Show me the Heart: A lesson from Jerry Maguire

Posted on October 9, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Last night, Amy, my family and I watched the movie Jerry Maguire. Written by Cameron Crowe and staring about every famous person from the 1990s, Jerry Maguire is the story of a sports agent (Tom Cruise) who, after suffering a mild breakdown, comes up with a new philosophy of doing business. His middle-of-the-night, 24-page mission statement said basically this: Less clients, less money and more personal attention. Of course, being the 1990’s and being professional sports, he was fired. He lost all his clients but one, Cardinals receiver Rod Tidwell (Cuba Gooding, Jr. in his Oscar-winning performance). Anyway, if you want to know all the details, it is a worthy rental. It features sharp writing, good acting, a strong soundtrack and cool 1990 technology (huge cell phone, clunky laptop and a trip to a copy shop to hand out his mission statement instead of just emailing it.).

You’ll also find out a human head weighs eight pounds.

But there was one scene that really jumped out at me. It was when Jerry Maguire confronts Tidwell about why he is not more successful. Here’s what he had to say:

Jerry Maguire to Rod Tidwell: “All right, I’ll tell you why you don’t have your ten million dollars. Right now, you are a paycheck player. You play with your head, not your heart. In your personal life, heart. But when you get on the field it’s all about what you didn’t get. Who’s to blame. Who won through the pass. Who’s got the contract you don’t. Who’s not giving you your love. You know what, that is not what inspires people. That is not what inspires people! Shut up! Play the game, play it from your heart. And you know what, I’ll show you the kwan. And that’s the truth, man! That’s the truth. Can you handle it? It’s just a question between friends, you know. Oh, and when they call you ‘shrimp,’ I’m the one who defends you!”

That hit me like a lightning bolt from the sky. How many times have we done a job for the money? Or worried what someone else is getting that you aren’t? We focus on how unfair something is or how we don’t want to be working hard. But we don’t lead with our heart. Are we sullen, unwilling to try new things or uncooperative? Are we unwilling to change?

I’d post the link to the scene but it has a little bit of profanity in it. But honestly, it’s worth you seeking out on YouTube. Like Jerry McGuire’s mentor Dicky Fox would say, “If this (points to heart) is empty, this (points to head) doesn’t matter.”

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An Open Letter to Tropical Storm Nate

Posted on October 5, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Dear Tropical Storm Nate,

I just saw your updated travel itinerary and it looks like you’re dropping by here for a visit — as in, “we’re under a Jim Cantore Warning!”

Not good.

I know, I know — your plans could change at the last minute but the cone of uncertainty seems pretty certain. Mississippi has a big “kick me Nate” sign on its back. You’re the biggest test the Gulf Coast has faced since your evil great grandmother Katrina kicked us in the teeth.

You’re not welcome here.

Nate, I knew Katrina and you’re no Katrina — and I hope you stay that way. But I know that there is a threat that you could get delusions of grandeur and grow strong. Warm water is your fuel and the Gulf is as warm as pee in a hot tub.

Did I mention you’re not welcome here?

I will take some basic precautions to get ready for you. The Big K was 12 years ago, but I still have a very fresh memory of my trees doing the hula. And no power when it is hot really sucks. That wasn’t much fun.

I know it is October, but I am not ready for any trick or treaters. If you come to my house, I’m giving you a rock.

I’m not panicking Nate. I’m just getting ready for your visit.

So take your time. No better yet, go to Hell. We don’t want you here.

Marshall

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Prove a Mayan wrong

Posted on October 4, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

The world was supposed to end on my birthday. You know — the Mayans and their calendar. December 21, 2012 to be exact.

Kaput. Kaboom!

Obviously, it didn’t. We’re still here complaining on Facebook about the world. But you have to wonder — did the Mayans mean something else? It seems like everything is out of synch. Like someone took a plugwire off existence’s engine. We’re sputtering and backfiring. The world seems to be getting coarser and meaner.

Of course, the world has always been coarse and mean. World War 2 wasn’t exactly a bucket of chuckles. And the Black Plague. I could fill the page with moments in history that are worse than what we’re going through right now.

So why does’ it seem so bad? Here are a few of my thoughts.

There are more of us. The earth’s population has exploded. If you don’t believe me, drive in Atlanta at rush hour. There has to be a billion people on I-285. We’re crowded and we’re up in each others’ grills.

We are now better connected. People have always gotten cancer, had heart attacks, been in car wrecks and suffered other horrible calamities. We now have a voyeur’s front row seat. Facebook allows us to be connected — for better or worse. We know what people are going through. That can be good — and it can also wear us out.

The Internet has disrupted so many of our institutions. Historians will look back and find the times we live in to be as epic of a change as say the Industrial Revolution. Media, music and video have all been affected and are having to reinvent themselves on the fly. People get their information from different sources. Fake news is real and I’m not talking about news a politician doesn’t like. People can now bask safely in news bubbles; it’s a mental comfort zone if you will.

