Marshall Ramsey

I’ve seen the word “fat shaming” thrown around a lot lately. One promise I can make you is that I won’t ever fat shame. The plank in my eye is too big. (come to think of it, so is my butt). I am currently 40 pounds heavier than I was when I got married. And three years ago, I was 50 pounds heavier than I am now. I had more rolls than a bakery.

I get the struggle.

And I know the odds are stacked against us. We live in a world of inactivity, food deserts and sugar in nearly everything we eat.

What I try to do is live as healthy as any middle-aged father of three young boys can. I post pictures of my runs and tell stories how I succeed and fail. I try not to eat junk — but at times fall to temptation. I have seen the future and I’m desperately trying to avoid heart disease, diabetes and another bout of cancer. I know a healthy lifestyle leads to a better life. My family needs me. And I need to be my best for them.

I want everyone to take charge of their health because I know the benefits are much greater than the effort it takes to achieve them. We all have to take charge of our lives because no one else will do it for us.

But making fun of someone’s struggle won’t help. I’d rather reach a hand to help instead.

Life had kicked Kyle Dryer hard and now he was trying to prop himself up with a bottle.

“Here’s to being a complete screw-up!” he drunkenly toasted the sky. The empty bar did not toast him back. Kyle Dryer was losing and was acting like it.

“My job is a joke. My wife is cold. My kids are screwed up. Thanks God for nothing.”

Ed the bartender wiped out the glass and stacked it on the bar. He had heard this speech so many times before. It seemed that every pity party keynote speech blamed the God.

Kyle yelled, “Give me another, bartender. And make it snappy.”

The bartender wondered some days if this was worth it. This was his second job — a job that helped put his special needs child through school. He felt his jaw tighten as he poured another drink. He felt like an enabler for fools.

“Here you go, Ace,” he slid the glass toward Kyle. “Enjoy.”

Kyle threw a fistful of dollars at the man. “No, you enjoy.”

“A-hole,” the bartender mumbled under his breath. No one enjoyed a pity party except the person throwing it.

But Kyle Dryer wasn’t an a-hole. He was a good man who had lost focus. He took another swig and looked up, “Why?”

A voice said, “to make you better, that’s why.”

Kyle swung around, looking for the voice. He couldn’t see the source.

“Oh, I’m here. Walk on over to my booth. We need to talk.”

Strange — the bartender didn’t act like he had heard anything. Kyle picked up his drink and walked over the corner of the bar. It was dark and particularly smokey. But it didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. In fact, it had no smell at all.

Kyle sat his drink down and tried to make out a face on the man. Nothing. A hand reached out into the slight beam of light and touched his bourbon. Kyle noticed it turned from gold to clear.

“Now, we can talk. I needed your undivided attention.”

Kyle interrupted by asking, “What’s your name?”

“I go by many names, son. Names aren’t important. Just call me a friend.”

Kyle shifted uncomfortably in the booth. The hardwood bench pinched his back. He had a feeling his pity party had just ended.

“Remember when you played basketball in high school and you almost got cut from the team?”

Kyle said, “How do you know that?!?”

The voice continued, “Did you quit? Did you blame God or anyone else for your problems?”

“Um, no.” Kyle stuttered,” I worked my butt off. I went to the gym early before school and shot free throws until I got blisters. I eventually made All-State and got a college scholarship.”

“How’s this any different?”

“This isn’t’ a game, that’s how it is different.” Kyle’s voice had a touch of indignation.

“Exactly. It’s more important. And yet, you are in here harassing my favorite bartender instead of doing what you need to do to make things better.”

“But this is overwhelming. I don’t know why so many bad things are happening at once. You’re so smart — tell me why.”

“Because like when you played basketball, I know you have greatness in your heart — that’s why. You must rise to the challenge. Diamonds are just coal without heat and pressure.”

Kyle looked into the darkness and saw his father’s face. And then his coach’s. And then his mentor’s. He then saw his wife, his child and his boss’.

