Where did you stuff your training wheels?
Between the ages of three to five tiny tikes free themselves from trikes and brave the odds of balance on two rather than three wheels. One crash and mom and dad are quick to bolt a set of extra balance to your backside which turns bike riding into a seriously cool excursion fed by the need to find speed in exploration.
Once you capture six and no later than seven…the fix is over. If you ain’t peddling on the power of two wheels you become a runner. And just like that…human nature has its first date with the I quit syndrome.
Having those extra wheels behind you didn’t guarantee a solid climb up a sturdy mountain but it convinced your fears that no matter what happened the bicycle wasn’t going to be a problem, unless you were headed south on a northbound hill and the brakes ended up being the page in the owners manual you elected not to study. Even then, you would fly and the bike would still be standing there like Dwayne The Rock Johnson calmly saying, “Get back on…lets take a flight to the moon.”
As a teen, young adult and middle aged to senior, the thought of taking chances has become a passing breeze that nibbles on your nose and quickly says, “Not for me.”
Keeping up with American culture comes with no training wheels.
Setting sail on an open sea of creativity is for failed artists and straight A students who can’t live without a challenge—but in time, like leaves on the tree in the front yard…everything you love hits turn number four inside your squared circle. What you once loved, cherished, found faith in no longer delivers that buzz.
I see the image in the mirror everyday and go totally New Jersey on his attitude, “What’s your problem?”
I have no clue how I reached 2nd degree status in martial arts and even worse…30 years of radio. I can’t finish reading or writing a book. I fell into a bucket of paint and landscaped nearly a thousand canvases only to find myself stuck smelling the fumes from something I used to be. I can start a project in the forest with incredible intensions but end up setting it aside when kicked in the tail by the presence of a tree root that immediately turned my path into a quick turn at the railroad tracks.
Training wheels…
Can’t wait to get them on…can’t stand the idea my friends have turned the enjoyment of bike riding into an Optimist Park comedy act. I love skateboarding! Was doing it before it was cool…kind of—I never mastered the fine art of standing up. Too afraid to fall. The mid 70's didnt come with really cool pads and helmets. I turned out to be the kid who sat on his knees and used his hands to push his dreams to separate parts of the newly discovered world.
Why 30 years of radio? Training wheels…
As much as I wanted to be Cajun Ken Cooper in Los Angeles or Larry Lujack in Chicago, a tiny voice kept whispering, “Loser…” But I couldn’t stop the extremely loud drive to keep pushing my way into an industry that eats up innocent dreamers by the second—I feared this business so bad that a moment of accidentally using foul language on the air finally pointed the way…during the process of being suspended without pay, I calmly asked Terry the GM, “While out…who do you suggest produce the commercials?”
Looking at me with fire in his heart Terry took my visions of one day living in a purple house in the city of angels while cranking Aerosmith and Kiss through guitar amps the size of Mount Mitchell to a level I didn’t know existed until he plopped down in that rich person leadership chair and through those long well tailored fingers said, “If I ever hear you cuss on the air again…you’ll be right back in this office.”
Once inside a radio station production room I realized…this is where the magic of theater of the mind truly lives. Jocks are jocks and they get one chance to make a difference. A great commercial can play over and over again like The Beatles, Chris Daughtry and REM.
Training wheels…
These aren’t bad times in America and around the world—this is the voice you’ve been waiting for, “Build it and they will come.”
Why do we stop? Fear of failure is created by bosses who fear themselves and pass it along to you. Constructive criticism is dynamite. Leadership is the new terrorism and Homeland Security hasn’t devised a plan to save this unforgettable nation. You can’t have an evil takeover if those playing the part of worker bee no longer believe in the selves they haul home everyday hoping to cry but the only thing that comes out is dust.
Training wheels…
We all have drawers in the kitchen stuffed with bolts and nuts we thought we’d never use until today. Grab a wrench and let’s get you saddled up for what’s going to become the ride of your life. Winning is a choice and today…you’ve decided to finally accomplish what you’ve always dreamed.
The day will arrive before you know it, where the only choice you're given is heaven or hell...that’s it man, Wal-Mart won’t give you a refund or exchange...not even with a rain check.
Steal my art...
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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