-
Archives
- August 2024
- July 2024
- June 2024
- May 2024
- February 2024
- November 2023
- October 2023
- September 2023
- August 2023
- May 2023
- April 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- October 2021
- July 2021
- May 2021
- January 2021
- November 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
-
Meta
25 Days of Banjo: Day 5
Posted in Cartoon
Leave a comment
Five things I’ve learned from successful Mississippians
I hope you’ve had a chance to catch my “new” radio show Now You’re Talking With Marshall Ramsey on Mississippi Public Broadcasting Think Radio and airs on Monday’s at 10 a.m. I love it — partly because I work with a fantastic producer named Cherita Brent and the amazing Mississippians I’m allowed to interview each week. (If you’ve missed it, you can listen to it online by clicking on this link. )
I originally pitched the idea for the show because I believe in Mississippians. I know so many who’ve done amazing things — world-class things — and overcome some pretty steep obstacles while achieving them. But they’ve done it with a smile on their face and love in their hearts. They had a dream and pursued it. And I feel like that they need to be given the spotlight. I want you to listen and think. “I can do that, too.”
So after five months, I’ve discovered a few golden threads running through my guests.
1. They have a strong influence in their life early on — usually an amazing mom. Wyatt and Joel Waters have an amazing mom. So did Coach Antonio Wright. Keith Thibodeaux had the love of his family in Lousiana to keep him grounded during his time in Hollywood. Whitney Miller still bumps elbows with her mom in the kitchen. Kimberly Morgan and Kennitra Thompson’s family supported their pageant dreams. Paul Lacoste has a very strong family and the love of a lost brother burns inside him to this day. Mac McAnally’s mom made sure he took piano lessons and was surrounded by music. A strong support system counts when you are pursing a dream.
2. My guests saw a need bigger than themselves and pursued it. Paul Lacoste saw an obesity crisis in his beloved home state and vowed to fix it one legislator and teacher at a time. Dr. Bev Smallwood saw a need to heal others after her own personal crisis. Christy Henderson took her newfound love of riding horses and started a way to help kids with physical and mental challenges. Christy Dunaway took her “handicap” and made it an advantage by helping others overcome their disabilities. True success comes when you help others get what they need.
3. My guests have amazing faith. I’ve heard story after story from my guests where they’ve beaten the odds because of the powerful belief in their hearts. Regenia Sulton, Jean Jones, and Paul Ott all beat breast cancer (and complications from surgery). And all talked how their faith in God got them through the crisis. Kennitra Thompson, recent Miss Mississippi contestant and Stevens Johnson Syndrome survivor, not only beat the odds of survival but has gone on inspire others. Joel Waters survived third-degree burns and now inspires people with his faith on a daily basis. Keith Thibodeaux talks about how being born again literally saved his life from drugs and depression. Faith is the rock their dreams are built on.
4. My guests love what they do. Rick Cleveland, Matthew Guinn and Jerry Mitchell bring the world to life with their amazing ability to write. Chris Gill’s love of music allowed him to overcome a brutal car crash and its debilitating effects. Whitney Miller travels the world cooking. Dr. Bev Smallwood’s passion glows when she’s on stage speaking and helping others. Grady Champion’s passion is intoxicating and has driven him to the top of the Blues world. When you’re passionate about what you do, it makes hard work seem like play.
5. My guests have a positive attitude. Antonio Wright went from promising athlete back to promising athlete. He inspires others from his wheel chair. Joel Waters’ faith lifts those around him. Paul Lacoste’s enthusiasm for fitness is hard to escape. Kennitra Thompson inspires. Adjutant General of Mississippi Leon Collins has risen through the ranks because his attitude inspires his troops. A positive attitude is like bacon. It makes everything better.
When the “On Air” light goes off every Monday, I shake my guest’s hand and thank them for coming in. And then I’m darn thankful I’ve met them. The hour I spend with them changes me. It makes me want to be a better man. And getting to know them a little bit better gives me a template for true success.
Bonus Question: What do you think is the key to success?
Posted in Writing
Leave a comment
Gibson’s Gift
A father and son sat bathed in the glow of a large fake Christmas tree. It’s white lights bathed them quietly in its warmth. The little boy broke the silence and began to speak.
“You know that if you do the math, there’s no way Santa can visit EVERY house around the world in 24 hours.”
Gibson looked at his son Davis and shook his head. The kid was six going on 46.
“There are a lot of naughty kids, Davis. It cuts Santa’s workload considerably.”
Davis bought his dad’s explanation and went back to playing ZombieAttack on his dad’s phone.
But Gibson knew that his son probably would Google it later tonight. The Internet had sped up the death of innocence. His son could now be exposed to things he never knew about until he had joined the Navy. His kid could learn in three simple keystrokes what it took him three cruises on the U.S.S. Nimitz to learn.