So many of our institutions have failed us. Look back to 2008. The banks failed. The long-standing tradition of buying a home and having it be your financial nest egg failed. Churches have had scandals. Government is, well, government. Monied interests are getting heard as the middle class dies out with a silent scream.

A lot of us (me included at times) did not learn good coping skills growing up. Our grandparents ate dirt and fought a World War. We complain on Facebook (in Facebook’s defense, we also post great pictures of puppies and kitties.)

Whew, I know — not exactly a perky post. I’m sorry. But here is the thing. WE can make a difference. My family has had to face some things that frankly, I’d have preferred not to deal with. But while I can’t control that, I can control how I react to everything. It’s hard to get up and run when you’ve been knocked down. But that’s what life is about. Next time you walk down the sidewalk, take a close look at the weed that has punched its way through the concrete. The will to live is strong in us. We have to set it free.

Change is hard. I know. I’m having to change even as I write this. But if we remember there is something bigger than us out there, that this isn’t always about ourselves, that we can help others and receive what we need — well, that change will seem less frightening.

Oh yeah, and for Godsakes, laugh. And love. At the end of the day, that’s the ultimate cure for it all.

Just go out and prove a Mayan wrong, OK?

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The New Abnormal

Posted on October 3, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Before the U2 concert in New Orleans, a sea of people swarmed around the Superdome. The large crowd pushed its way toward the entrances and security. It was humanity’s version of a kicked-over ant hill — men, women and children alike buzzed around with excitement. The lines for security had cause choke points, causing people to spill out on the plaza.

I got an uneasy feeling.  What if someone started shooting?  It was a classic soft target.

If it had just been me, I probably wouldn’t’ have had my Spideysense go off. But my family was there. I was reponsible for their safety, not just my own.  I looked around and tried to concoct an escape plan. Once I thought I had one, I closed my eyes, took a breath and eased into the security line.  We, of course, made it home safely.

A week later, Amy (my beautiful bride) and I were sitting in Thalia Mara Hall, waiting for the band The Avett Brothers to play.  Once again, my mind got the best of me as I scoped out the room for escape routes.  There was an exit to my left.  It would be the easiest way out. But what if there was a second shooter waiting outside? Once again, I took a deep breath, calmed myself and enjoyed an amazing show.  And yes, we once again made it home safely.

Sunday night in Las Vegas, 59 concert goers (at this writing) did not make it home safely.  A crazed lunatic decided to lock himself into his 32nd-floor Mandalay Bay hotel room with a cache of weapons that would be envy of a small army.  He began to fire his automatic weapons into a sea of humanity who had just began to enjoy a Jason Aldean concert.  With a sickening rat-tat-tat-tat that sounded more like Afghanistan than America, the slaughter began.  Over 20,000 people found themselves sitting ducks in a killing field.  On Monday, I listened to so many survivors tell their death-defying stories. One thing they had common, there was a randomness to their survival.  To the front of them, a woman would be shot in the head. Next to them, a man in the back. Panic ensued as blood soaked the ground that had previously been a place of joy and entertainment.

To quote Bernie Taulpin and Elton John, “It’s funny how one insect could damage so much grain.”

According to an article in Business Insider, your odds of dying in a mass shooting (four or more dying) are 1 in 15,325.  Those are normally very good odds (you risk a 1 and 7 change of dying of heart disease)  But mass shootings are happening more often. And they are getting more brutal.  Our repeated “Thoughts and prayers” are turning into thoughts of “what I would do if someone starting shooting?” and prayers pleading “please let me survive”

We can’t sit at home because of a handful of shooters. But we now have to do like I did at the concerts.  We look around. We assess the threat. We make escape plans in our heads. We teach our children what to do in case of a shooting like we were taught “stop, drop and roll”for fire safely. Do we run or do we shelter in place? Our lives have changed forever.

We now sit in a public place and wonder if some nut will start firing.

It’s the new abnormal.

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The Prophecy of the Broken Down Car

Posted on September 29, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

“The three givens in life: Death, taxes and a broken down car on the side of I-55 in Holmes County.” Sparky Reardon

Angels are with me. And they guided me as I zoomed up I-55 yesterday afternoon.

So here’s the story: I was running late (as usual) as I drove to Booneville, Mississippi to be the speaker for the Prentiss County Development Association annual banquet. My contact had told me to be there by 5:45 — and my car’s GPS said I’d make with time to spare.

I felt joy.

And then I felt no joy.

The warning light lit up on my dashboard. It read “Emissions System Problem” as the car went into limp mode (it downshifted so it wouldn’t drive faster than 50. I put it in neutral, coasted up the off-ramp and felt my stomach sink as the car slowed. I turned off the ignition as my head began to spin.

What now?

One thing was for sure — I had become the prophetic car broken down in Holmes County that Sparky told me about.

