This past May a mom came into my office with her 12-year-old son. He was a GATE student who had just done a pretty dumb thing on campus and his mom was looking for some answers so it wouldn't happen again. I began asking some basic questions, and while we were talking Ana (the mom) looked over at some pictures of my past tennis teams sitting on a table and said "Oh, my son plays tennis". "Really", I replied, "that's great". "No, I mean, Andrew's really good--he plays tournaments." I said something like I'd love to see him play sometime, we finished our meeting, mom left campus and I gave Andrew a pass back to class.
Within a few weeks, Ana had emailed me the tournament schedule for the summer. I printed it out, checked my calendar and determined I would make a trip out to Lakewood the weekend following the close of Andrew's 7th grade year. Mom was right--the kid was good. I spotted him playing on the first court next to the bleachers, and there was mom up at the top watching intently. He dismantled his opponent easily. By that time it was about 1:00, and he was scheduled to play his next match around 3:30. So, I decided I would stick around. They had brought a couple blankets to throw onto a nearby grass area, I offered to go out and bring back some lunch so we hung out for a couple hours until his next match, which he also won.
Andrew is now 13 and is in 8th grade at Golden Valley Middle School in San Bernardino, where I am the 8th grade counselor this year. Since that weekend in June, I have spent nearly every weekend with Ana and Drew traveling to tournaments all over Southern California. She is a single parent, he is an only child. As the year has progressed, our time has expanded beyond the tennis court to include birthday parties, trips to Santa Monica pier, Big Bear Lake, and plans in the works for a Clipper game, Santana concert in Vegas and a trip out to the desert in March for the BNP Paribas Open tennis tournament at Indian Wells.
I am perhaps most excited about spending Christmas Eve at their house helping (learning as I go) to make tamales. I have decided that all blessings are good; but the unexpected kind--those are supreme . . . .
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Soundtrack of Life, part IV: U2
The first time I saw U2 live was in 1983 on their "War" tour. They played the L.A. Sports arena, and the opening band was The Alarm. I went with a tennis playing friend from the University of Redlands, Rich Frederick, and until that night, we really had no idea who The Alarm was. At one point during their opening set, they were singing a song with lyrics that went "come on down and meet your maker, come on down and make the stand". At one point we looked at each other and were like "are they singing what I think they're singing?!?" Sure enough, we would later find out that The Alarm was the real deal, and would end up seeing them countless times, soaking up their songs, interviews and concerts like a sponge. As for the headlining band that night, because the "floor" of the arena had no chairs, the crowd up front was so out of control the concert had to be delayed about 30 minutes because of the pushing and shoving. It was nuts! Then, during the concert, midstream, Bono disappeared from the stage--right in the middle of a song--only to reappear in the upper deck across from where we were standing (no one sits at a U2 concert). He was then lowered--carefully--by fans back down to the lower level, and slowly made his way back to the front of the stage to finish the song.
In the decades that have followed, U2 has been the one musical constant in my life. I believe tonight at the Rose Bowl will be the 14th time I've seen them live--haven't missed a tour since that first show in '83. The last three times I have seen them have been in Las Vegas with my best friend from college, Brian Stomski. In the late '90s in a large outdoor venue for the Popmart tour (my least favorite of them all) when Rage Against the Machine opened. Then, in November of '01, they played the basketball arena on the UNLV campus. This was a couple months after 9/11, and was an intensely emotional evening. The band had changed up their show following the twin tower attacks, making the last encore song "Walk On" a memorial to those who lost their lives. Behind the band, as they were playing, a screen with the name of every victim scrolled down behind them. Pretty sure there was not a dry eye in the building. Then, four years ago, they played the arena inside the MGM (where they have all the big prize fights). I almost decided not to go--this was just a couple months after I had lost my mom to cancer. Lots of dry eyes in the crowd--but mine weren't cooperating.
Fast forward to tonight. Rose Bowl. Pasadena. My hometown. Spent the summer there clearing out the house my parents' lived in for 45 years following my father's death in January earlier this year. So, once again, U2 will be the backdrop for another chapter turn in my life, a soundtrack full of joy, full of pain, and once again, I will be joined by friends and strangers (although strangers at a U2 concert are a lot like friends) who might wonder why tears are streaming down my face. Funny thing is, I really don't care anymore. I am thankful those tear glands are in working order. Bring it on. Something very freeing, cleansing, even comforting about releasing one's emotions. I have never met Bono, The Edge, Larry and Adam (and probably never will)--but I count them as family, and always will.
In the decades that have followed, U2 has been the one musical constant in my life. I believe tonight at the Rose Bowl will be the 14th time I've seen them live--haven't missed a tour since that first show in '83. The last three times I have seen them have been in Las Vegas with my best friend from college, Brian Stomski. In the late '90s in a large outdoor venue for the Popmart tour (my least favorite of them all) when Rage Against the Machine opened. Then, in November of '01, they played the basketball arena on the UNLV campus. This was a couple months after 9/11, and was an intensely emotional evening. The band had changed up their show following the twin tower attacks, making the last encore song "Walk On" a memorial to those who lost their lives. Behind the band, as they were playing, a screen with the name of every victim scrolled down behind them. Pretty sure there was not a dry eye in the building. Then, four years ago, they played the arena inside the MGM (where they have all the big prize fights). I almost decided not to go--this was just a couple months after I had lost my mom to cancer. Lots of dry eyes in the crowd--but mine weren't cooperating.
