Morning remembrances...

“How can you say to a child who's in flight, ‘Don't slip away and I won't hold so tight.’
What can you say that no matter how slight won't be misunderstood
What do you leave to your child when you're dead?
Only whatever you put in it's head…”

- Stephen Sondheim:

“Into the Woods”

The first kid came jogging by as I neared the final quarter of my morning hour’s walk.  It was 06:00 and I was getting the exercise in before the ‘desert oven’ heated up.

The boy looked to be 10 or 12 years of age.  Noticeable was the ease and efficiency of his movement.  His feet hit the ground smoothly…heel-to…heel-toe; arms bent and loose, hands carried just about hip height…not much wasted motion.  In fact, I had not heard him coming.  An early morning run for this lone youngster.

As he got about 20 yards (18.2m) ahead, I heard the ‘flop, flop, flop, flop’ of another jogger coming up behind me.  I could hear his feet and his breathing as he got within 10 feet (3m) or so behind.  As he passed I noticed this kid was not quite so biomechanically gifted as the first.  In addition to mildly labored breathing and noisy footfall, one of his feet angled out just a bit and his arms were held higher and nearer his chest…this youngster was working.

Then came a young girl, another young boy and finally the last kid who was weaving from side to side on the jogging trail giving the impression that he knew he wasn’t going to be anywhere near the front, so he might just as well enjoy himself.  The only thing missing was him singing while he plugged along…that was okay, I had been humming for him.

As I got to the end of the road, to make the right turn toward my street, I saw the coach gathering the kids together, having them stretch and giving a ‘nice work’ pep talk.   

If I were to think about that group of kids jogging by me as a metaphor for talent, I would be that second youngster…meaning, not the gifted star who seemed to move by natural ability rather than hard work.  Not in the front…not in the back…an adequate performer, but one that did not have the leader’s horsepower.  In athletics, that was me.  Good enough to play almost anything well, but not gifted enough to emerge to the elite level.

When I was a youngster, there were times I felt disappointed and mildly jealous that some folks seemed to excel where I found myself somewhere in the pack.  For example, in my high school, we had a truly gifted athlete on our basketball team.  In the flow of time and space, I saw him as something I should aim to be better than and to overcome.  As it turns out, no matter how hard I worked, or practiced, I was never as good as, and certainly not better than, Joe.

Parents shelter and teach…

Once I expressed this to my father…you know, the unfairness of it all.  He thought a little and then asked if I looked like Joe – No!  Were my feet the same size? – No!  Was my voice the same timbre? – No! 

It did not take too many more examples for me to appreciate that Joe and I were nothing alike, and that it was a waste of my time to try to be like him!  In addition my father gently suggested if I focused my attention on trying to be someone or something I was not, how would I ever discover who I was and what my gifts might be?

My mother also taught me that it was not a disgrace to lose.  In fact, she reminded me on many occasions, winning was not the only reward.  She would say, winning at all cost often led one down a slippery slope of moral compromise, setting patterns of behavior that might be costly later in life.  She would say, the best lessons in life come from failing, for here is where the real insight comes…here is where one’s true character emerges…here is where one is forced to face the truth – whatever that truth might be.  She believed paying close attention to failure was the shortest pathway to success! 

Missing the win was not a bad thing…IF, and let me repeat for emphasis “IF” one gave their best effort.  The truth, of course, is that all of us are NOT gifted with the same capacities…no one brings the win in everything, NOR should they be rewarded when standards are not met.  Run the race – she counseled – in the arena I would find my place.

NO, losing was not a disgrace…the disgrace was NOT giving the best effort!  To my mother that is what counted.

Watching those kids on their morning run, reminded me of the energy and effort of youth trying to find its place.  I could almost feel that second kid’s effort as he struggled to catch that more gifted leader…I had intimate and similar experience.  More so, watching those kids on their morning run allowed me a lovely and intimate visit with the voices and loving spirit of my parents, who did the best they could to encourage their son, who with so little life experience, faced his challenges of that day.

Looking over my shoulder, I have found both pieces of advice to be true.  While I am still unclear of exactly who I am, I know how useless it is to compare myself to others.  I also know, from playing in life’s arena that my failures have taught me much more than any successes.  In fact, as my mother suggested so many decades ago…successes were born from failure.

She was right… in the end, my best effort is all that has ever counted.

- ted