Behind the Mike

For many people, the holidays are the most special time of the year.  For others, they can’t wait until it’s over.

Holiday depression is nothing new. For me personally, I love the holidays and I hate them for all the same reasons.  I love them because it’s a time for being with your family and loved ones.  I also hate them, because like so many people, I have lost loved ones this time of the year. That loss is only accentuated by the annual reminder of their deaths.

My mom died on my birthday, so you might say that birthdays are a bittersweet memory for me as well.  I relive her loss every day of my life in some way or another.  Like others who have lost special people in their lives, the pain never seems to completely go away, but the sweet memories of how special she was cleanses my soul and refreshes me to live my life like I remembered hers.

My dad died over the Christmas holidays so we are annually reminded of his passing as we usher the season in.  Again, when you pay such special attention to family at this time of the year, the accent is on how much these extraordinary  people mean in your life and how much you miss them.

In the end, one must look to the loved ones you still have and find a way to make the same kind of recollections for them to treasure one day.  My most special memories these days are the moments I spend with my precious grandchildren, Ava and Ashley.  If you don’t have grandchildren, adopt some.  They make you younger by just being around, but you feel older when they depart because they will wear you down.

We are blessed in our family to have my children and grandchildren close by.  I wouldn’t want to be a semi-annual parent or grandparent.

The bonfires I get to enjoy at my son Christopher’s house are so much fun.  “Gutt” as we affectionately call him and his beautiful wife, Viviana, are minutes away.  I nicknamed Viviana “bones” because she’s doesn’t have an ounce of fat anywhere on her body.  Gutt followed in his mom’s footsteps as a Registered Nurse and has loads of terrific stories about his exploits in an Orlando Emergency Room.  I treasure the time I get to spend speaking at my daughter-in-law’s classes at Neptune Middle School.

One of my twin sons, Jason, it a couple of hours away in south Tampa, but we still enjoy the occasional visit to his new home.  I enjoy listening to the trials and tribulations of his work as a molecular microbiologist with the Food and Drug Administration.  His wife Jessica, who I appropriately nicknamed “runt,” is a second year med school student.  Now I know where my long term medical care is coming from!

Jason’s twin brother, Cory, is a coach and a teacher. Like Jason, he also has his Masters Degree and has studied microbiology.  As a biology teacher, he enjoys bringing to life his many science experiments to dazzle his students and raise their awareness levels.

My favorite avocation of all is being the world’s oldest ball boy for Cory’s football teams at St. Cloud High School.  Cory and his wife, Casey, whom I nicknamed “mooch” years ago because she never passed up a free meal at my house, are forgiven any and all sins for the foreseeable future.  Why?  It’s simple; they brought to this world the most precious people in my life, my granddaughters Ava and Ashley.  I call them “hiyetti,” an Arabic word which roughly translated means “my heart… my life… the breath of my life.” Like Cory, Casey is also a school teacher.

The precious memories that my wife, Christine and I have with our children and grandchildren are what make Christmas the “most wonderful time of the year.” Those memories are a treasure chest which we continue to fill on a daily basis.

Don’t let the emptiness in your heart over the loss of a loved one get you down.  Start filling your own treasure chest with your own memories.  You’ll be glad you did.

Once a year (whether I need it or not), I accompany my wife for some Christmas shopping.  I would rather milk a cobra.

She shops; I buy. My philosophy… why bother to go to look?  My dear wife will go into 17 stores to price 100 items for a purchase she might make three years from now.    For Christine, it’s all about the “thrill of the kill.”  For me… it’s about the kill.  Buy the darn thing and leave.  Period!

In order to make deposits into the favor bank, I will occasionally do things that are totally out of character for me.  Recently my better half was down at the entrance to our subdivision decorating for the holiday season.  I don’t help her decorate my own home; why would I decorate the front area?

I suppose a twang of guilt which is normally a foreign emotion to yours truly, overtook me. I stopped to ask her and her team if they needed a supervisor for the job.  I should have just kept on driving.  Instead, I got out of my car and began to hang garland and lights over the entrance.

Since I’m pretty much an idiot with anything mechanical, my buddy Paul down the street showed me how to plug in the lights.  Duh!  We then proceeded to collect the various beer bottles and other trash that seems to collect in the bushes that are in the islands at the entrance area.