Then his son dropped the big one:
“Is Santa real?”
Gibson remembered when he had asked his father that question. Of course, Gibson had been 16, not six.
“Do you want him to be real?” Gibson asked in his best lawyerly dodge.
“Yeah.”
“Then he’s real. If you believe, you’ll receive.”
Davis sat silently, trying to wrap his mind around his father’s answer. He wanted to believe in Santa and didn’t care what Jenny Franklin said.
Silence quickly returned and the Father and son stared at the tree. Gibson remembered lying on his parent’s living room couch and staring at their Scotch pine tree. It had red bulbs that burned as hot as the sun. How the house didn’t burn down was nothing short of a Christmas Miracle. Back then, it took forever for Christmas to arrive. But then again, Christmas vacation had lasted much longer then. Now he worked all the time. And that made time speed by as fast as Santa’s reindeer. College had been when he noticed time starting to fly. Now it was supersonic.
Davis grabbed a handful of sand dabs and drank some milk. Powered sugar ringed his mouth. Eating sand dab cookies was a Christmas tradition passed along from his grandparents.
Gibson’s grandparents. Gibson remembered waiting for them to arrive from Texas. He’d fall asleep on the den floor, hoping that would cause time to speed up so they’d get there a little bit quicker.
Time did speed up. And then it ran out.
“Dad, what do you want from Santa?”
“Socks from my grandparents, hand delivered.”
Davis patted his dad’s back. “Santa’s good. But I’m not sure he’s that good. Hey, you know that Rudolph’s on TV. Let’s go watch it together. I hear Hermie wants to be a dentist and and Bumbles bounce.”
Rudolph. At least some things never changed.
Gibson picked his son up and carried him into the family room to watch TV. As they watched the Rankin Bass classic, time ground to a halt.
And for Gibson, that was the finest Christmas gift of all.
Posted in Writing
Leave a comment
Motivating my motivation
Getting out of bed to run this morning probably sounded like ripping velcro. It took deep motivation to get my feet from beneath the warm covers and onto the cold floor. But I did it. And I had a decent 4.5-mile run.
At about mile three, I starting thinking about what motivates me. Now, you have to understand, I’ve struggled with motivation for years and have read dozens of books on it. What makes me tick is a complicated thing. I am driven by a deep sense of destiny with a healthy dose of insecurity. It’s a volatile cocktail that has propelled me forward in my life with a series of erratic stops and starts. By mile four, I had figured out that my motivation has gone through three distinct stages.
1. External motivation: This is where I’ve spent most of my life. I fed off what other people thought. My parents, my family, my wife and my bosses. I can tell you for a fact, when you’re getting love from people you respect, you feel like you can conquer the world. It’s a powerful drug. And I used it to soar to great heights. But what’s dangerous about it is when people you respect throw you under the bus, it’s devastating. So when it happened to me, I quickly had to find something else to keep me going. So I moved on to…
2. Internal motivation: Think Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. Self love (get your mind out the gutter.) Looking out for #1. Honestly, I think it’s OK to an extent. It’s the fire that gets me out of bed on the cold mornings. It’s the expectations that I can be more than I am that drives me to better. And it’s the high standards I set for my life. But it has limitations. If there is nothing bigger than yourself, what happens when you have a setback? What happens when you lose faith in yourself and your work? You’re left on the side of road with a flat.
3. Something bigger than yourself: This is the third stage and where I am most days. I realize that my talent is a borrowed gift and I need to use it like the blessing it is. I need to use my abilities to help others. And if I do, then I’ll be helped in return. I still use the first two forms of motivation — I want to do a good job for my boss for example and I have high self-standards. But the fire inside me is lit by something bigger than me. It’s the spare tire that keeps me going when the other two motivators go flat.
By the end of the run, I figured out this simple truth. What pushes me isn’t what others think or my own self image. It’s the fact that simply being alive is a gift. I’m motivated to make my hard work be my thank you note.
And don’t worry, I don’t normally think about such deep things when I run. I’ll probably just think about bacon and the plot Walking Dead tomorrow.
Posted in Blog, Fat-Fit-Fat, Writing
1 Comment
The Angels of 49
I had painted myself into a corner before I even turned on the car. I was supposed to be in Hattiesburg by 4 p.m. and it was 2:15. The only way I’d make Main Street Books in time for my book signing was for me to catch every traffic light on green. If you know Highway 49, you know that wasn’t going to happen.
I headed south. Quickly.
Around Richland, I noticed the range gauge on my dashboard. It tells you how many miles the car has left before it runs out of gas. It read only 90 miles. Not good. I’d have to stop. But I didn’t have time to stop. So I kept driving.
Surprisingly, I did hit more green lights than red lights. I made it to Magee (halfway) in great time. The car was getting nearly 30 mpg. I might just make it!