Fast forward to tonight. Rose Bowl. Pasadena. My hometown. Spent the summer there clearing out the house my parents' lived in for 45 years following my father's death in January earlier this year. So, once again, U2 will be the backdrop for another chapter turn in my life, a soundtrack full of joy, full of pain, and once again, I will be joined by friends and strangers (although strangers at a U2 concert are a lot like friends) who might wonder why tears are streaming down my face. Funny thing is, I really don't care anymore. I am thankful those tear glands are in working order. Bring it on. Something very freeing, cleansing, even comforting about releasing one's emotions. I have never met Bono, The Edge, Larry and Adam (and probably never will)--but I count them as family, and always will.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Soundtrack of Life, part 3
After 15 years of Reality Rock radio programs, concerts, etc., I spent 7 years teaching 9th and 12th grade English at Cajon High School. Music continued to play a major role (although in unxpected ways) as I entered, for the first time, a public school classroom in which I was the "teacher". Forty--and sometimes more--against one--it is fair to say my students had perhaps just as much influence on me--or more--as I had on them. They schooled me in sports, fashion and, yes, music. Hip-hop was pretty much the prevalent art form at the time, and it didn't take long for my CD player to become loaded with mix CDs from some of my students. "Here, Mr. Smeby--this is dope--you'll like it!" More often than not, they were right. Tupac, Snoop, Puff Daddy, Mase, Warren G, Nas--these were just a few of the names of rappers who were rhyming about life on the streets--a life many of my students were familiar with first hand.
I began to incorporate some of these lyrics in a poetry unit. On some days, I would turn down the lights, have students get out a piece of paper and listen to a variety of instrumental selections. Their assignment: to write about (or sometimes draw) what the music made them see, feel or imagine. Listen, write, share. On more than just a few occasions, tears were shed as students would share about a song that reminded them of a loved one who had passed or a place they had to move away from. (Looking back on those times, it does not surprise me that teaching English led me into my current position as counselor--the English classroom was a great training ground in many respects.)
Now, in my 8th grade counseling office, my CD player is usually home to any number of mixed tapes, with a healthy dose of praise and worship songs. While it is true to say I work with a population of "high risk" students, it also true that a great deal of them attend church services/youth groups, and will instantly recognize many of the songs I listen to. And, of course, I play them not just so I can listen--but so they might, as well. I might not be in a position to read the Bible to my students. But through my actions and speech--as well as through my CD player--I trust that God continues to use my life for His glory--in whatever position in life (tennis coach, teacher, counselor) He chooses. As Bono sings in "Magnificent", "I have no choice but to lift You up."
I began to incorporate some of these lyrics in a poetry unit. On some days, I would turn down the lights, have students get out a piece of paper and listen to a variety of instrumental selections. Their assignment: to write about (or sometimes draw) what the music made them see, feel or imagine. Listen, write, share. On more than just a few occasions, tears were shed as students would share about a song that reminded them of a loved one who had passed or a place they had to move away from. (Looking back on those times, it does not surprise me that teaching English led me into my current position as counselor--the English classroom was a great training ground in many respects.)
Now, in my 8th grade counseling office, my CD player is usually home to any number of mixed tapes, with a healthy dose of praise and worship songs. While it is true to say I work with a population of "high risk" students, it also true that a great deal of them attend church services/youth groups, and will instantly recognize many of the songs I listen to. And, of course, I play them not just so I can listen--but so they might, as well. I might not be in a position to read the Bible to my students. But through my actions and speech--as well as through my CD player--I trust that God continues to use my life for His glory--in whatever position in life (tennis coach, teacher, counselor) He chooses. As Bono sings in "Magnificent", "I have no choice but to lift You up."
Friday, October 2, 2009
Musical transformation
During our junior year, my college roommate and I decided to enroll in a radio class, which led to landing a 4-hour slot Saturday mornings from 2 am until 6 am on 89.1 KUOR. That began my career in radio. Even though we realized we had like maybe 3 listeners, we thought we were the coolest thing since sliced bread. Pretty much played anything we wanted, and what we wanted was rock and roll.
The tennis player who had led me to Jesus the year before suggested I include a Christian artist named Phil Keaggy--specifically, a song called "Time". So I did! After awhile, I got "promoted" to the coveted Friday night shift from 10 pm - 2 am, and actually, along with another classmate--Bob Ricks (who also had a late night shift on KCAL at the time)--developed quite a listenership.
The fraternities and sororities on campus started asking if we did parties (DJ music). "Sure" was our initial response, and booked our first gig for $50. We did this Friday night frat party in the pouring rain using albums from the radio station, setting up equipment on a pool table that would cause the song to skip each time someone danced up against it. From there, we graduated to all-school dances, formals out in Palm Springs, and at the height of the disco craze became quite the campus celebrities.