Attention morons: the entrance to the subdivision is not the St. Cloud dump!  We collected three dozen beer bottles, most of which were Corona bottles, which can be returned for money!  Must have been a terrific party!

Long story short…if you don’t make some deposits into the “favor bank” you can never expect to make withdrawals at a later date.  So my obligatory neighborhood community work and annual shopping trip with my wife are complete for the season.

My wife is fond of saying that the neighbors don’t even know she’s married because I’m never around.  I didn’t realize I had to check in with the neighbors.

When my kids were younger, she would sarcastically hang the brochure with my picture on it on the back door and would tell the kids “If a guy comes to the door looking like this… let him in… he’s your dad!”

Yes, I travel a lot.  I have a trip scheduled to give a series of speeches to an international insurance symposium in Tehran, Iran next year.  Go figure; you wouldn’t think that Iran would be a destination for 1,000 insurance professionals from around the world.

Speaking in the Middle East has its challenges. For instance, if your passport has a stamp from Israel in it, many countries will not permit you to enter their borders, prompting many of my speaker friends to have multiple passports to enter certain countries.

There are passport issues, visa issues, international phone number issues and, in some countries, security issues.  My brother-in-law worked abroad for Fluor-Daniel and in many countries often had to travel with an armed body guard.

When he worked in Russia, the biggest challenge was finding a chicken that he didn’t have to butcher and dress before eating.  His biggest challenge in the Far East was getting from point A to point B.

My road warrior friends in the National Speakers Association and the Global Speakers Federation chuckle at my concerns.  They are used to dealing with these issues.  Many literally make their living speaking in venues abroad because the pay is much better, and people in many of those countries are starved for knowledge and most appreciative for your efforts to share with them.

I certainly found that to be the case whether speaking in India, Europe or other parts of the world.  The most surprising thing I have learned lately is the way my female speaker friends are treated in some of the same cultures that don’t treat their native women very well.

Many of my female colleagues have had exuberant praise for their hosts in those countries.  When you make a deposit into the favor bank, you have some currency with which to negotiate, whether it’s in your neighborhood or in a neighborhood in Iran.

It’s that time of the year with March Madness, the Masters, the NFL draft and the NBA playoffs just around the corner… a great time of the year for sports fans. It’s also a terrific time of the year for community “Spring Flings” all over North America.

This column appears in over 700 newspapers in 23 different countries around the world, many of which are kind enough to send me a copy of their newspaper for my litter box. I do read them and get a kick out of what’s going in my reading public and specifically around our country.

In my newly adopted hometown of St. Cloud, Florida we recently had our spring fling on the shores of East Lake Toho in downtown St. Cloud. I always enjoy visiting the beer truck. My wife’s favorite stop is the junk food booth that features such delectable items as corn dogs and elephant ears. No sugar there.

In Spartanburg, SC, they use their spring fling to promote their music and arts festival, two specialties of “sparkle city,” as I’m fond of calling it.

Tens of thousands of students have gathered for nearly four decades for a Penn tradition on the campus of the University of Penn in Philadelphia featuring concerts, arts and a film festival. Penn was founded by Ben Franklin.

The Cincy Spring Fling in Cincinnati offers much of the same with a big bash that culminates at the Coney Island Moonlite Pavilion. I always thought Coney Island was in New York. Oh well…

Most downtowns have ulterior motives for hosting spring flings, particularly in small town America. Just ask the folks in Jasper, Alabama where they block off the streets and encourage the merchants to stay open late in hopes of starting a tradition like those in other cities. Since Jasper is the county seat, it makes “cents” as in dollars and cents to stay open.

They’ve been at the Spring Fling business for some 35 years in Sacramento, California.

The University of Arizona claims to have the largest student-run spring fling carnival in the nation, attracting some 25,000 people last year alone. Their gig features the usual carnival rides, games, food booths and entertainment from both the University and nearby Tucson communities.

In Miamisburg, Ohio the arts and crafts drill coupled with a parade and the usual hot dog vendors draws nice crowds.

