Birmingham is telling you to do.  She started treatments.  The thought of loosing her hair was devastating.  I am sure I helped when I told her that at least this time she would be “bald with two boobs”.  She did well with the treatment.  They would zap her for a couple of days and she would spend most of her time on the sofa.  After that she was up and off to the boat or some other adventure.  January came and time for new scans.  Things were good, places in the back had cleared up and places on her liver were much smaller.  Only four more treatments to go and chemo would be finished, although we knew there would probably be more for the rest of her life.

We were off to the Leeward Islands on a 485 ft. sailboat with the boys and their partners.  She was amazing to everyone on the boat.  Her cute little hats and red wig never slowed her down.  Many of the people on the ship came up to the boys and me and told us how impressed they were with her attitude.

At the end of March she was scheduled for new round of scans.  They weren’t good.  They showed new places in her bones and the places in her liver were much larger.  The chemo wasn’t working.  The doctor told us he didn’t have any other chemo options for her.  All three of us cried.  We knew of some advanced studies in Nashville.  It took a while to set up the appointments and by the time we got to see them her liver numbers were way out of the range of acceptability.  Ten times normal values.  Her doctor went all the way to Director of FDA to see if she could get the medicine under a “Compassionate Care” program.  No luck.  In May Dr. Harvey tried one other form of treatment.  He told her it was going to be bad. 

We spent most of the month of May visiting with some friends and spending time on the boat.  We anchored out several times but it was obvious that she was struggling.  The last couple of days we were there she had to hold my arm as to stabilize her self as we walked down the dock.  The last day she couldn’t get on the boat.  Michael and I had to push and tug on her.  It was time to go home.

Each day was a steady decline which meant more doctor appointments.  She couldn’t tolerate the chemo.  She had sores all over her body, she was miserable and the doctor had to stop the treatment.

The day she passed away, she got up that morning, had breakfast and took a bath on her own.  Paul came for a visit at 10:00 they laughed and talked about his new job for an hour and she wanted to rest.  I checked on her at noon, she was sleeping soundly; at 2:00 Alain and Sandy came for a visit.  We couldn’t get her up.  Home health nurse came and said she has to go to the hospital now.  The evaluation at the hospital told the doctors her liver had completely stopped functioning.  It is hard to maintain composure when the doctor tells you the girl of your dreams has less than 24 hours to live. 

She was in a lot of pain and told them to give her something to make it go away.  They moved her in a room and I don’t know if she ever recognized anyone after they moved her.  A little before midnight we were alone in the room.  Of course I was crying like a baby.  I looked up and she had a tear in her eye, I wiped it away, told her I loved her and always would, she took one final breath. 

I probably should end the story there, but I have to add the moral to the story.  Of course I would have loved for her to have never gone thru dealing with cancer and I would have given anything to have enjoyed a 70^th wedding anniversary with her.  We had a great life together.  I think we were granted a lot of years we wouldn’t have had, if it hadn’t been for modern medicine and good doctors.  She, me and we made the most of those years.  She seized the moment and made the best of each day.  Her passion was helping people.  She did that.  I hope everyone uses her as model to live their life.

Where were you when?

I remember my parents talking about where they were when they found out about Pear Harbor.  So how many times have we defined our lives by the simple statement of “Where were you went …”.  I certainly remember several in my life time. 

• ·        Where was I when John Kennedy was killed?  Looking for my High School Principal.
• ·        Where was I when the planes flew in to the world trade center?  In a sewage treatment plant.
• ·        Where was I when Neal Armstrong walked on the moon?  In a bar.

Maybe the first two will get covered later on in another blog but this is about “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”.  So where were you that night?

That night was framed in a unique way for Carole.  I had just accepted a job with Southern Prestressed Concrete in Pensacola.  I had been working for just a few weeks and the Chief Engineer Lynn Howard invited Carole and meet to join him, his wife, the owner of the company Mr. Noonan (I think his first name was Mister because that is all I ever heard from anyone) and his wife to join them at “The Country Club” for dinner.  We just a couple of punk kids straight out of college.  I don’t think either of us had ever been to a country club for dinner.  We were somewhere between scared and intimidated.  OK, if we blow this my career is over, I can pack it up and go back to washing trucks at Floyd and Beasley. 