After graduating in 1981 I landed a job in the development office of the University and pretty much the radio shows and parties disappeared. My faith began growing in leaps and bounds, and Contemporary Christian music began to be a force to be reckoned with. I was encouraged to ask KUOR if I could have a one-hour slot to play Christian rock--they said "yes", and the Reality show was born. At first, I didn't really have much music to play, and was VERY liberal with what could pass as "Christian". Bob Dylan's Slow Train Coming, Santana, some pretty questionable songs like the Doobie Brother's "Jesus is Just Alright" would occupy those 60 minutes right alongside Phil Keaggy, Randy Stonehill, Rez Band and Paul Clark.
All the while, I was still struggling with what to do with all my secular albums. I still liked listening to them, but felt a strong pull to get rid of them. It was either dump them in the trash or sell them; I chose the later, justifying my decision by reasoning that I could use the money to purchase more Christian music, which I did. After awhile, that one hour turned into a 4 hour (9 pm-1 am) program on Monday nights, and about that time bands like Undercover, Stryper, Altar Boys and The Choir were making quite a stir in Christian bookstores across Southern California, and beyond. Berean Christian Store in Colton became Reality Rock's first radio sponsor.
Interestingly enough, right about the same time (early/mid '80s) an amazing band called U2 burst onto the music scene. The big question of the day was "is U2 a Christian band?" Regardless of how one answered that, they were a force to be reckoned with--both inside and outside the church. They influenced a slew of bands who recorded on secular labels, played in secular places but whose lyrics were full of biblical/scriptural/spiritual references--The Alarm, Simple Minds, The Waterboys, The Call, Face to Face, and many others who in turn influenced countless other bands and artists--including ones recording in the Christian "industry", which had really become just that--new record labels and bands were popping up seemingly everywhere.
Reality Rock basically jumped on a surf board and rode this wave for most of the '80s and well into the '90s. It was quite a ride, to say the least.
This post is part two of a three part series! More to come . . .
The tennis player who had led me to Jesus the year before suggested I include a Christian artist named Phil Keaggy--specifically, a song called "Time". So I did! After awhile, I got "promoted" to the coveted Friday night shift from 10 pm - 2 am, and actually, along with another classmate--Bob Ricks (who also had a late night shift on KCAL at the time)--developed quite a listenership.
The fraternities and sororities on campus started asking if we did parties (DJ music). "Sure" was our initial response, and booked our first gig for $50. We did this Friday night frat party in the pouring rain using albums from the radio station, setting up equipment on a pool table that would cause the song to skip each time someone danced up against it. From there, we graduated to all-school dances, formals out in Palm Springs, and at the height of the disco craze became quite the campus celebrities.
After graduating in 1981 I landed a job in the development office of the University and pretty much the radio shows and parties disappeared. My faith began growing in leaps and bounds, and Contemporary Christian music began to be a force to be reckoned with. I was encouraged to ask KUOR if I could have a one-hour slot to play Christian rock--they said "yes", and the Reality show was born. At first, I didn't really have much music to play, and was VERY liberal with what could pass as "Christian". Bob Dylan's Slow Train Coming, Santana, some pretty questionable songs like the Doobie Brother's "Jesus is Just Alright" would occupy those 60 minutes right alongside Phil Keaggy, Randy Stonehill, Rez Band and Paul Clark.
All the while, I was still struggling with what to do with all my secular albums. I still liked listening to them, but felt a strong pull to get rid of them. It was either dump them in the trash or sell them; I chose the later, justifying my decision by reasoning that I could use the money to purchase more Christian music, which I did. After awhile, that one hour turned into a 4 hour (9 pm-1 am) program on Monday nights, and about that time bands like Undercover, Stryper, Altar Boys and The Choir were making quite a stir in Christian bookstores across Southern California, and beyond. Berean Christian Store in Colton became Reality Rock's first radio sponsor.
Interestingly enough, right about the same time (early/mid '80s) an amazing band called U2 burst onto the music scene. The big question of the day was "is U2 a Christian band?" Regardless of how one answered that, they were a force to be reckoned with--both inside and outside the church. They influenced a slew of bands who recorded on secular labels, played in secular places but whose lyrics were full of biblical/scriptural/spiritual references--The Alarm, Simple Minds, The Waterboys, The Call, Face to Face, and many others who in turn influenced countless other bands and artists--including ones recording in the Christian "industry", which had really become just that--new record labels and bands were popping up seemingly everywhere.
Reality Rock basically jumped on a surf board and rode this wave for most of the '80s and well into the '90s. It was quite a ride, to say the least.
This post is part two of a three part series! More to come . . .
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Soundtrack of Life
During my high school years in the mid 70s, aside from tennis, my passion was music. It seemed like I upgraded my stereo system every 6 months, and when I bought my first pair of Koss headphones, it was as if I was transported to a different dimension. Led Zepplin's "Houses of the Holy", The Who's "Quadrophenia" and
Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" would constantly fill my ears and led an exhaustive list of vinyl masterpieces that are now part of the "classic rock" genre.
I will never forget my first concert. I was a junior at Blair High in Pasadena, and Kevin Cherniss asked if I wanted to see Roxy Music at the Hollywood Palladium. Looking back, I am still a bit amazed that my parents said "yes". As we walked through the lobby doors and into the concert hall, the stench of marijuana smoke was overwhelming. Pretty sure everyone in that auditorium--including the band--was high, except for me. All my friends smoked weed--I abstained due to my other addiction--tennis.
