"You Don't Suffer Fools Well...."

I believe it is safe to say that every one of my bosses would agree with my first one in higher education when he said that I do not suffer fools well. While there are those who believe I should correct that problem, I look at it as more of my charge and calling. Particularly when fools impinge on the development and expression of the God-given talents of the people in my charge, or when their actions diminish the potential of causes larger than their own simply because of their narrow-mindedness and pettiness. There are fools, and there are fools. It is the latter that I have a hard time dealing with but quite easily hold in disdain.

Talent

I opened my fortune cookie tonight. It said something about a talent that is not shared is not really a talent. Kim opened her fortune cookie. It said the same thing. I don't believe in fortune cookies.

I do believe in talent, and the call, the mandate, the requirement that we share whatever God has given us as a gift or an ability.

While I consider the cookies and their messages, I listen to the works of Cash, Chapiin, Croce, Haggard, Jennings, Bare and more. I consider Weston, Whitman and others.

Sharing ain't easy. But it is not an option.

Ignore Your Self at your own peril

I sit here, Maker's Mark on the rocks on the desk, and Johnny Cash's "Hurt" playing, and I consider many things, not the least of which is my oldest son's finding his voice in his blog, my middle son's finding himself in his work and adventures, and my youngest finding himself (and his Self) at the doorway to manhood. I consider this collision of realities and inhibition busters and remember why it was that God gives me breath. It is not to be a paper pusher.

I've been listening to Johnny Cash, Tom Rush, Arlo Guthrie and Harry Chapin over the past hour as I scanned my book draft about being a father and a son. The strange brew, or stew, of the influences inspires me, or reminds me.

It reminds me; my sons remind me; the artists remind me; my frustrations remind me: Ignore Your Self at your own peril.

May I pour you a drink and we'll talk?

I shared stories with a group of people at a meeting today. The meeting was about work, and the stories about the boys, about lyrics and about parenting. Only then was I alive today.

Ignore Your Self at your own peril.