In Zillah, Washington they break out the fine wine for a weekend of tasting which begins at the Old Warehouse Event Center. A Classic Car and Bike Show brings collectors and enthusiasts. The day culminates with “dueling pianos”, barbecue oysters, prime rib, shrimp cocktails and much more. Make no mistake; it’s all about the wine!

The Spring Fling Hoop Thing in Montana has been going on for nearly two decades and it features (are you ready for this?) the largest 3-on-3 street ball tournament. From all I can surmise, big sky country is fed up with the snow and wants to get the folks out and about exercising and enjoying some physical fitness. Ballers of all age and skill levels come to strut their stuff.

In Providence, NC the locals use their spring fling to get donations to fund the Providence Fire and Rescue. Even today, many small towns across America depend on volunteers to staff their fire and rescue teams. Growing up in my birthplace of Lexington, SC, you were expected to volunteer for a tour of duty at the local fire department. I have a broken foot as a souvenir from my limited days as a Lexington firefighter.

Magic Hat is the theme of Salem, Massachusetts big Salem Spring Fling which abounds with (and we’re quoting here) an abundance of wine, women and song. They also brag about having the largest Toga Party in the world. How would you know? They call the event a Bacchanalia, which Wikipedia defines as a Roman orgy with forms of drunken revelry. Whatever you say folks…

The Urban Dictionary defines a Spring Fling as a casual relationship between two persons who are usually attracted to one another involving puppy love or just plain “hooking up.” I guess the folks in Salem have a hard earned reputation that has stood the test of centuries dating back to the Salem Witchcraft Trials of 1692. This is what you get when you mix witchcraft and orgies.

I’ll settle for a cold one from the local beer truck if it’s all the same to you. No problem… my sober wife is driving!

The holiday season is bittersweet. Some of my fondest memories surround Christmas and some of my saddest recollections were harvested during the season as well.

I’ve lost loved ones at this time of the year and the memory of those losses is refreshed every time I look at our Christmas tree. The pain has been replaced by pleasant accounts of my life with these people. Loss of a precious life, whether it is a parent, a brother-in-law, a nephew or an employee, is painful. Many times it doesn’t hit you all at once, but the cumulative effect revisits itself days, weeks or even months later.

Loss of loved ones is a constant reminder to us all that we’re just passing through and we should make the most of our brief tenure here on earth. Our presence here is but a speck on the backdrop of time. Treasure the positives as you memorialize those losses.

Loss of health and wealth can also be just as devastating but unlike the loss of a loved one, the lingering effects can be debilitating. Wealth is one of those things that can be relevant. You really don’t have any problems if money is the solution. You can make more money. You can’t always correct a health issue.

My Christmas gift to myself this year is to get new wheels. No, not a car, but a new set of hips. I used to chuckle at the thought of hip replacement surgery but when the pain you endure keeps you from sleeping through the night for nearly a year it’s time to seek a solution. Unfortunately, it’s raining on my family’s Christmas parade as I now have to cancel a concert appearance with the Osceola Singers and possibly several speaking gigs as well as the inconvenience to family.

The two irreplaceable qualities that professional speakers must have are their voice and their wheels. I can’t see myself delivering a keynote address from a walker or using a cane or being in a seated position, but it might happen nevertheless.

Comes now my seventh book. “It’s the Customer, Stupid!” (John Wiley & Sons) may be my newest and best way of dispensing information to my audiences. But for a book to enjoy success it must be sold and to sell it, you have to be out and about promoting the book on television, radio and most importantly in front of thousands of people in our audiences. Books are like life insurance. They aren’t bought; they’re sold.

It never occurred to me that I might lose my most valuable information disbursement vehicle, my voice and my ability to stand for hours at a time in front of an audience. But that’s what’s going to happen until the rehab is complete from the hip replacement.

The great thing about being a member of the National Speakers Association, the Veteran Speakers Retreat and groups like Toastmasters International is that you have a network of colleagues that can pinch hit for you and help you in times like these.

My dear friend, Jeff Slutsky, who co-authored “The Toastmasters International Guide to Successful Speaking” with me, lost his wife some time ago and called on me to go to Puerto Rico to do a gig for him, which I was glad to do for gratis. That’s what friends are for. I know I could call on him anytime to return the favor.

So Christmas is a bittersweet time of the year for me and the latest chapter in this seasonal interlude involves just a loss of health, not a life. Now is when you are grateful for your support systems like your professional colleagues and your family.