I restarted the car. Light was still on. Damn damn double damn. Then I started to panic. How would I make it to Booneville (a three and a half hour drive)? I took a breath and started thinking about what I needed to do. I needed to call a wrecker. The folks at the PCDA. Patty Peck Honda. My wife. The car is out of warranty, so I started panicking about the cost. Then I took another deep breath to prioritize what I needed to do by what would take the longest. Number one was to get a wrecker on the way. I couldn’t get to Booneville without another form of transportation — whether it be a loaner car or our van. I called Patty Peck and told them what happened. Jennifer (my awesome service advisor) spoke to the service department to speculate what it might be. I turned on the car again.

The light was off.

Hmm.

I told Jennifer that I was going to drive it on the backroad to see if it would run. It did. No light. I called and cancelled the wrecker and had Amy meet me in Canton. The car ran smoothly and made it to Canton. Whew. She then took it to the dealer, got a Honda Fit as a loaner and headed home. I loaded books in the van and started the long journey to Booneville.

Did I make it? You’re darn right I did. I walked in right before it was time for me to speak.

Like I said, angels are with me. And they continued to be with me as I dodged deer on the way home. My head hit the pillow at 1:44 a.m. I dreamed of warning lights and deer.

I pray the glitch is nothing expensive to fix. But I am so grateful I was able to get the car to the repair shop without a $200 wrecker bill. And I am grateful I was able to honor my speaking commitment and the kind folks at the PCDA were so understanding. I’m also grateful that Amy was able to shuffle her deck around and let me have her van.

Have I mentioned I am grateful?

After I got the van, I passed the exit where I pulled off. Right beyond it was another broken down car — in Holmes County, of course. Maybe there can only be one at a time and that’s why my car mysteriously fixed itself. Maybe that’s part of the prophecy. I really don’t know for sure.

I’ll have to ask Sparky.

P.S. I spoke in the Frank Haney Union on the Northeast Mississippi Community Campus. One person told me that the spot was a few feet from where the dean’s old residence used to live — which is where Malcolm White grew up. I was on hallowed ground!

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Wear out. Don’t rust out.

Posted on September 28, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

I think I just finished the fifth week of this 12-week PLS bootcamp session this morning. I say “I think” because honestly, I don’t know. The 4 a.m. Wake-up Club is also the The 4 a.m. Memory Loss Club. Fatigue will do that.

The first four weeks felt terrible. This week, for some reason, I felt pretty strong. My body, as old as it is, responded and I’ve picked up some speed. Maybe it is because I’m inspired by my son’s running. Maybe it is just that my brain is finally getting out of the way of my exercise. I don’t know. But whatever it is, I appreciate it.

It’s nice not to nearly croak every morning.

I started doing PLS in 2012. I had run a marathon, had a job change and started working two jobs. I was exhausted, stopped exercising and began self-medicating with Coca-Cola. I went from 195 to 220 to 250 in a year. Paul Lacoste’s son went to my wife’s school and one day, he convinced her that I needed to do the bootcamp.

I did and for the first two weeks, I hated every freaking second it. I’d get up at 4 a.m. and would curse the world. I was so tired by the time I got off the radio every night at 6 p.m. that I barely could stay awake to drive home. But I did it — I kept waking up early and doing the workout. And soon, my body responded. Twelve weeks later, I lost back down to 200. I had energy again. I didn’t need to self medicate with soda. Today, I’m 220, but thin. My resting heart rate is in the 50’s. I’m in very good shape — Last Sunday, I ran nine miles.

The point of this is not to say “I can workout!” The point is, “you can workout!” — because I am a pretty awkward athlete. So if I can, you can. Trust me. You’ve got this.

My inspiration? My Dad. He waterskied at the age of 78. He died at 81. If not for the Dementia, he’d have lived easily another 10 years. He’s my inspiration. My goal is to continue to be athletic until the day I drop. I don’t want a slow decline. I’m sure you want the same thing. Exercise and a decent diet are so important.

If I live as long as my Dad (God willing), I have 31 years left. I have the choice about how I am going to live it. My choice is this: I want to wear out, not rust out.

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Taking it one day at a time.

Posted on September 19, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Just a few numbers to throw out at you:

It’s 97 days until Christmas.
It’s 242 days until my first child graduates high school.
It has been 158 days since my mother died.
It has been 441 days since my father died.
It’s 261 days since New Year’s Day.
It has been 315 days since the 2016 election.
I’ve lived in Mississippi 7,583 days.
I’ve worked at The Clarion-Ledger 7,582 days.
I’ve been married 8,816 days.
I met my wife 9,545 days ago.
I am 18,170 days old.

It is 93 days until I turn 50.

It is up to me to seize this day.

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Little tiny forts made of blocks of fear

Posted on September 14, 2017 by 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.

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A message for us all

Posted on September 13, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

“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.

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The Lesson of 9/11

Posted on September 11, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

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.

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