And then…the second season known as summer began.
Trees fully leafed, front and backyards have endured two to three clean shaves, bright red Cardinals watch as their young take flight, owls haunt a 3am arrival with hoots that scrape the core of your soul and the white blotches assumed to be moss on an unexpected boulder could very well be a well decorated fawn waiting for the human stick figures to quickly pass.
This will be my 25th Carolina summer—the bodies in lockdown mode, ready to take on the bone searing heat, three tons of weighty humidity and Hollywood like unpredictability. While the scent of neighborhood BBQ’s blanket the edges of gaining access to memories worth keeping, the presence of June, July and August forces the imagination to empty bank accounts, race toward mountain tops, sail over waters that kiss the horizon and snap six hundred thousand digital pictures that’ll slow the computer down to a snails pace but that’s ok…this is your life and its worth keeping.
High school and college graduation are the current buzz word—fresh from the pages they leap bringing with them little or no hope of making enough money to press down on the gas pedal. But those who spoke at their gatherings invited guts, sacrifice and loyalty to a community. They challenged the wanderers to find a field to plant their seeds—to harvest greatness without selling out to second and third rate. A new America needs to become a world leader and it’s within their fingertips our future is gripped.
Maybe it’s just me but I’m embarrassed about giving the future to the next generation—it’s like saying, “The best we could do was introduce you to Wii Fitness, The Black Eyed Peas and Britney Spears; as for the economy and world peace…not in my job description.”
When Vi and Joe gave me America in 1981…my poisoned 18 year old radio dreams raced through an area of life historians call our last big dip in economic failure—gotta tell ya…I didn’t feel a thing, maybe its because I was raised eating huge amounts of Hamburger Helper and everything else cheap. I’d hate to climb onto this current ship because $150 tennis shoes are the new cheap.
The summer of 2010 has officially arrived—thanks to BP the Gulf of Mexico is bleeding, a volcano in Iceland continues to steam, the Stock Markets falls hundreds of points and nobody flinches, gas prices have snuggled up to $2.80 and a good friend recently forked out 36 bucks for two large pizza’s in downtown Salisbury, NC.
I’m not being negative, this is called being aware.
Grandma Dobrenz used to tell our tiny minds, “Do whatever you want…just be aware of where you’re going.”
Such words sunk in the day we were riding horse through an orchard in Ranchester, Wyoming and I kept looking over my shoulder at my brothers and sisters, having no clue that I’d soon be smooching the pies cattle keep until they’re willing to share. I wasn’t aware of where I was going.
In 1978, after spending an entire day shopping at Rim Rock Mall for school clothes the ten speed Schwinn bike tore through the open fields that would get me home quicker than taking paved roads…failing to take note of a prank, a sharp turn then down a small hill shoved me deep into a jokesters barbed wire fence scaring my upper bicep for life. Doesn’t seem like much until you look at the scar and measure how close it came to being my neck. I wasn’t aware of where I was going.
I wasn’t invited to share a message and or listen to any graduation messages but I wonder if those who were labeled public speaker of the day elected to teach rather than brag of their personal journey.
30 years from the day it was delivered I can still hear our commencement speaker, “100 people are born the same day you are…only two of you will make it to 50.”
Instantly I became aware of where I was going. Although it seemed light years away from graduation, the thought of not making it to 50 woke up my senses like a rattlesnake shaking its tail feathers. No doubt about it, the career was real, get on it now or never, there would be no more keg diving and swimming without a life jacket in the Yellowstone River.
Being aware of your path isn’t always a positive step in the right direction; fresh out of high school I became extremely paranoid which invited an addiction to a fear of failure. No matter how many times the sun elected to shine no day passed that didn’t seem cloudy or drenched with down pours. I had put myself through so much stress and pressure that my heart called a realtor and demanded to be sold to a better owner. Thank God we were in a down economy!
Words and thoughts from the greatest speakers known to man can help shape a future but it’s ultimately up to the receiver to make the decision to react to what’s been heard. The most famous speech you’ll be delivered probably won’t come from a CEO, General Manager or Graduation speaker…nope…through all this mindless bewilderment we choose to swim in, around and over is actually protected more by the circles we keep—best and less than best friends, Mom’s and Dad’s, aunts who can’t stand your ego and or six second sound bite picked up while channel surfing on a television connected to 300,000 channels but today this was the only thing you stopped to digest.
Yep, that’s the secret to life…there’s no real message until you’re willing to slam your junked up trunk into park and begin the process of becoming a better listener. You can be totally connected to the smartest most brilliant Twitterer on the planet and it means nothing unless the chunk of flesh in your chest finally convinces you to become part of the solution.
The best teachers are the greatest students. Never stop learning…summertime buys you enough space to plant new seeds in fertile soil. Beware of the future by being aware of where you’re going.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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