What story of personal greatness, achievement or success would your co-workers or friends be surprised to learn about you?
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Mohamed Ali has nothing on me. He would often call himself "The Greatest." I must admit, as much as I admired him and respected his skills as a Champion Boxer, I soon got tired of hearing him brag on himself.
I wish I could lay claim to being the greatest or just "GREAT" but I'm not anywhere near it. That doesn't mean I have no self-respect or self-esteem. I'm big on me. I know where I came from and what I have achieved in life and I don't look upon any of my accomplishments lightly. I know the struggle involved in attaining success in any of my life long goals. I accomplished some of them and failed miserably at others but I exceeded my own expectations most of the time.
I've often laid claim to being a self made man. It wasn't formal education that got me to where I am today. I scratched and clawed my way up life's lengthy ladder. More than once I began where most working men begin, an entry level position and worked my way up through the ranks of two businesses and became a supervisor; a leader of men in the manufacturering world.
I have never been great no matter what that little trophy my daughter gave me for Father's Day stated. Instead, I was on my way to greatness at some point up the road. I ran out of fuel before I got to my destination. But, you know what? I think I've had a great life so far.
Recently I was waiting at a very busy intersection traffic signal. It is a well known delay area for anyone needing to proceed straight through or make a turn in any direction but the signal length for the left turn I was trying to make is infamous as the longest wait in town even when there is no heavy traffic flow.
I accepted the fact that it would be more than three minutes before I’d be moving so I allowed my attention to drift a little. Needing something to focus on I decided to count the number of drivers turning left onto Thomas Moore Parkway that had a cell phone held up to their ear. The first car that passed by had such a driver and that’s where I got the idea to gather some data.
You aren’t going to believe the results of my research; HEY! I could hardly believe it myself. Sixty-two cars passed by me in the inside lane; there was an equal number of cars passing by in the outside lane but I could only count one lane. I’m going to assume that at least 50 percent of the drivers in that lane also we using cell phones when they passed. I think it was a very conservative estimate considering the fact that EVERY driver in the inside lane had cell phones tucked up to their ear.
After that, I’m telling myself things are out of control. Kentucky had better not try to enforce a new law that prohibits cell phones being used that way while driving. It would be impossible to achieve, nor would it have a lasting affect or act to reduce such use. I know my fellow Kentuckians, they are stubborn as the mules their ancestors once used.
I swear and declare, just as my Appalachian cousins still do today; I just don’t understand what all those folks find to talk about that is so important they would risk their lives and mine to accomplish. After making my turn I was suddenly overcome with this overpowering uneasiness that had me feeling very insecure sitting in my own weapon.
You may already be familiar with six year old Connie Talbot and I'm the Johnny-come-lately. But...just in case you are in my boat, I'm making this introduction between she and you. I promise, she's really special and don't forget....she's only six years old and has some front teeth missing which makes singing lyrics plainly more difficult.
A while back, one of our neighbors lost their Boxer dog. She found a way out of the yard, under the fence and accomplished that in spite of the invisible fence; a poorly installed wire that was allowed to simply lay on the top of the ground instead of being buried as the manufacturer intended. It might as well not have been there in any location for all the good it did. The young female Boxer had become immune to the shocking collar’s affect anyway. She more or less came and went as she pleased.
Then, one day she got out and was hit by a car on this area’s main road.
The Boxer’s inmate, a Saint Bernard, mourned her loss. She was his playmate for several years and they seem to get along very well considering the differences in sex, size, attitudes and breeds.
Now, that Saint Bernard has a new playmate. It’s another female Boxer; she’s about twelve weeks old. All puppies are special; this one is marked differently. We watch as she grows and adjusts to her new surroundings. So far she shows no interest in escaping. That’s good!
I can’t explain why the scene I saw yesterday affected me the way it did but I was moved emotionally and stood gazing out our window as those two dogs interacted with their surroundings. I don’t know how you will be affected by it but take a look at this picture and get back with me if you want.