As I made the transition from high school to college, my passion for music only grew stronger. In the early 80s, I added The Who, Springsteen and Genesis to my concert experiences, to name a few. And then in the dorm room of one of my teammates at the University of Redlands, I reluctantly began studying the book of John. Glenn Cunliffe had invited me to join him and his roommate, Joaquin Gonzales--also on the tennis team--to a weekly bible study. Most people have a date--a time--an event--where they answered the call, cried out to God, and became a Christian. Not so with me. All I know is, at the beginning of the study, I was not a believer. By the end, I was fully convinced that yes, Jesus was God, He came to redeem sinners, and the hole in my life I had been aware of for quite some time could only be filled by Him. (I would actually "go forward" to countless altar calls in the years that would follow--Easter sunrise services with Greg Laurie, Keith Green concerts, Harvest Sunday evening services--if someone were counting, I probably got saved about 17 times!)
Initially, my newfound faith affected my tennis. While in high school I was a whiny, racquet throwing brat on the court. As my faith matured, my demeanor on the court followed suit. I would begin (silently) praying during changeovers. I even remember going through a period where I questioned if competition was biblical. If God is love, is it okay to want to defeat an opponent (in any sport)? I was in college, and if I wasn't tackling the Big life issues in literature class, I was opening just about any Pandora's box placed in my path. Life became one question after another, and I wasn't about to "settle" for easy answers.
Music was the last frontier for my faith to conquer, and to cover that process in this blog would be overkill. Part two to follow . . .
Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" would constantly fill my ears and led an exhaustive list of vinyl masterpieces that are now part of the "classic rock" genre.
I will never forget my first concert. I was a junior at Blair High in Pasadena, and Kevin Cherniss asked if I wanted to see Roxy Music at the Hollywood Palladium. Looking back, I am still a bit amazed that my parents said "yes". As we walked through the lobby doors and into the concert hall, the stench of marijuana smoke was overwhelming. Pretty sure everyone in that auditorium--including the band--was high, except for me. All my friends smoked weed--I abstained due to my other addiction--tennis.
As I made the transition from high school to college, my passion for music only grew stronger. In the early 80s, I added The Who, Springsteen and Genesis to my concert experiences, to name a few. And then in the dorm room of one of my teammates at the University of Redlands, I reluctantly began studying the book of John. Glenn Cunliffe had invited me to join him and his roommate, Joaquin Gonzales--also on the tennis team--to a weekly bible study. Most people have a date--a time--an event--where they answered the call, cried out to God, and became a Christian. Not so with me. All I know is, at the beginning of the study, I was not a believer. By the end, I was fully convinced that yes, Jesus was God, He came to redeem sinners, and the hole in my life I had been aware of for quite some time could only be filled by Him. (I would actually "go forward" to countless altar calls in the years that would follow--Easter sunrise services with Greg Laurie, Keith Green concerts, Harvest Sunday evening services--if someone were counting, I probably got saved about 17 times!)
Initially, my newfound faith affected my tennis. While in high school I was a whiny, racquet throwing brat on the court. As my faith matured, my demeanor on the court followed suit. I would begin (silently) praying during changeovers. I even remember going through a period where I questioned if competition was biblical. If God is love, is it okay to want to defeat an opponent (in any sport)? I was in college, and if I wasn't tackling the Big life issues in literature class, I was opening just about any Pandora's box placed in my path. Life became one question after another, and I wasn't about to "settle" for easy answers.
Music was the last frontier for my faith to conquer, and to cover that process in this blog would be overkill. Part two to follow . . .
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Race Relations
A few weekends ago I was invited down to Westminster (next to Huntington Beach) for some tennis with a player I formerly coached in high school. Afterwards he treated me to Thai food at one of his local favorites. You could sort of tell how authentic the food was by not only the cooks in the kitchen, but also the people (wall to wall on this day) savoring the delectable cuisine. Can't wait for seconds . . .
Before heading back to the IE's triple digit temps, made a detour to Newport, strolled down the pier and along the beach and was struck by the complete mix of races along the sand--happy families young and old, brown, black, yellow and white seemingly without a care in the world. A refreshing reminder of how this country can really show its true "colors" . . .not sure which was more satisfying--the wet sand beneath my feet, or this vision of racial reality which the media so often doesn't report on the evening news.
Fast forward to later that evening as I headed into the sanctuary for Sunday evening church. They say that Sunday church is the most segregated hour of the week in America, and while this might not be true in all cities at all churches, this seems to be true where I worship. I was reminded of the time one of my freshmen in English class, Chuck, had shared that his father was a pastor at a church in San Bernardino. I decided to visit one Sunday morning well over a decade ago. As I walked through the parking lot and into the sanctuary, I was greeted by smiling, joyful women in their Sunday best hats, surely wondering who this visitor was, and why had he chosen to join them on this particular day. As I took my seat in middle of the pews, I couldn't help but notice that I was the only white person in the entire church. At that moment, I realized what it must feel like for a person of color to be in a setting where they realize that they are "alone". Of course, in the comfort of a church, it was a feeling which brought not tension or apprehension at all--just an acute awareness of my "differentness". At one point the pastor, Chuck's dad, asked if there were any visitors that morning, and if so, would they please stand and introduce themselves. Sure enough, I was the only one. When I explained that I was Chuck Jr.'s English teacher, I remember soft chuckles rippling through the building--almost a collective sigh of relief to understand that no, this was not some high-ranking official of the Aryan Nation infiltrating our worship. I thoroughly enjoyed the three (!) hours we spent singing, laughing and praising God together.
