Marshall Ramsey

I pulled our silver Maxima to the hospital’s front door and put it in park. I got out to open the back door. My wife handed me our newborn son and I gingerly put him into the car seat. “I sure hope I installed this darn thing correctly,” I thought as I buckled him in. Then I helped my wife into her seat and put her luggage into the trunk. I walked around the car and got in, turned the key and looked in the mirror.

There, turned rearward, was my son. My child. My firstborn.

I have never felt such euphoria and fear at the same time in my life. “What do I do now?” I thought. I looked right and left and right again as I prepared to pull out in traffic.

For the first time in my life, I was truly responsible for another human being. “Please don’t let me screw this up,” I prayed.

I drove UNDER the speed limit all the way home.

Fatherhood didn’t come naturally to me. Still doesn’t, to be honest. But I accept now that kids are tougher than I thought that day. I wish they came with instruction books stapled to their butts. They don’t. Each of my sons require me to be a different dad.

But my first son was my education. And 15 years after his birth, I think I figured out the secret — give them copious amounts of time and love.

I had all three boys in my car today as we drove near Dogwood. Traffic was horrible and I looked in my mirror again. I realized I had precious cargo in my car. I started to feel that same feeling again. And then I smiled.

If I could go back to that day when we pulled away from the hospital, I’d tell myself to relax and enjoy the ride.

Last night, I gave Northwest Rankin’s commencement speech. It was incredible honor and I really enjoyed the night. Here are a few quick comments from the night.

1. Twenty-nine years ago, I graduated from Sprayberry High School with Jo and Michael Hebert. Their daughter Lily was the salutatorian and gave a speech before mine — and knocked it out of the arena. It was one of those random moments of life that brought me pure joy. She’s a great young lady and has a bright future ahead of her. I was proud to be there.

2. I shook every graduate’s hand, looked them in the eye and said congratulations. They’ve worked incredibly hard for 13 years for that moment. I hope they remember last night.

3. Strangely enough, I really don’t remember my high school graduation. But last night triggered some memories. I think it was because the Coliseum reminded me of the Cobb Civic Center. And the ceremony was similar to ours — thus images started flooding back. And I felt sadness. This morning, I realized why. For years, I had been 100% Sprayberry High School. I was active in clubs, sports and proudly wore the name on jackets and uniforms. But on graduation day, it was over — and over suddenly. It was 28 years before I stepped foot back in the school to be in inducted into their Humanities Hall of Fame.

I am thankful for Facebook because I’ve reconnected with many of my old friends. But last night, I reconnected with my own graduation. I got home and cracked open my yearbook and cruised down memory lane.

4. I enjoyed the Northwest Rankin staff. Great folks and they made my experience a joy. Thanks go out to Principal Ben Stein. He’s a pro.

5. As I watched the parade of graduates, I realized my own sons will be making that march soon. I got home last night and wanted to hold onto them forever. Time is marching across the stage like the kids did last night.

6. Banjo was featured in my speech last night. I told them about his incredible spirit and how that spirit allowed him to survive against the odds. I also told them that my failures have been the seeds for my greatest successes. I heard some laughter and several of the graduates thanked me for the speech. No one fell out of their chair asleep. So it was a good night.

Cotton fields zipped by as our van’s stereo blared. My son, who plays guitar, could tell the difference between Eric Clapton’s guitar parts and B.B.King’s. “Lucille had a distinctive voice,” he said as we were driving down Highway 49 through the Delta. “And you can hear B.B. King’s whole life in that voice.”

I thought it was a pretty astute observation.

We had taken a guy’s trip and gone to the B.B. King Museum in Indianola. One son was reading “The Help” for class. The other was learning guitar. I couldn’t think of a better place to help my sons understand both. They could understand The Blues better and what environment gave birth to them.

B.B. King was born into a tough life. The Mississippi Delta was a painful place for him growing up. But like a rose blooms on a stalk of thorns, he took a guitar and created a piece of heaven on Earth. He conquer the shack he lived in. Then Memphis. Then the world.

And it’s easy to see why. Sure, he had talent. But he also had a world-class work ethic. He demanded his band live by his impeccable standards. That focus, that persistence, allowed him to break through barriers that would have stopped most people. He emerged from a world divided by racism and conquered it. Audiences from Indianola to Paris celebrated the man, his guitar and the beauty that emerged from both.

He’s gone now. Mississippi has lost one of its finest ambassadors. He showed that the best moments truly come from the worst. And he healed so much pain with his gifts.

I told my son that B.B. King died this morning and he was genuinely sad. Imagine that — a 12-year-old boy mourning the loss of an 89-year-old Blues legend.

That’s how special B.B. King truly was.

