Mission Statements...sigh

For the past several months I have been involved in a mentor program through my church. I meet every other week with these two terrific guys who were assigned to me. It has been a great experience. In this effort, I have received invaluable assistance from the guy who is sort of in charge of the program. He is a volunteer, a successful businessman with an inspiring personal story, and he sends us a couple of emails every week to encourage us along in our efforts.

Well, a few days ago he sent us an email suggesting that we do something with our mentees which has suddenly become all the rage in the business world and elsewhere...crafting a personal mission statement. He laid out all the benefits of the thing, how it allegedly clarifies the mind, making it easier to make decisions about all manner of things, etc. etc. When I read the email, I let out an audible groan and executed a world class eyeroll at the exact same moment. Of course, me being me, I couldn’t just let it go...I just had to respond. I fired off an email of my own, communicating my distaste for the whole concept of a personal mission statement, as follows:

Ok, I will need some help with this one. I have always resisted this type of thing. I associate this sort of navel gazing with corporate types who are always trying to reinvent the wheel with the latest psycho-babble group think exercise. “Let’s write our corporate mission statement” sounds like practically the most self-obsessed, boring waste of time ever. On a personal, individual level...it seems a little pretentious. I mean, isn’t everyone’s “mission statement” pretty much the same?...Worship God, Use Things, Love People?  What am I missing here?

Many years ago, I got introduced to the world of “corporate buzzwords” by several speakers at conferences I was forced to attend. For a while the catch phrase d’jour was...The New Paradigm. A bit later it was...The Value Proposition. Before long, business English became this tortured tongue filled with airy phrases disconnected from reality, so awkwardly put together that nobody knew what the hell anyone else was talking about. This self inflicted Tower of Babble was soon followed by the latest craze...the mission statement. We were all assured that it was vital that every organization have one, that it be catchy, pithy and concise, and that its construction be done around conference tables after day long bull sessions with corporate psychologists and other hucksters who were making bank on this new corporate obsession. Then churches started doing it. And now, apparently, it has trickled down to the individual disciple level.

My biggest objection to this business is the fact that it seems self-obsessed. Don’t most Americans already spend way too much time thinking about nothing but themselves? This is just what the American church needs...every disciple with a slogan! When I think of what my PMS should be, I’m thinking that there is absolutely no way I could ever improve on Micah 6:8...

What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.

Yeah, I’m thinking that just about covers it.

But, here’s the thing. This guy who heads up this program? I really like him and more importantly, I trust him. Just because I have a personal problem with mission statements doesn’t mean that they are bad for everyone. Maybe my guys would benefit from this. I don't want to let my prejudices get in the way of something that might be very beneficial to my guys. So...I’m getting on board.

Wish me luck!

A Friend’s Pain, and Trump vs. Mueller

One of my best friends is in Ohio today, burying his sister. Several weeks ago she was given a cancer diagnosis. She made it a little over a month. My friend has two brothers and this one sister. His dad has already passed away, but his mother, in her 90’s, has lived long enough to bury a child. When I try to imagine what he is going through, I can’t. Thinking of one of my siblings passing away isn’t even something I can conjure up in my head. It would be like someone cutting off your arm, especially since I’m the youngest of four. They have literally been there for me for all of my life. So, all I can do is remember to say a prayer for him and his family at noon today.

Over the weekend, Robert Mueller released his long-awaited report to the Attorney General, who then released a summary of its findings to members of Congress. In that summary, the bottom lines seem to be as follows:

# The investigation did not establish that members of the Trump campaign conspired or coordinated with the Russian government in its electrion interference activities.

# Mueller’s report does not conclude that the President committed a crime, it also does not exonerate him.

# AG Barr and Deputy AG Rosenstein concluded that the evidence is not sufficient to establish that the President committed an obstruction of justice offense, noting that the government would have to prove a case beyond a reasonable doubt.

The Mueller investigation has been going on for almost two full years now. Long ago, it fell off my radar screen. I have lost track of the various players and indictments. Various commentators on television and the print media have largely followed partisan scripts when reporting on the interminable probe. Pro-Trumpers have downplayed every fresh indictment, and consistently called the entire investigation a fishing expedition and witch hunt being run by Democratic Party lawyers. Anti-Trumpers have talked a lot about the presence of smoke proving that there was an enormous fire in there somewhere, and any day now the President and his family were going to be frog-marched out of the White House in handcuffs. 

So, what’s my take?