In a few weeks I will return to my office as the 8th grade counselor for Golden Valley Middle School in San Bernardino. There is a very good reason why educators are given 3 months of vacation, and it is because I am about to enter into 9 months where the collision of white, latino, asian and black families, teachers and students will not always be peaceful. Yes, even with a mixed president in the White House, I am bracing for plenty of "action" during the upcoming school year.
Last year during a student gathering at my school called "Unity Forum", we showed the "I Have a Dream" speech by Martin Luther King. Afterwards, a student asked if I felt we had finally realized that dream of racial equality in America. My answer was simple: "As long as we live in this country, and as long as this country welcomes people of all cultures into its arms, we as a people will always struggle with the issues that racial diversity bring. Racial harmony is not a destination; it is a journey." Ok, I am paraphrasing my own words here, but that was basically how I answered this student's question. And it is nothing more than my own opinion; surely many might disagree.
In the aftermath of Michael Jackson's passing, I have, more than ever, come to appreciate his song "Man in the Mirror". The sentiment of that song, I believe, is crucial to landing a seat along this journey of race. Not sure about you, but I'll start with a long hard look in the mirror . . . .
Before heading back to the IE's triple digit temps, made a detour to Newport, strolled down the pier and along the beach and was struck by the complete mix of races along the sand--happy families young and old, brown, black, yellow and white seemingly without a care in the world. A refreshing reminder of how this country can really show its true "colors" . . .not sure which was more satisfying--the wet sand beneath my feet, or this vision of racial reality which the media so often doesn't report on the evening news.
Fast forward to later that evening as I headed into the sanctuary for Sunday evening church. They say that Sunday church is the most segregated hour of the week in America, and while this might not be true in all cities at all churches, this seems to be true where I worship. I was reminded of the time one of my freshmen in English class, Chuck, had shared that his father was a pastor at a church in San Bernardino. I decided to visit one Sunday morning well over a decade ago. As I walked through the parking lot and into the sanctuary, I was greeted by smiling, joyful women in their Sunday best hats, surely wondering who this visitor was, and why had he chosen to join them on this particular day. As I took my seat in middle of the pews, I couldn't help but notice that I was the only white person in the entire church. At that moment, I realized what it must feel like for a person of color to be in a setting where they realize that they are "alone". Of course, in the comfort of a church, it was a feeling which brought not tension or apprehension at all--just an acute awareness of my "differentness". At one point the pastor, Chuck's dad, asked if there were any visitors that morning, and if so, would they please stand and introduce themselves. Sure enough, I was the only one. When I explained that I was Chuck Jr.'s English teacher, I remember soft chuckles rippling through the building--almost a collective sigh of relief to understand that no, this was not some high-ranking official of the Aryan Nation infiltrating our worship. I thoroughly enjoyed the three (!) hours we spent singing, laughing and praising God together.
In a few weeks I will return to my office as the 8th grade counselor for Golden Valley Middle School in San Bernardino. There is a very good reason why educators are given 3 months of vacation, and it is because I am about to enter into 9 months where the collision of white, latino, asian and black families, teachers and students will not always be peaceful. Yes, even with a mixed president in the White House, I am bracing for plenty of "action" during the upcoming school year.
Last year during a student gathering at my school called "Unity Forum", we showed the "I Have a Dream" speech by Martin Luther King. Afterwards, a student asked if I felt we had finally realized that dream of racial equality in America. My answer was simple: "As long as we live in this country, and as long as this country welcomes people of all cultures into its arms, we as a people will always struggle with the issues that racial diversity bring. Racial harmony is not a destination; it is a journey." Ok, I am paraphrasing my own words here, but that was basically how I answered this student's question. And it is nothing more than my own opinion; surely many might disagree.
In the aftermath of Michael Jackson's passing, I have, more than ever, come to appreciate his song "Man in the Mirror". The sentiment of that song, I believe, is crucial to landing a seat along this journey of race. Not sure about you, but I'll start with a long hard look in the mirror . . . .
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Magnet of Sin
Ever wonder why a one-hour newscast typically devotes about two-thirds coverage to murders, rapes, natural disasters and tragedies (the remaining third tends to be a mix of sports, weather and a little 3-minute "feel good" story at the end about some 9-year-old who raised money from a lemonade stand to help fight world hunger)? TV is all about ratings, and ratings are all about money, and negative things sell. Without realizing it often times, we are drawn to the negative.