Well we were on our best behavior and we succeeded in getting thru the night without getting gravy on the boss’s wife or spilling a drink on the table.  I actually want to be in front of a TV because that was the night the US was supposed to have a man walk on the moon.  I knew this event was going to cost me the opportunity of a life time, seeing the first person to walk on the moon, but screwing it up would cost me my new job. About the time TV coverage picked up we retired to the bar to watch the coverage.  Thank you Jesus!  Carole and I weren’t very sophisticated drinkers.   I could fake it by ordering Scotch on the rock.  (Still my favorite drink)  Carole didn’t have a clue.  This was a long time before the more recent years of “Gin on the Rocks, Dirty”.  She was twenty-one and hadn’t spent much time in bars.  As a matter of fact hardly anyone had.  I think there were only two in Tuscaloosa when were in college.  You didn’t enter them without a gun.  Imagine that only two bars in Tuscaloosa!  She admitted she didn’t have a clue what to order and Mr. Noonan said I will order something for you.  He ordered her a Pina Colada.  Of course being twenty-one she loved it.  From then on every time something would come up about the first man on the moon, Carole would always say that was the night I had my first Pina Colada.  Strange how things define our lives.  Was it the first steps on the moon or Pina Colada?  We will never know. 

Many years later we got to meet Neil Armstrong at an ACEC meeting.  It is a long story but I was on the committee that had him speak, so one of the duties was to meet and welcome him.  I found out that night he had always been one of her heroes.  She had to have her photograph made with him.  No, I couldn’t be in the photo!  ACEC photographer was nice enough to send us a copy of the photo.  She had it framed and put it on the night stand on her side of the bed.  So every night she kissed me good night, rolled over to turn of the light and I am assuming told Neil goodnight.  I said something to her about it one time and she moved it to her closet.  I guess so she could run around naked in front of him.

So Neil you mess with my wife in heaven and I am coming after your ass!  

How you go into a bar with a screen door.

Back in the early 70’s I was working for Paragon Engineering in Leeds.  We were in the basement of Moss Thornton Construction Company.  Actually Moss Thornton was one of the owners of the company.  Our office was just outside of the break room for the construction company so it was an active place.  One day there was an equipment operator in the break area expounding on the virtues of life for an equipment operator.  One of his favorite places was a bar up at the Brompton exit.  The bar had no Air Conditioning and a wood stove for a heat.  It wasn’t the type of place I would want to take my 25 year old wife.  The operator was trying to convince me it would be a good place for me to stop on the way home and buy him a couple of drinks.  I told him I didn’t have a gun with me and ask if would they issue me one.  He said not to worry he had plenty in his truck, but he said you had to know to enter the building.  The first thing you need to enter is a gun, a BIG gun.  Don’t matter what you have as long it is real big.  Now what you do is you just stick the barrel down into your hip pocket with most of the gun hanging out.  As soon as you enter the door you accidently bump it with your hand so it falls out.  Now it needs to be big and heavy so it makes a lot of noise when it hits the wood floor.  As you start to pick the gun up you sort of kick it so it hits a couple of chair legs and make more noise.  By that time you should have at least a few of the people in the bar attention.  You bend down slow, pick up the gun; bring it slowly up to eye level so you can see it real good.  You twist the gun slowly around back and forth admiring the weapon.  As you slowly admire the gun you say loudly “Damn that Sun-of-Bitch could have went off and kilt one of y’all”.  Then you can sit at the bar and have a beer, but don’t stay too long unless you want to use the gun.

I never made to the bar but I have never forgotten the description of how to go into the bar.  

Bob's Rules

All of us live by rules.  We probably all have personal rules that we live by.  Carole and I are big fans of NCIS.  If you watch the program you know they reference Gibb’s Rules from time to time.  I got to wondering what my rules were. So here they are.  I have only been thinking about them for a short time so I reserve the right to change or add to them.

Bob Rule #1:       If you are going to be stupid you have to be tough.

There are several variations of this rule.  If you are going to be stupid it is going to hurt.  If you are going to be stupid it is going to cost you some money.  Of course the object of the game is to make good decision in a timely manner.  Recently I cut my finger with a chisel while cutting dove tails.  Right before I cut it I told myself that this was a dangerous thing to do and I need to find a way to hold the wood so my hand wouldn’t be in front of the chisel.  I didn’t see an easy way to do it so I tried to be careful.  Well I didn’t try hard enough.  I bought a couple of hold downs the next day and fixed me a jig so I don’t have to hold them any more while I am cutting.  Over the years I have made some business decision that I didn’t think felt good at the time and they cost me a bunch of money.  Maybe we should all take time to be smarter.

Bob Rule #2:       Never do anything you wouldn’t want your mother to know about.

