Marshall Ramsey

People will fight you to the death to protect their own inadequacies and failures. And yes, I have a plank in my eye on this one. We all live in a dangerous place called a comfort zone and will build little forts to defend it (with great tenacity). Little forts built with blocks of fear. But forces outside of our control will destroy our forts. Or worse, the world will just pass us by.

A personal challenge for myself is to admit my own shortcomings and attack them head on, like a sailor daring to challenge the surf. My discomfort will be how I know I’m on the the right course. I pray for courage and energy to raise my sails and move forward.

I once knew someone who thought she was someone she wasn’t. She ended up alienating herself from even those who loved her the most because she was so determined to protect a false self-image. I’m not sure what caused her pain and broken self-esteem, but it ended up destroying her in the end.

She died alone defending her fort.

Instead, she should have used her great talent to sail into the open sea. The tragedy is that she truly could have been even greater than she thought she was — if she had just taken action.

She taught me a powerful lesson. I must check the plank in my eye and pull it out with all my strength.

It’s time to blow up my fort, move out of my comfort zone and set sail. I must make my journey one of serving those I love. Yes, I might get seasick. I might even wreck my ship. But it will be an adventure. That’s what what life should be all about.

“People are like oranges. You can tell what’s inside of them when they are squeezed.” Unknown

My favorite tweet from yesterday was from CNN’s Bill Weir. As his boat sailed past the owner of the Caribbean Club (scene of Bogey and Bacall’s “Key Largo”), he yelled out,

“You’re going to be back open?”

The owner, walking on his boat amongst debris, replied confidently, “We’re open right now buddy, absolutely. Anybody needs anything, come to the Caribbean club. We can take care of you. Also — all this stuff? It’s just material sh*t as long as everyone is alright. We can fix all of this stuff.”

At that point, Capt. Bam Bam (who was driving Weir’s boat) chimed in, “We’re going to rebuild and this sh*t ain’t going to keep us down for a minute.”

There wasn’t any victim-mentality going on there. They just got throat-punched by Irma’s wrath and were standing tall. No bitching. No whining. Just a determination to get to work and get life back online.

I learned more about how to handle a crisis in that 22-second clip than I have my whole life.

Nothing but respect.

Now I’m ready to vacation in the Keys and stop into the Caribbean Club. They can take care of you. And apparently, themselves.

College freshmen don’t remember 9/11.

I know, mind-blowing, isn’t it?

Sixteen years is a long time ago — but those of us who do remember it have burning scars today. I look at my “United We Stand” cartoon and see it yellowing and crumbling around the edges. It’s easy to say, “But Marshall, we’re not like that anymore.”

Maybe. Lord knows you can read social media and believe that. There are some yahoos who are screaming we’re headed toward a second civil war.

But I will say this: The lessons learned after 9/11 apply today.

The same courage first responders demonstrated on 9/11 was seen after Katrina. We’ve recently watched it in Houston after Hurricane Harvey. Florida is experiencing that now, too.

Strangers are helping strangers.

Sure, it sucks that it takes a disaster for us to realize we’re all in the same boat together. Yet we do come around. Yeah, there are a few a-holes who loot and scam the system. And yes, it is sexy to focus on them. But overall, we do the right thing. That gives me a glimmer of hope.

9/11 was horrible. But we came together as a country for a brief moment. That appeals to the cynic in me. And it gives me strength to cry BS when someone tries to divide us based on fear.

Never forget. But if you do, remember — when things get bad, we get good.

Watching the coverage of the horrific flooding in Houston is tough. But it also should be a reminder it has happened here in Jackson. The 1979 Easter Flood swamped Northeast Jackson, out Lakeland Drive and Downtown. Twenty-five inches of rain fell upstream near Louisville, Mississippi. A wall of water barreled down the Pearl toward the sea.

It crested in Jackson at 43.28 feet (flood stage is 28) resulting in $1.5 billion (in today’s dollars) of damage.

It will happen again. And with all the development our Lakeland Drive, it will be more catastrophic.

We watch the tragedy in Houston and know that it could just as easily be us.

It was five-dark-thirty this morning as I ran across the small bridge over the cove. The faint smell of skunk burned my nose. My senses were on alert — I was in no mood to meet Pepe LePew. Then something moved out of the corner of my eye. It was black! It was small! It had to be a….

I reversed direction quickly and bolted to safety.

But I had to make sure. So I quietly walked back toward the bridge. I saw the movement again but kept my distance. It was the small, black creature again. My heart rate raced — I had just missed being sprayed by a skunk!

Then I heard a meow.

It was a subtle reminder that our brains are liars and create stories on very few facts. I laughed, told Pepe’s girlfriend to tell him hello and I ran home (while looking for skunks.)