"Breaking newsflash--this just in--high speed car chase through downtown Glendale--we will stay with this until its conclusion . . ." I have to believe I'm not the only one who has been drawn in--sucked in to this type of coverage. Not sure what my record is for duration of time glued to a chase, but instead of changing the channel to something else, before we know it--30, 45 minutes--or more--have been wasted hoping to get a glimpse how this thing will end. Will he/she be the first one to actually elude capture? Will there be a fiery crash or fatal shoot-out? And, c'mon now, work with me--what a total LET DOWN if the thing ends--as it usually does--with the fugitive peacefully surrendering to the authorities. How boring.
If we believe media coverage, most of what happens in the world is bad, negative, sinful. What if that same one-hour newscast was chock-full (wall to wall) of positive people doing positive things? What would the ratings look like then? Not good! I have no doubt that in the every day world of America (and other countries), there are countless, untold stories of bravery, heroism, people helping people, teachers making a difference, military personnel freeing the oppressed, pastors in small (or large) churches who are not abusing altar boys or who are not making huge salaries, doctors and nurses who are saving lives . . . I could go on and on, couldn't I?
It is difficult, sometimes, to escape what the media is trying to do here. In education, in teacher school, we are taught to "catch them being good". This is true with parenting, as well. We need to be taught, reminded of, reinforced about this because it is SO MUCH EASIER to "catch them being bad". There are two ways to modify the behavior of a child, or of a classroom--beat them over the head when they do wrong things until they conform to our standards, or kill them with love--whenever someone does something right (and this is 90% of the kids 90% of the time), make sure you give them praise. This is also true in coaching. Statistics will show that in any of these arenas, for every one negative comment made about someone's behavior, it takes 4 positive ones to make up for it. "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me". WHAT A COMPLETE AND TOTAL LIE!!! Physical wounds will eventually heal (the cuts and scrapes, at least), but a wrong word said at the wrong time in the wrong way--that can leave a scar for life.
I am constantly attempting to counterbalance what society, the media, etc. throws at me. Not sure where I heard/read this, but whenever I do it, the rest of the day seems to fall into place as it should: I begin the day by thanking God for ten things in my life. Could be people, situations, things--but I start by not asking God to fix ten things that are wrong; rather, expressing thanks for how He has blessed me. A very simple thing, but often with a profound change in my attitude about life.
"Breaking newsflash--this just in--high speed car chase through downtown Glendale--we will stay with this until its conclusion . . ." I have to believe I'm not the only one who has been drawn in--sucked in to this type of coverage. Not sure what my record is for duration of time glued to a chase, but instead of changing the channel to something else, before we know it--30, 45 minutes--or more--have been wasted hoping to get a glimpse how this thing will end. Will he/she be the first one to actually elude capture? Will there be a fiery crash or fatal shoot-out? And, c'mon now, work with me--what a total LET DOWN if the thing ends--as it usually does--with the fugitive peacefully surrendering to the authorities. How boring.
If we believe media coverage, most of what happens in the world is bad, negative, sinful. What if that same one-hour newscast was chock-full (wall to wall) of positive people doing positive things? What would the ratings look like then? Not good! I have no doubt that in the every day world of America (and other countries), there are countless, untold stories of bravery, heroism, people helping people, teachers making a difference, military personnel freeing the oppressed, pastors in small (or large) churches who are not abusing altar boys or who are not making huge salaries, doctors and nurses who are saving lives . . . I could go on and on, couldn't I?
It is difficult, sometimes, to escape what the media is trying to do here. In education, in teacher school, we are taught to "catch them being good". This is true with parenting, as well. We need to be taught, reminded of, reinforced about this because it is SO MUCH EASIER to "catch them being bad". There are two ways to modify the behavior of a child, or of a classroom--beat them over the head when they do wrong things until they conform to our standards, or kill them with love--whenever someone does something right (and this is 90% of the kids 90% of the time), make sure you give them praise. This is also true in coaching. Statistics will show that in any of these arenas, for every one negative comment made about someone's behavior, it takes 4 positive ones to make up for it. "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me". WHAT A COMPLETE AND TOTAL LIE!!! Physical wounds will eventually heal (the cuts and scrapes, at least), but a wrong word said at the wrong time in the wrong way--that can leave a scar for life.
I am constantly attempting to counterbalance what society, the media, etc. throws at me. Not sure where I heard/read this, but whenever I do it, the rest of the day seems to fall into place as it should: I begin the day by thanking God for ten things in my life. Could be people, situations, things--but I start by not asking God to fix ten things that are wrong; rather, expressing thanks for how He has blessed me. A very simple thing, but often with a profound change in my attitude about life.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Back to Basics
While at Starbucks for my usual venti drip and Sunday Times this morning, I was struck by a quote on the front page referring to President Obama's trip to Africa: "I didn't see anything fresh or new . . .It was the same things about good-governance and responsibility that we've been hearing since the 1980s". Words from Kenyan columnist Barrack Muluka. Upon reading this, I immediately thought of the preacher who ended up giving the exact same sermon for like 23 weeks in a row, each time realizing that his congregation had still not internalized the message. Perhaps Mr. Muluka does not understand that until ANY nation or continent can figure out the basic issues--like responsibility and good-governance--there will continue to be much turmoil.
We've heard messages so many times, we figure "yeah, that's outdated--heard it a thousand times--let's move on to something fresh and new and innovative". I'm guilty of that line of thinking--my guess is we all are at times. We reach for the "self help" books on the shelf at Barnes and Noble, hoping that the new young author has figured things out this time.