My take is that the release of this report will change exactly no one’s mind about Donald Trump. Pro-Trumpers will be triumphant, crowing about vindication and how delicious it is to own the libs. Now, it will be the Trump-haters’ turn to attack Robert Mueller’s integrity. The new Democratic majority in the House will use their investigative powers to continue their own investigations into what they are convinced is Trump’s Manchurian candidacy. In other words...this will never end. 

One of the problems with the disappearance of the concept of absolute truth is that we as a society are no longer able to appeal to any outside authority. For Republicans the independent council wasn’t “independent” at all, but merely a tool of the Democratic Party to undermine Donald Trump’s election victory over the chosen one, Hillary Clinton. For Democrats, Attorney General Barr isn’t the top lawyer in the country who leads the Justice Department, he’s merely a tool of a corrupt President. So, everyone agrees to appeal to authority only when that authority validates their desired conclusion.

So...we plod on with politics. There will be another Presidential election in 2020. I can hardly wait.

This Saturday, Pam and I will leave for a week in Myrtle Beach. That week away will coincide with my 61st birthday, as well as the beginning of the baseball season, all of which means I will be able to frolic on the beach and stroll happily down a few fairways during the day, and sprawl out on the sofa and watch Major League Baseball at night. It will be a beautiful thing.

A Question For a Sunday Morning

This famous line from Abraham Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address...

We shall nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best hope of earth. Other means may succeed; this could not fail. The way is plain, peaceful, generous, just -- a way which, if followed, the world will forever applaud, and God must forever bless.

My question for you all is simple...are we, The United States of America, still...the last best hope of earth? 

Why or why not?

Show your work.

Married Couple Stuff

File this post under...Stuff that married couples love to do.

So, with the arrival of Spring comes a series of home improvement projects that have been gestating all winter long, projects which all began with the phrase...as soon as it gets warmer...For us it has been a whirlwind. First, we finally replaced the old, leaky, mold infested refrigerator in the garage, along with our loud and super slow dishwasher—the same one which flooded our house a mere 18 months ago. Next, I just hired a painting contractor to power wash the house, paint the exterior trim, and stain the deck. Then, I contracted with The Mosquito Authority to rid my back yard of that annoying pestilence. Now that we have reclaimed our backyard, last night, Pam and I did something really fun...went out and bought new deck furniture. This morning, as soon as it gets warmer, I will assemble it and figure out the new layout out there. It will be like adding a brand new room to the house. Once completed, the two of us will insist on spending more time out there, despite it being only 58 and intermittently sunny with pesky wind gusts that make it feel like -15.

Ok, if you are reading this and you have been married for any reasonable length of time, you will have to admit that I’m right...this IS something that married couples love to do. We love this sort of thing...putzing around the house, replacing old worn out stuff with shiny new stuff. I mean, we can’t replace each other, so we replace everything else in a never ending home-revitalizing project. It’s part of the innate human desire to want to make all things new. When we were young and poor, it was spring cleaning, a less expensive, more labor intensive effort, but the same basic human itch got scratched...start fresh. Starting next weekend Pam and I will do the same thing with our marriage...we will escape Short Pump for a week at the beach, just the two of us. New scenery, no schedule, new restaurants and hopefully, warmer weather. In a way, it will be like our 100th honeymoon. We have done these little escapes for years now. Sometimes, it was only long weekends at cheaper destinations, other times it’s been more exotic locales. This one is much more familiar...my partner’s condo in Myrtle Beach, where we have stayed at least a dozen times before. We love it, it is therapeutic, even when the weather doesn’t cooperate.

So, after breakfast, we will begin the rejuvenation of our deck. I will post pictures of the finished product.

Very exciting.

Soup and a Goddess

Last night was very cool. Wednesday night, Pam goes to her Yoga class from 6 to 7:30. She’s been doing it for several years now and we have developed this routine where I prepare dinner on Wednesday night. Back when she started with the Yoga class, she would actually make the entire meal herself and leave me a note telling me when to put it in the oven. But, as time has passed, she has allowed me more responsibility for the meal itself. At this point, I probably should add the very salient point that as a Dunnevant man, I come from a long line of witless cooks. My father couldn’t boil water without a tutorial. My brother, Donnie, recently retired with time on his hands, has taken it up and scored some impressive dishes...if doctored photographs on Facebook can be believed...but this doesn’t change the fact that I can recall a time when Donnie couldn’t identify the working end of a spatula. So, my genetic pedigree in the kitchen is marred by generations of ineptitude.

