We got the urge to play catch with the football today.
My oldest son is eight.
We weren’t interested in football before this season. But, we recently started watching a few games on television together. We now check the scores of them every day.
I told my son that it’s not like baseball. You have to wait a week between games. But, that doesn’t matter to him, he checks the scores anyway. As if they might change. For Dallas Cowboys’ sake, I’ve been hoping they will.
Rather than watch an entire game, I often encourage that we go outside and play at some point. We usually do. I even suggest a few potential activities–ride a bike, swing a bat, throw a frisbee, you get the point. Playing catch with the football, however, has just never been what he wants to do.
Two words. Simple concept. But, one worth thinking about.
James Altucher explains it well, but this is the same guy who also thought he could save his business by becoming more like a Jedi Knight. Admittedly, the Jedi thing seemed to work for him, and his businesses, as well as the uncountable number of people he’s helped since then. But, becoming your own Skywalker is for a different day. Today, I’m just talking about how to leave early.
I’m not envisioning the “BIG” checkout. Although, admittedly, life is one fragile ride. My dad died suddenly a few months ago, and I felt that he left early. Two of my best friends lost their fathers since then, too. In fact, it’s amazing how you feel others’ losses more closely following your own. But, let’s scratch the Death Star talk for now.
I’m really just talking about the Pareto principle. At least what I can extrapolate from it.
When March Madness gets to be too much–when too many commentators impair your watching and too much swagger overshadows the coaching–turn off your television. Head outside with your first grader. Bring a basketball. Find a goal. You’ll absorb more life lessons in twenty minutes shooting baskets with your son than you’ll get in the next twenty years at your job. Give it a try. A few buckets. You won’t regret it.
The following story was shared to me by a good friend. The author is unknown, but the perspective is clear. The ride is short. Relish it. Enjoy it now, and never forget to laugh often and much.
A very successful businessman was taking a much-needed vacation in a secluded coastal village when a small boat with just one fisherman pulled into the dock. The boat had several large, fresh fish in it.
The businessman was impressed by the quality of the fish and asked the local fisherman how long it took to catch them. The fisherman replied, “Only a little while.” The businessman then asked why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish?
I learned a lot of history from my father.
If you knew my dad, you might find that statement a bit obvious. After all, Dad was a college history professor. But, don’t get too far ahead of yourself. I’m not referring to what you think that I am. I’m talking about Dallas Cowboy history.
In the mind of a child, life is perfect.
Ok, I’ll give it to you. Children fight with their siblings over ridiculous things like being first in line to leave the house. They fuss about having to wear their jacket when it’s 50 degrees, and then complain of being cold when you don’t make them put it on.
But, in the mind of a child, life is perfect, because on so many days, life just makes more sense.
My father, Dr. Terry David Bilhartz (1950-2014), passed away suddenly of cardiac arrest on Friday, December 12, 2014, at the age of 64 years old. Cause of death was found to be hypertrophic cardiomyopathy and atherosclerotic coronary artery disease, two conditions that I manage frequently in my own clinical practice. At my dad’s memorial service, I gave the eulogy. I have received numerous requests to reprint the text version of the message for those who were present in spirit, but physically unable to attend. It follows below.
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