“Yes, Kyle. We all are there to make you better. You can change the world. You just have to believe. And then do. Now go, son. Get busy. People need you. The hard times are what polish you. They make you great.”

Kyle picked up his bourbon and took a swig.

It was water.

“Welcome back, this is the Marshall Ramsey show.” It started as an average day on my afternoon radio show. It soon became one that I’ll never forget — for the bad and the good.

Four years ago today, violent tornadoes tore across the Southeastern U.S.. Now we’re used to tornadoes. But these were different. They were the Great Plains wedge-type long-track EF-4 and EF-5 monster beasts. While I was on the air, storms began to pop like kernels of corn in the microwave. People were dying in real time. And all I could was watch and try to give what warning I could.

As I walked out of the studio at 6 p.m., an EF-4 monster tore through Tuscaloosa, Alabama. It looked like the Devil himself was making a house call. The destruction across Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee looked like a bomb had gone off. The tornadoes left behind broken pines and broken lives.

Of course, that’s when “chainsaws and casseroles” kicked in. You know, that moment when you are pulling yourself out of the rubble and a church van pulls up with volunteers holding chainsaws and casseroles. Because when things get bad, we get good. To see the response in Smithville, for example, still warms my cynical heart. Four years ago today, so many lives changed in an instant. Four years ago, so many responded for the good.

Because that’s what we do. Oh, we have plenty of practice. But it’s comforting to know that when you have to pick of the pieces, you’ll have help.

That’s who we are. That’s what makes up special.

And we were reminded of that four years ago today.

I keep a car 200,000 miles. Sure, there have been random repairs, but for the most part, they run problem free. The secret? Maintenance. You have to maintain your vehicle. You can’t skimp on regular servicing. Because saving a buck today will cost you a small fortune tomorrow.

Of course, we’re quick to maintain our cars but then let our bodies go to seed. We eat crap, sit on our duff and wonder why when we hit 100,000 miles, we start falling apart. We end up eating a bowl full of pills and feeling miserable. And then we act surprised when it happens.

Watching my parents struggle with their health was my epiphany. I have their genes so now, at my age, I know it is time to act. The years are starting to move really, really quickly now and I know if I want to be healthy at 75, I need to invest in my health now. And of course as an added bonus, I’ll feel better today.

I exercise six days a week. I try to eat well and reduce stress. I do the little things that add up over the years.

As we watch our medical system change (daily), we all need to focus on preventive medicine. If an apple a day keeps the doctor (and the bill) away, I’ll buy a bushel. Gone are the days are being to run to the doctor for every sniffle. It’s just too darn expensive.

As I type this, my car is getting its oil changed. It’s at 115,000 miles and running well. My body also has about that many miles on it, too. My goal is to keep both for many years to come.

“Go turn on the water,” my dad instructed. Seven-year-old me ran up the hill, turned the knob and he hosed off the car (I am not sure why he didn’t buy a sprayer, but I digress). We did that same routine so many Saturdays in a row.

Dad was the Master Car Washer. I was his apprentice.

By the time I was 13, I had my own car-cleaning business. A clean car meant a happy Marshall. Then as an adult, I kept the same routine up — every Saturday, I’d scrub both of our cars.

Life got busy and my routine was disrupted. By the time our first child was born, Amy didn’t want me out there washing the cars on Saturday. She wanted me to help with the baby. The life got busy. And busier. And then insane. And the cars got dirtier. Every once in a while, I’d even cheat and run through the car wash. The car was clean. But I felt dirty.

Today my youngest and I washed the cars. I watched as he sprayed me, the car, the house and anything else that did and didn’t move. I called up dad to tell him. I hung up and smiled.

Like Darth Vader once said, “Once I was the apprentice, now I am the master.

Today’s a very busy day and I thought about praying for a miracle to get through it. But then I realized I got one already. In fact, I got several. I traveled through the air at over 400 mph to a funeral and back yesterday. I arrived safely. I woke up today and was able to hug my boys this morning. Miracles happen every single day. Sometimes they aren’t what we’re looking for necessarily. But they’re there. And they are no less amazing. 