Luckily for me, Pam is an amazing cook. Since the kids have moved out of the house, I have taken to watching her prepare meals. She is organized and precise, one of those recipe following cooks who take great care in doing things right. She measures things out, none of this pinch of this and dash of that business. Watching her lay out the ingredients, assemble everything expertly, then pull the finished product, hot and gurgling out of the oven is quite therapeutic. So, when she asked me what I wanted to make for last night’s meal, I said that I wanted to attempt her lemon chicken orzo soup...from scratch...a first and quite a step up from the old days. I posted the before and after videos on Facebook last night which chronicled my triumph. It was amazing, if I must say so myself...and, I must.

But, here’s the thing that struck me most about the experience. By the time Pam walked through the door at 7:40, I was throughly whipped. Cooking an entire meal from scratch is like juggling chainsaws for me. I’m constantly setting off timers and watching the clock. Beep beep beep...wait, what is that one for??!! Wait, do I add the garlic before, after, or simultaneously with the other spices? And, when it says “boil for ten minutes, does that include the ten minutes the silly thing took to come up to a boil? Beep beep beep...crap!! What the heck? Oh yeah...add the orzo and half a cup of lemon juice from the two lemons...YOU FORGOT TO JUICE!!!

As the dish began to actually take shape and I glanced at the clock and realized that I was going to pull this off the thought occurred to me...Pam does this every night. But, not only does she prepare a meal every night, she decides what to cook, makes out a list of ingredients, goes to the store and buys the ingredients, then cooks the meal...every stinking night for 35 years. After what I went through last night, that is a staggering thing to comprehend. My wife...is a goddess.

Blame Shifting

...that feeling you get at 5:15am when you open the bank app on your iPad and see a negative number on your business account, then realize that you forgot to press send on that transfer from your personal account last night.

But, we will not let a simple mistake ruin our day. We will not allow a simple oversight cause us to question our mental acuity. We will not succumb to despair over the ravages that time has visited upon our faculties. We will simply accept this unfortunate incident for what it is...a miscue, a mishap, a flub, if you will...something that could happen to anyone. We will place this entire business behind us and not give it a second thought. Why, I imagine even Warren Buffet has forgotten to press send a few times in his life:

Warren: Gee Whiz...I wonder why my Coca Cola stock has dropped 65% this morning? Oh!! What the heck? I pressed the sell a million shares button instead of the buy a million shares button. Dang it...

So, we will move on quickly from this unpleasantness, knowing that what we experienced at 5:15am this morning is not uncommon in the affairs of men, even the best and brightest of men...mistakes will be made. We will pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and continue to advance. And we will also continue to employ the plural first person pronoun...we...when referring to our mistakes, since it makes us feel better to include the rest of you as equally at fault. Collective guilt is more palatable than shouldering all of the blame yourself.

So, be careful out there today everyone, and don’t let this happen to you again, alright?

Bracket Dilemma

Yesterday, Bland Weaver, our office bookie, handed me an NCAA bracket to fill out, attach a twenty dollar bill to it, and get it back in his hands in 24 hours. We have done this every year that I can remember and a few years ago I even won the thing. But with each passing year I feel slightly more clueless than the year before. The reason is simple...I have not watched even one college basketball game all year. 

This is a perplexing turn of events. There was once a time when I never missed the ACC game of the week. I used to be able to tell you the names of at least one player on every important team in college basketball. Back in the day, I never would have dreamed of missing even one game of March Madness, in fact, I scheduled an annual Myrtle Beach golf trip around the first weekend of ...The Tournament. It wasn’t just college basketball either, I was well-versed in the statistical minutia of college football, the PGA tour, the NFL, and even NASCAR. Now, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me, my only remaining sports obsession is Major League Baseball and Alabama football. The weird thing is I don’t even miss it...except when Bland hands me that bracket. Then, all of a sudden, I feel disconnected...and I begin asking myself, What the heck happened?

Part of my disinterest stems from what has happened to sport in this country. Insane amounts of money have overpowered every organized sport in America, making each unrecognizable to me. College basketball, in particular has become a one and done proposition, whereby juniors and seniors have disappeared from college rosters. Just about the time fans get interested in a player...poof...he declares for the NBA draft. The term Student Athlete should now be erased from the Webster’s Dictionary, since it no longer has any meaning. With the PGA, as soon as Tiger fell from grace...what’s the point? NASCAR? Who are those guys? And why are there so many empty seats in the grandstand? Where the heck are Jeff Gordon and Junior? The NFL? How many players have been arrested for beating up their girlfriends this week? Wake me when it’s over.

So, I will fly through my bracket in a few minutes, picking the likeliest winners, being careful not to overdo it with the upsets, knowing that in reality there are always only 6-8 teams who are capable of winning the thing. Then I will turn it in and hope for the best.

Less than two weeks until first pitch!!=