My mom was an inspiration to me and a lot of other people.  I always wanted to do things that would make her proud of her son.  That may have been were part of my drive to succeed came from.  I used to tell our sons that they should never do anything they wouldn’t want her to know about.  If you always do things to make your mom proud it will keep you out of a lot of trouble in your life.

Bob Rule #3:       Be the best you can be.

All of us can’t be professional football players or Olympic swimmers.  Let’s face it they just were born different from you and me.  I had a good friend in High School who was a good football player.  Much better than me.  He smoked, he drank, he didn’t do what the coach told him to do, and he would slack on the practice field.  What could he have been if he had tried harder?  I get very frustrated with myself when I do something that isn’t good enough.  I am learning how to build furniture and it is challenging.  When I slip and make a bad cut it is very frustrating.  I have to practice more and work harder to do what I want to achieve.  I have never considered myself to be the best engineer.  But I have always tried to be the best I could be.  Often that meant just working harder to try to accomplish more. 

Bob Rule #4:       Never be unavailable

Especially from Carole.  I got a huge job one time because the Architect called another engineer on Friday afternoon at 4:50 and he wasn’t in the office.  I was there to take his call.  At that time the job was a year’s salary.  It made an impression.  I take calls early in the morning and late at night.  With cell phones you can always be available.  The contractors we work with start early in the morning and the architects work late into the night.  I try to always take their calls regardless of the time.  Some of the calls I take are on Friday afternoon when I am in the middle of Pensacola Bay on the sailboat.  They are paying for the boat so I need to take their call. 

Bob Rule #5:       Take time to have fun.

I work hard but I also play hard.  Carole had cancer 27 years ago.  Until that time I worked almost nonstop.  I had just started my own business and was scared of failure.  That was slapped in the face, she might not be here forever and we hadn’t had enough fun.  Since that time there is little we wanted to do that we haven’t done.  She still gives me a hard time about working so much but I have to remind her we were gone 16 weeks last year and every weekend is a 3 day weekend.  Now that she is facing cancer again we have to plan thing around her treatment schedule.  We have several trips already planned for next year plus all the weekends on the boat. 

Bob Rule #6:       Don’t worry about things you can’t control.

I love the Serenity Prayer. 

God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

The courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

I have a friend who just says, SEP.  Someone Else’s Problem.  I will never be able end wars, make national policy or thousands of other things.  So I don’t worry about them.  I can help United Way reach its goal, the Boy Scouts start a new troop, help develop land and infrastructure in Industrial Parks so hundreds of people have jobs.  Don't worry about Alabama’s football team, the coach isn’t going to call as ask for your opinion.  You can meet with the mayor and educate them on the importance of sewer in the town.  Work on thing you can change and let the rest be SEP.

Bob Rule #7:       Be aware of your surroundings.

Have you ever jumped in the ocean with a watch on and come face to face with a barracuda.  They like shiny stuff.  Just maybe that was a violation of rule #1.  You should away be aware of the conditions you put yourself or find yourself.  This applies in walking the streets of some strange town, driving down the highway or in dealing with a new client.  Often you need to rapidly adjust your position to make it to the next exit or level, but you have to be aware of your surroundings to know which way to adjust.

Bob Rule #9:      Always have your pocket knife.

OK, I stole that one from Gibbs Rule #9.  It is amazing how often a knife comes in handy.  If I have my pants on I have a knife in them.  

I am going to miss Ann

OK, I have too many friends dying.  One of the ladies in our church recently passed away after a long illness with cancer.  She was in her 80’s and had lived a very full life.  In our Sunday School Class we were discussing what we should strive to be like in the coming year.  We all agreed we should be more like Ann Self.  I had to share this story with the Sunday School Class.    

We were in the planning stages of building The Beacon a new multipurpose building at our church.  I was the chairman of the building committee and Ann was a member of the committee.  There was one church member who didn't agree with the project. Every time we turned around they had thrown up a new road block. I was on the verge of going and punching their lights out. Anne recognized this, made me a voodoo doll of this person and gave me a box of pins to stick in the doll. So told me to imagine all the pain this person was having every time I stuck in a pin. I had tremendous satisfaction every day when I inserted pins into knees, hips, elbows and head.  She helped me get thru a challenging time and have some fun doing it. It was a great life lesson.

She probably generated more excitement about the project than anyone else in the church.  She was one of those people who was always smiling and faced the world with a positive attitude.  I will never forget her and my voodoo doll.