When all along, life really comes down to some very simple, age-old truths--that will never change!
If a family--or a city, state or country--spends more than it earns--it will begin compounding debt . . .
If we eat more calories than we burn, we will continue to gain weight . . .
If I want to be respected by those around me, perhaps I should start by respecting them . . .
And you have to love Jesus. Well, you don't have to--but seeing as how He gave His life for us . . .but really, you have to love how He would just cut right to the heart of things--the basics. Today, we have so much "static" and stuff--new technology throwing itself at us constantly--it is becoming much more difficult to see through all the mess and realize "ok, what is it that I really need to know and do?" In His day, it was the Pharisees and the Sadducees--the religious rulers--who would always be trying to "trip him up" with their rhetoric and questioning.
"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" Jesus replied, "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."
Wow. And people complain about the Bible being confusing, hard to understand. Love God, and love people. Period. Talk about basic--how much more simple can it get? Please understand here, though, that I fully realize the difference between the words simple and easy. Just because Jesus' words might be simple to understand, those two commandments are anything but easy to carry out. And yet, this illustrates all the more our need to spend some time on first base before trying to run to second.
Life doesn't have to be complicated. We allow it to be. Can't say that I know any Amish people--but I'm thinking they might be on to something . . .
We've heard messages so many times, we figure "yeah, that's outdated--heard it a thousand times--let's move on to something fresh and new and innovative". I'm guilty of that line of thinking--my guess is we all are at times. We reach for the "self help" books on the shelf at Barnes and Noble, hoping that the new young author has figured things out this time.
When all along, life really comes down to some very simple, age-old truths--that will never change!
If a family--or a city, state or country--spends more than it earns--it will begin compounding debt . . .
If we eat more calories than we burn, we will continue to gain weight . . .
If I want to be respected by those around me, perhaps I should start by respecting them . . .
And you have to love Jesus. Well, you don't have to--but seeing as how He gave His life for us . . .but really, you have to love how He would just cut right to the heart of things--the basics. Today, we have so much "static" and stuff--new technology throwing itself at us constantly--it is becoming much more difficult to see through all the mess and realize "ok, what is it that I really need to know and do?" In His day, it was the Pharisees and the Sadducees--the religious rulers--who would always be trying to "trip him up" with their rhetoric and questioning.
"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" Jesus replied, "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."
Wow. And people complain about the Bible being confusing, hard to understand. Love God, and love people. Period. Talk about basic--how much more simple can it get? Please understand here, though, that I fully realize the difference between the words simple and easy. Just because Jesus' words might be simple to understand, those two commandments are anything but easy to carry out. And yet, this illustrates all the more our need to spend some time on first base before trying to run to second.
Life doesn't have to be complicated. We allow it to be. Can't say that I know any Amish people--but I'm thinking they might be on to something . . .
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Reality Rock Rekindling
Back in the days of Reality Rock Ministries, I wore many hats. DJ, concert promoter, columnist, etc., etc. The one I enjoyed the most, though, was my "fan" hat. The best way I can illustrate this is in the midst of arranging a concert, running around like a chicken with its head cut off for hours before the first note is played, introducing opening acts, asking Jason Dean why the police cars pulled up outside, making sure there's enough water for the bands, etc., in the back of my mind was to get to that special moment where all "work" was behind me and I could become lost in the sea of other fans in the crowd. I would just slip into a row and allow the concerns of clean up, follow up, etc. to temporarily slip away and simply enjoy whatever music was being offered up. Whether for one, two, three songs or more, this was my most rewarding part of the evening. Deeply personal and wholly satisfying.
After Reality Rock faded into that thing we call time, the "fan" hat also began to fade away--for a variety of reasons, which I will return to shortly. Most importantly, though, is recently, I found that "hat" again. How this has happened I am not sure--perhaps a collection of things. During these past 12 months or so, I turned 50 ("time" has a way of messing with one's mind!); Jason Dean returned from two years in Australia and we began (half jokingly--but half seriously) talking about what it would be like if we had another radio program; I joined Facebook and reconnected with a slew of former Reality Rockers; I had to go through some things in storage and was "forced" to deal with literally hundreds of cassettes containing old (really old) Reality Rock programs, some dating as far back as 1982--yes, nearly three decades!
So my laptop iTunes now has been updated, iPod synched and as I listened to The Choir's "Chase the Kangaroo" and The Prayer Chain's "Whirlpool" while driving up to Big Bear Friday afternoon, I wondered (to myself) if there is any such thing as a musical orgasm. I'm sorry, but yes, it was that good! After so many years, I had perhaps a more seasoned perspective on this music that had had such a profound effect on my life. And it feels really, really good to "rekindle" that spirit. The "fan" hat has not only been found, but is now planted firmly on my head.
