Marshall Ramsey

Daniel Frankin Jr. sat looking at an older version of himself.

“Hello Danny,” he said as the old man sipped his soup from a bent soup spoon.

“Oh hello. When did you get here? You remind me of my son. Did you know I have a son?”

Danny Jr. looked at this father and felt his eyes sting. This trip never was easy. But over the past few months it had gotten infinitely more difficult. It had started slowly — like a record skipping. But recently it had sped up. Especially since Danny Sr. had moved out of his home and into the Alzheimer’s Ward in Golden Memories Nursing Home. He had threatened a neighbor with a gun. Now Danny Jr. had to come visit his father here. Golden Memories Nursing Home. The irony was painful.

“I don’t want to lose you, Dad. Especially when you are alive.”

“Did you say something young man?” Danny Sr. spoke as he took another sip of his soup.

“No, Dad…..nny.”

The older man smiled. He was at peace. Dust particles danced around him in the sunbeam shining through the slightly parted curtains, making him look almost angelic. The room was nice enough. It was dressed in late 1990’s decor with lots of cheap plastics and tan paint. Over on the nightstand was a picture of Danny Jr’s Mom from the early 1960’s. He looked at her eyes. She still had those beautiful eyes. Eyes that had been bloodshot a lot lately.

“Have you had the soup?” Danny Sr. was good at chit-chat. In fact, he was a master. It was the details that tripped him up.

Danny thought about the times they had spent together. The trips fishing. The times they worked on cars. The times he coached his baseball games. As dads went, Danny had always said he had won the Dad Lottery. Now all his winnings were being stolen by an unrelenting thief.

“And who are these two fine gentlemen?” Danny Sr. looked at the two brown-headed boys in the doorway. He put down the soup spoon and adjusted himself in his chair.

“A couple of your biggest fans.”

“I have fans? Well today is my lucky day.”

Danny Jr. watched as his boys hugged their grandfather. And it was at that moment, he realized our truly valuable possessions are the memories that we make over a lifetime.

Danny Jr. sighed. He was losing Danny. And that was a terrible price to pay.

Four morning’s a week, I participate in Paul Lacoste’s 12-week boot camp at Madison Central High School. It’s usually five or six sessions for an hour that work different parts of your body, depending on the day. Today we went into the weight room for one of those sessions and found big rubber bands hanging from the squat racks. We had never seen the rubber bands before.

We have a new coach, Neil who is a combination human dynamo and motivational quote generator. He had us doing shoulder and back exercises with the rubber bands. While didn’t initially seem like it would be tough, I am now sufficiently sore.

When it was my turn to do the rubber band, Ray, who I really respect as an athlete, said, “Sure is hard, isn’t it?” I blurted out, “Yeah, because I had that side of my back removed when I had cancer.”

He felt bad — which was not my purpose. Neil said that I was an inspiration because I was there. I’m not.

But I am there because I want to live. I have been given a second chance and I am taking care of my body.

I feel bad I even mentioned it. My scar isn’t a handicap. It’s a badge of honor. I’m proud of it and am stronger because of it. It’s not an excuse. It’s an opportunity.

The next time I do the rubber band, I’m going to work twice as hard at it. If I ever am an inspiration, it will be because what I do with my life. Not what happened to me.

You know a dream is like a river
Ever changin’ as it flows
And a dreamer’s just a vessel
That must follow where it goes

It was 1991 and my Sports Walkman blared Garth Brook’s song The River. I was a recent graduate of the University of Tennessee and wasn’t where I wanted to be. Little did I know, though, I was where I needed to be. I was a custodian at Pope High School. And I had bathroom duty.

I walked down the 400 hall to the men’s room pushing my mop bucket. I had already cleaned my classrooms — I always waited until the end of the evening to clean the bathrooms. (Didn’t want someone using it after I had cleaned it.) I looked at my watch: It was 10:30 p.m.

I will sail my vessel
‘Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I’ll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
‘Til the river runs dry

I was fortunate, the 400 hall bathroom at Pope High School didn’t get as much use as the 300, 200 and 100 hall bathrooms. And it was a boy’s bathroom, so (I know this will come as a shock) it was cleaner. No hairspray. No lipstick. No other yucky things.