Nearly 10 years ago, Katrina crushed the Mississippi Gulf Coast. And it wasn’t just the wind that smashed us. The storm sent in a massive storm surge, drowning the coast for nearly a mile inland. The wall of water was 30 feet in places. It was our own tsunami and it was deadly. When the water came in, it looked harmless enough. Wave after wave washed onto the shore. But unlike normal, the waves never went out. Water piled up. Soon, life changed forever.

Life’s like that sometimes, too. Bad thing after bad thing happens and your seawalls, like family, savings, etc., start to break apart. Soon you are left to tread water.

At that point, it is tempting to become a martyr. Being a martyr is more addictive than cocaine or sugar. You get the emotional rush of people saying, “poor you.” I’ve seen it in politics (recently). I’ve seen in the workplace. People who lose an election or lose their jobs fall into the trap of thinking, “Poor little me.” And then they become a victim.

But being a victim gives the person who screwed you over the power. Do you really want that? And at the end of the day, are you better off? No. You aren’t one step closer to solving your problem. So you lost the election. Learn from it and win the next one. So you lost your job. Get busy and find another one. So life handed you crappy hand of cards. Play them the best you can.

How do I know all this? I’ve been a martyr before. And it did me no good. None. Not until I refocused myself did I begin to succeed. People like to see you succeed. They know your story. They know things are tough. What they want to see is you overcome your woes.

They want to see how much fight you have in you. They want to see how well you swim when the life’s water comes in.

A few thoughts on a busy Wednesday.

1. Somewhere someone is more passionate than you.
2. Somewhere someone is outworking you.
3. Somewhere someone wants it more than you.
4. Somewhere someone cares more than you.
5. Somewhere someone needs you.
6. Somewhere someone will be inspired by you.
7. Somewhere someone has faith in you.
8. Somewhere someone is pulling for you.
9. Somewhere someone is in pain.
10. Somewhere someone will be comforted by you.

I got sucked into a Netflix documentary about how Vikings made their amazing swords. They had forging technology that was waaay ahead of their time and had swords that made them powerful warriors. I watched as a man recreated how the Vikings forged their swords. I was mesmerized at the how the pounding, the heat and the pressure turned crude iron into nearly indestructible steel.

It’s easy to apply that metaphor to human development. Learn about the training Navy SEALS go through and you’ll see forging at its finest. But I wonder why some people crumble under the pressure and heat and others emerge like a Viking sword. What is it that makes the difference?

For me, I try to look for the good and take things one step at a time. I believe that the worst moments are the seeds for the best. That’s a philosophy that keeps me moving when I know I should stop. It gets me through the tough times. I also train hard in the morning because I believe that a good physical beat-down prepares me for the day. But you have to have a goal first. You can’t take a beating just for a beating’s sake.

So to answer my own question, I think what makes the difference is having a purpose bigger than yourself. You have to have a reason for living. That’s what gets you through the heat and the pressure of your forging. It’s the what turns your iron into steel.

Enjoyed an intriguing interview with cardiologist and nephrologist Dr. Olurotimi Badero on my radio show this morning. Dr. Badero, a native from Nigeria, was named the top student in Nigeria. He has studied at NYU, Emory and Yale. He is an accomplished oil painter, too. But he told me something his father told him that really stuck with me. He’d bring home 98’s from school and his dad said, “Don’t go by the standards of your school. They may not be good enough. You need to create your own higher standards.”

Wow.

Create your own higher standards. Don’t just play by the rules. Make better rules. And the strive to top them.

Obviously he has. I caught my reflection in the studio glass and I thought, “What about my own standards? What can I do better.”

Thank you Dr. Badero for being on the show today. Thank you for your medical service to Mississippi. And thank you for giving me a little bit in our interview that made me be a better than I am today.

I’ll post a link to the interview as soon as it is online.