My fondest Christmas memory of all was when I proposed to Christine at Midnight Mass nearly four decades ago. Little did I know the turmoil that would follow that marriage proposal. Her parents announce to us that it would never last and that they were very disappointed in both of us. Don’t look now but it has managed to survive.

The best news of all, she’s a nurse. When you’re a cripple, it’s nice to have your own personal 24/7 nurse and the price is right. Too bad I can’t send her down to do my next speech. I guess you can’t hope for everything.

The holiday season should be joyous but so many folks are so ticked off about so many things nowadays that you get yelled at for offering a Merry Christmas to someone who wants to find a way to take offense. Get over it for Pete’s sake.

My favorite bumper sticker? “Dear Santa…. I Can Explain….”

I was stuck in traffic on my way to downtown Orlando recently and the car ahead of me had this bumper sticker on the back of it: To all my liberal friends: Please accept with no obligation, my best wishes for a politically correct celebration of the winter solstice holiday and a joyous recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year.

You might find this greeting card just as ridiculous: Best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most joyous traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, but with respect for the religious persuasion of others who choose to practice their own religion as well as those who choose not to practice a religion at all;

Additionally, a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the generally accepted calendar year 2010, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions have helped make our society great, without regard to the race, creed, color, religious, or sexual preferences of the wishes. (And then came the disclaimer).

[Disclaimer: This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others and no responsibility for any unintended emotional stress these greetings may bring to those not caught up in the holiday spirit.]

Everybody is so bent out of shape these days that you have to wonder if they do not need a shot of eggnog and some Wild Turkey.

Here are some suggestions on ways to lighten up this year. Instead of leaving milk and cookies for Santa, leave him a salad, and a note explaining that you think he could stand to lose a few pounds.

Two young boys were spending the night at their grandparents the week before Christmas. At bedtime, the two boys knelt beside their beds to say their prayers when the youngest one began praying at the top of his lungs. “I PRAY FOR A NEW BICYCLE…” His older brother leaned over and nudged the younger brother and said, “Why are you shouting your prayers? God isn’t deaf.” To which the little brother replied, “No, but Grandma is!”

Christmas humor is all around you if you will just keep your eyes pealed for it. Sign seen on a toy store: “Ho, ho, ho spoken here.” Or this one seen at a bridal boutique: “Marry Christmas.”

Outside a church: “The original Christmas Club.”

At a department store: “Big pre-Christmas sale. Come in and mangle with the crowd.” A reducing salon: “24 Shaping Days until Christmas.”

In a stationery store: “For the man who has everything… a calendar to remind him when payments are due.”

What if it had been three Wise Women instead of three Wise Men? They would have asked directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole, and brought practical gifts.

One evening, in a busy lounge, a reindeer walked in the door, bellied up to the bar and ordered a martini. Without batting an eye, the bartender mixed and poured the drink, set it in front of the reindeer, and accepted the twenty-dollar bill from the reindeer.

As he handed the reindeer some coins in change, he said, “You know, I think you’re the first reindeer I have ever seen in here.”

The reindeer looked hard at the change and said, “Hmmmpf. Let me tell you something, buddy. At these prices, I am the last reindeer you will see in here.”

And finally, here is a proclamation written by an attorney:

Whereas, on an occasion immediately preceding the Nativity festival, throughout a dwelling unit, quiet descended, in which could be heard no disturbance, not even the sound emitted by a diminutive rodent related to, and in form resembling, a rat; and

Whereas, the offspring of the occupants had affixed their tubular, closely knit coverings for the nether limbs to the flue of the fireplace in expectation that a personage known as St. Nicholas would arrive; and

Whereas, a most odd rotund gentleman was entreating the aforesaid animals by their appellations, as follows:

“Your immediate co-operation is requested. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen; and collective action by you will be much appreciated, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen”; and

Whereas, subsequent to the above, there occurred a swift descent to the hearth by the aforementioned gentleman, where he proceeded to deposit gratuities in the aforementioned tubular coverings.

Now, therefore, be ye advised: that upon completion of these acts, and upon his return to his original point of departure, he proclaimed a felicitation of the type prevalent and suitable to these occasions.