There’s bound to be rough waters
And I know I’ll take some falls
But with the good Lord as my captain
I can make it through them all…yes

I walked in and saw that someone had stuck a textbook in the toilet and had pooped on it. (Yes, I have a young child). My friend Maggie still laughs at how loudly I cursed. I screamed profanity at the top of my lungs. I was mad. How could some little #$% be so inconsiderate? Who in the $#%# thought this was funny. And I really think that was when my attitude was at its lowest.

I cleaned up the mess and finished the bathroom and walked outside, trying not to gag.

“What the hell am I doing here?!?” I thought as I gasped for breath. “Why?”

I’ll tell you why. I was there to learn a lesson. I was there to be taught the difference between dreaming and making a dream a reality. It was at that moment I decided that I didn’t like cleaning crap out of a toilet. It was that moment I decided to start chasing my dream — and catching it.

I went to church that weekend and the preacher taught the parable of the Talents. I realized I was the servant who was wasting his talent. I came back that Monday with a new attitude and it changed my life forever.

Being a Pope High School custodian may not have been the best job I’ve ever had. But it sure was the most important. I had to work there. Not only did I work with amazing people, meet my wife (through her mother) and land a job at the local paper, but I discovered the importance of hard work and a good attitude.

I still listen to Garth’s The River (on my iPhone not Sports Walkman) and smile. Because I am still chasing my dreams. It takes me back to that 400 Hall bathroom where my career started.

I will sail my vessel
‘Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I’ll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
‘Til the river runs dry.

I’m not a Mississippi State or Ole Miss grad, but I’m thrilled that Mississippians are #1 and #3 in a poll that doesn’t involve something bad like obesity, diabetes, heart disease or ear mites. Yup, two of our schools are atop the College Football world. And we’re playing with and beating the big boys.

It has been a big win even off the field. The recent publicity has shown people around the country that we aren’t a bunch of cross-burning, knuckle-dragging, illiterate losers. (Well a couple of us are, but that’s everywhere.) They’re meeting many of our colorful and talented residents. College GameDay has been here so often they qualify for in-state tuition. You can’t buy publicity like that. But you want to know what I really love?

Mississippi State and Ole Miss are proving that you don’t have to be the richest or biggest to succeed.

They’re showing that talent and hard work do matter. Mississippi has deep, rich fertile soil when it comes to potential. What we sometimes lack is believe we can do amazing things. Congratulations to Coach Dan Mullen and Hugh Freeze for creating that belief. Success begins between the ears.

Now I hope it spreads to beyond sports. I crave being #1 in polls like “Education,” “Health,” “Jobs,” and “Wealth,” too. Because winning is like bacon — it makes everything better.

I know, it sounds like a dream. But where were Mississippi State and Ole Miss just a few short years ago? Anything is possible in football and life. You just have to believe.

The world was painted with shades of blue and black. The moon illuminated my running path as I lumbered down it this morning. I had forgotten my headlamp and was probing my way through the darkness. I came to a dark lump and slowed. It looked like an alligator. A big alligator.

Crap.

I approached it slowly. It did not move.

I slowly worked my way around it. It still did not move.

When I was past, I turn around and noticed it still was sitting put.

I have seen two other alligators while running recently. Alligator #1 was an eight-foot alligator that was sleeping on the shore near the running path I run on in my neighborhood. When it saw that one, it shot into the water. I about shot my pants.

The second one was a couple of days ago. I saw one in the water and it decided to swim toward me (and then submerge). I ran the other way.

So that was what made this particular alligator seem so odd. The other two, well, moved. I crept toward it and turned the flashlight on my phone. The light revealed what my alligator truly was:

A lump of fallen weeds.

That’s what is so amazing about our brains. We take limited information and fill in the blanks with what we already know. I had seen two alligators and my brain created a third. We are overwhelmed by information and our brains work overtime creating the world that we take in. And sometimes our brains lie through their teeth.

It makes me wonder what else my brain is lying about. I saw my “alligator” after the sun came up and as I ran by it, I had to laugh.