Balls

Each year, my Rotary club sponsors an essay contest for local middle school students. The kids write their stories and can win a few bucks. I am always amazed at the stories. These kids open veins and bleed their lives onto the page. It is very inspiring and makes me take great hope into the future knowing that kids like these will be leading us. As impressive as the essays are, what really strikes me is the fact that these kids can stand up in front of their school and read their stories. Writing a personal tale in the bedroom at night is one thing. Reading your words in front of an audience of peers is something else entirely! As talented, insightful and well-spoken as these kids are, what most affects me are the balls it takes to stand alone on the stage and bare their souls. These kids will go as far as they want in life. As jaded as I become seeing the punk kids around town being punk kids, I am irrevocably encouraged knowing that kids exist who will stand in front of a crowded gymnasium and read their words.
Last summer, we had a parade in town to celebrate its fiftieth birthday. My ten-year old son, Aden, was riding his bike, following a drill/dance group in this parade. Every time they would stop to perform. He would stop and scream, “GO TO!!!! PIERVIEW!!!!! CHIROPRACTIC!!!!” (Pier View Chiropractic is my wife’s office located in downtown Des Moines, WA) The first time I witnessed this, I was a little unnerved. His face was mean and his voice was truly fierce. He was very intense. I was frankly a little scared, and I know I can take him!! Once I got over my fear pangs, a wonderful sense of pride took over. “Dang, the kid’s got balls.” I thought. The streets were lined with hundreds of people and he continued his “marketing” for his mom’s business the entire length of the parade route. His love and support for his mom made him stand on his pedals, tip his head to the sky and yell. He was very unselfconscious about this. It was great. As a parent, you hope your kids are strong and thoughtful, good people. You also hope they remain unburdened by the crippling fears that sometimes inject themselves into lives over time. Our kids teach us many things. However, my son’s lesson to me this day was truly inspiring. “If you care about something, do something about it and don’t worry about what others think.” I have no worries about that kid.
“The follies which a man regrets most in his life are those which he didn't commit when he had the opportunity. ~Helen Rowland
You don’t regret the things in life you did. You regret the things you didn’t do when you had the chance. I have made some monumental bad choices, big time boners. I don’t really care too much about them. I have screwed up and moved on. The stuff that sinks deep and really rubs me raw are the opportunities I had, that I passed on, times when I did not DO. This list is not short and has the power to make me feel really bad. That’s why I try not to think about it, except when faced with a rare second chance to make it right. The “doing and “not-doing” comes down, most often, to balls. My biggest regrets involve me somehow, chickening out. My greatest successes have come from me stepping out of the comfort zone and performing, whether the act was successful or not is moot. Having the cojones, potatoes, guts, or just the balls to step up IS the success. Being willing to take a risk is the most powerful attribute a person can have. Brains and heart are important, but I will take balls any day of the week. Countless fantastic ideas and good intentions have dried on the vine, because the guts weren’t there to follow through in spite of the omnipresent fears. The lessons these kids, especially my son, have reminded me of serve as a challenge to do better, be better, and most of all remember from my successes that the balls are there to carry me where ever I wish to go. This is true for all of us. It is a good thing to know.