Tomorrow night, I have the honor of speaking Northwest Rankin’s graduating class. Two of my fellow Sprayberry High School classmates will be in the audience. Their daughter, a very talented and bright young lady, is the salutatorian.

It seems like a million years since her parents and I crossed our stage. Actually it was 29.

I have twenty years of mistakes and lessons to use for my speech. Amy asked me what I was going to say — I can tell you this, it will be fairly brief. I’m not the star of the show. The graduates are. But I want them to understand that they will fail and that the lessons gained from that failure are what plants the seeds for greatness. And I want them to understand the importance of heart.

I was most talented from my class. I think I’d be a bigger success if I had won most persistence. Heart is the secret to succeeding. Heart that leads to passion.

Passion is like bacon. It makes everything better.

Tomorrow night, I get to wear a robe and a funny hat. I’m looking forward to it, to be honest. I can’t wait to meet our future and tell them “congratulations” first hand.

H.O.P.E. defined.
Monday: H — Humor.
Tuesday: O — Opportunity to serve.
Today: P — Physical well-being

The sun peeked over the horizon, kissing the clouds and creating a red/orange blanket the covered that football field. But I didn’t notice. I was pushing a board to the 20-yard line and back. Sweat poured down my face and my heart raced. From 5 a.m. until 6 p.m., I left my fat and sweat out on the football fat during my bootcamp.

If this were a book, this chapter would be the longest. I can’t stress enough how important physical well-being is to your success in life. Virgil was right when he said, “The greatest wealth is health.” I realized that when my own skin tried to kill me.

Just remember this: If you don’t take care of your body, your body can’t take care of you.

That involves diet, exercise and stress-reduction. You can’t eat junk food and sit on the couch and expect long-term health. Eating a bowl full of pills isn’t a good solution, either. It’s expensive. And you generally feel like crap. And if you feel like crap, you don’t have the energy to achieve great things.

Personally, I do an hour of aerobic/strength training four days a week and aerobic exercise two more days. I rest on Sundays. I also try to eat healthy. At this point, if I eat junk food or fast food (the same), I feel sluggish and rundown — like I put sugar in my gas tank. Oh yes, then there is sugar. I’m addicted to it and have made a real effort to cut it out of my diet. That’s tough to do. Processed food is loaded with it. It’s in those delicious, fizzy drinks. I’ve tried to find natural substitutes. I keep apples or bananas in my bag and eat a little snack every two hours to keep my blood sugar even. Since I’m active, I seek out complex carbohydrates. They give you a more even form of energy because of the fiber involved slows your body’s release of insulin. I have self-medicated with sugar before when I was down. That is a huge mistake because the crash afterwards leaves you craving more sugar.

It’s a vicious cycle. One that once left me at 250 lbs. Today, I’m 210lbs. and eight inches smaller in the waist just from moderately monitoring my diet and exercising regularly.

Right after one of the most stressful times of my life, I got shingles. Then I got a melanoma. My body was telling me something! Stress kills your immune system and causes all kinds of problems from inflammation to heart and vascular damage. Our bodies can’t handle being in the fight or flight mode 24/7. We have to learn how to unplug and unwind — and I know that’s hard — I have three kids and eight careers! But exercise helps me some — and acts as a natural antidepressant. I’m also trying breathing exercises and meditation. Trust me, it’s not easy to focus in this chaotic world we live in. But just know your life depends on it.

None of this is rocket science. We know what we have to do. But sometimes, it feels awesome to sit on the couch and each ice cream. I think about the advice former football player turned actor Rosie Greer once gave about weight loss, “Instead of eating the whole cake, I eat one piece.”

Take care of your body so it can take care of you.

Right now Pip is lying against my wife’s legs. She’s smart like that; the dog knows who to suck up to. She is Amy’s dog. Or more accurately, Amy is Pip’s human. I am the person who scratches her stomach and feeds her. My boys’ legs are her chew toys. In an Alpha World, she thinks she is the boss.

It’s hard to believe she is coming up on three — the night she was born was a tough night for us. Pip and Banjo’s souls crossed paths on that fateful July night. He was going and she was coming. I think we thought he’d somehow slip a little bit of his soul into her.

Ha.

She’s too big of a personality to allow that to happen.

She barks at brooms, vacuum cleaners, squirrels and Moe the dog next door. And she barks loudly. You can hear her a neighborhood away.

I love the little brown dog. While Banjo was a muse, Pip likes to amuse. She sits on your head and climbs into the dishwasher. We probably should have called her Sassy. She yaps at us when she begs.

She’s 18 lbs. of attitude.

Jim Harvey allowed her to come into our life. Jim raises champion Border Terriers. Oh, he sent us a champ alright. Pip is a world champion — at least in her head. But don’t tell her anything different. She’d never believe you.

She’s my Pip. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.