A loud pop under my car woke me from my delusion. “Great,” I thought. I had just gotten the car out of the shop (new radiator). Now something else was broken. Nothing seemed amiss, though, so I kept driving. Then I noticed my traction-control light was on. You have to understand, I am a bit skittish about dashboard lights. When my car was shot, the dash lit up like a Christmas Tree. Call it PTSD or whatever, my stomach sank and I panicked. I called the service department and asked them what it might be. Then I noticed, I was running low on gas. I was in the town of Seminary and stuck in traffic. (They’re paving 49 through there).
The service technician said it might have been a rock or stick from the road cutting the ABS cable for the anti-lock brakes. WHAT? That’s nuts. They then said I’d have brakes but no ABS. They had never heard that happening on my kind of car. YIKES. My head spun. Between a spinning head and road construction, I drove on past the gas station.
It’s longer to Hattiesburg from Seminary than I thought. My range rapidly counted down like some kind of twisted James Bond movie. 7…6….4…..3….2…..1….. By the sod farm on 49, it hit 0. No gas stations in sight. I was technically out of gas. But the car kept going. I cut the A/C and radio off. Anything to make it more miserly. Those were some of the loneliest moments of my life. I only had my own stupidity to keep me company.
I know from experience there is about a half of a gallon of gas in the tank when the range hits 0. That would be good for about 15 miles if the wind was blowing right. And 11 miles down the road, like an oasis in a desert, was a Shell station. I stopped, filled up and worried about my brakes.
I was already late to my book signing. Now I was worried about paying for a potentially expensive car repair.
When I started up the car, the light wasn’t on. I called the service department back. Maybe the rock had just hit the sensor, jarred it and it had reset when I started the car. Who knows. But even this morning it’s still not on. I pray it is the $1,000 miracle.
Distracted would be a good word for the book signing. I was worn out and my mind was all over the place, but I enjoyed everyone who bought a book and all the other authors who were there. (It was the 10th annual Author Extravaganza at Main Street Books.) Banjo had another good night and I called it an evening. Robert St. John invited me to eat with him and Wyatt, but I was exhausted and stressed so I decided to head back home.
By the time I got to downtown Jackson, my radio started skipping. The music would suddenly jump ahead like there were 30-second gaps in time. With horror, I figured out what was happening… I was falling asleep! It wasn’t like when you are sitting there and your head starts nodding. No, sleep was a silent thief, stealing my consciousness and pushing me toward death. I panicked but thankfully had managed to keep the car in the lane. Seeing a Ridgeland Cop running radar woke me up enough to get me home.
I was shaking by the time I pulled in the garage. I fell to my knees, knowing how damn lucky I had been.
The angels of 49 guided me last night and protected me. I am not sure why my car suddenly fixed itself. I’m not quite sure why there was a loaves and fishes and moment with my gas tank. And I know a guiding hand kept me alive when I fell asleep.
I took too many stupid risks last night. Stupid risks. I could have cost my family dearly. Please, the next time you take a trip, plan ahead. Give yourself plenty of time. And if you are tired, pull over. Because the angels of 49 can’t always work their miracles.
I’m just thankful they did last night.
Posted in Blog
3 Comments
INKSPOTS BLOG: Creating an Opportunity List
I hate “To-do lists.”
Don’t ask me why, I just do. I mean I just loathe them. They are stinky, annoying and are like fingernails on a chalkboard to me. Maybe I just find them “confining.” Maybe they stress me out a little. Yes, I know — I am one of those freaky people who gets uptight when I think about all I have to do.
Of course, not having a plan is WAAAY more stressful than having one. But I’m right brained. Something inside of my mind resists being organized. It was OK back in the old days when I just had to worry about being the best darn editorial cartoonist possible. My daily deadline provided my structure. Today, though, I wear many, many hats. I NEED a “to-do list” to act as an air traffic controller in my life.
I had a flash of inspiration this morning (yes, it happens occasionally and I don’t think it is gas). I’m turning my “to-do list” into an “Opportunity List.” Sure, it’s semantics. But it’s an important change of how I look at the things I do everyday.
I no longer have things to do. I have opportunities.
So starting today, I’m creating an opportunity list. And here’s what it will look like:
First, I list what the opportunity is. Say it is “Drawing a cartoon for Brad.” Then I list when it is due. I’ve heard that a goal without a deadline is just a dream. So I set a time due. Then I jot down a few words why it is important. The cartoon for Brad may pay money. It may get me exposure. Even if it is something as simple as “Cleaning the bathroom,” I can jot down, “Will make Amy happy and make house nicer.” This is the most important part — this is the “why.” This changes my mindset from “I have to work” to “I’m doing something to get ahead.”
Creating an “Opportunity List” also helps me filter out some of the stuff I am doing that doesn’t help me move forward. That’s an opportunity in itself.
This is a small trick to help get me organized. But it is a trick that will help me considerably. And I just thought I’d share it with you.