Now, back to where it went in the first place. After 15 years of Reality Rock, I knew the time had come for me to move on, and the next chapter was to enter the world of education. I became a high school English teacher (as well as tennis coach at the public school at which I taught--Cajon High in San Bernardino). It didn't take long to realize that if I were to be successful (translation: survive) in this new endeavor, it would take 110% of my energy. I dropped my connection with the youth group at my church, dropped anything Reality Rock related, etc. Also, in the process, I slowly began cheating myself of spiritual growth. Stopped going to church. Looking back, it was a slow fade not into disbelief, but indifference. I justified this by thinking, "Well, Reality Rock took 110% from me; now, it's time to give that much to my new career". Poor move on my part. Yes, I have been successful in this new teaching/coaching venture (teaching morphed into guidance counselor about 8 years ago), but at the expense of my spiritual well-being.
About 5 years ago, I realized what had been happening, and began to "right the ship". Fast forward to where things are now, and I feel like I have pretty much come full circle. And am excited to see where this "rekindling" may lead. Stay tuned . . .
After Reality Rock faded into that thing we call time, the "fan" hat also began to fade away--for a variety of reasons, which I will return to shortly. Most importantly, though, is recently, I found that "hat" again. How this has happened I am not sure--perhaps a collection of things. During these past 12 months or so, I turned 50 ("time" has a way of messing with one's mind!); Jason Dean returned from two years in Australia and we began (half jokingly--but half seriously) talking about what it would be like if we had another radio program; I joined Facebook and reconnected with a slew of former Reality Rockers; I had to go through some things in storage and was "forced" to deal with literally hundreds of cassettes containing old (really old) Reality Rock programs, some dating as far back as 1982--yes, nearly three decades!
So my laptop iTunes now has been updated, iPod synched and as I listened to The Choir's "Chase the Kangaroo" and The Prayer Chain's "Whirlpool" while driving up to Big Bear Friday afternoon, I wondered (to myself) if there is any such thing as a musical orgasm. I'm sorry, but yes, it was that good! After so many years, I had perhaps a more seasoned perspective on this music that had had such a profound effect on my life. And it feels really, really good to "rekindle" that spirit. The "fan" hat has not only been found, but is now planted firmly on my head.
Now, back to where it went in the first place. After 15 years of Reality Rock, I knew the time had come for me to move on, and the next chapter was to enter the world of education. I became a high school English teacher (as well as tennis coach at the public school at which I taught--Cajon High in San Bernardino). It didn't take long to realize that if I were to be successful (translation: survive) in this new endeavor, it would take 110% of my energy. I dropped my connection with the youth group at my church, dropped anything Reality Rock related, etc. Also, in the process, I slowly began cheating myself of spiritual growth. Stopped going to church. Looking back, it was a slow fade not into disbelief, but indifference. I justified this by thinking, "Well, Reality Rock took 110% from me; now, it's time to give that much to my new career". Poor move on my part. Yes, I have been successful in this new teaching/coaching venture (teaching morphed into guidance counselor about 8 years ago), but at the expense of my spiritual well-being.
About 5 years ago, I realized what had been happening, and began to "right the ship". Fast forward to where things are now, and I feel like I have pretty much come full circle. And am excited to see where this "rekindling" may lead. Stay tuned . . .
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Somewhere In the Middle
"Somewhere between the new and the old - Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be - Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me - Somewhere between the wrong and the right - Somewhere between the darkness and the light - Somewhere between who I was and who You're making me - Somewhere in the middle You'll find me"
Lyrics from Casting Crowns, written by Mark Hall from The Altar and the Door
On many different levels, this song totally resonates with me.
It is so easy to live on one side or the other. The extreme is safe. Red States vs. Blue states. Protestant vs. Catholic. Yankees vs. Mets.
I was at Chilis about 7 years ago during playoff time watching a Laker game in the bar, and I was wearing a Clippers jersey. I like the Clippers--I'm a fan. I also like the Lakers. I'm an NBA fan, period. I like basketball. So there's this one guy sitting at the table next to ours, and he says something like, "Dude, which is it--are you a Lakers fan or a Clippers fan?" The stupidity of this statement still amazes me to this day. But for so many people, in so many areas, this "one or the other, either or" mentality is all they seem to understand.
During the early days of Reality Rock, back in the '80s, preachers would get on their soapbox about the evils of rock music. "You are either for the devil or for Jesus--music is either Christian or satanic--there is no in-between. If you listen to the music of the world, you are a compromised Christian. Burn any tapes/records that are of Satan and the world--only keep those whose songs glorify Christ"
Now, some reading this may wonder what beef I could have with that? Simple: it's not that simple. When I would be invited to speak to youth groups about music, I was very clear about why the above stance is wrong--it's way too simple. Way too easy. Way too wrong! When I asked the kids to raise their hands if they liked to sing "Happy Birthday" at parties, all hands went up. "Ok, is that a Christian song?" I would ask next. "Um, no, not really." How about no, not at all--not even close. It is JUST A SONG. It's a song people sing when it's someone's birthday. It is not satanic. It is not Christian. And, if one would actually take the time and effort to engage their brain long enough to realize that if there is a song playing on the radio about horses, it does not, CAN NOT fall into the "either or" category of Christian or satanic. It is simply a song about horses.
It would be so nice if life were black and white all the time. We really wouldn't have to "wrestle" with those gray areas that don't easily fit into our little boxes.
On my Facebook page, where it asks for my political affiliation, I put the word "hybrid". No, that doesn't mean I'm driving a Prius. It means that I am a registered republican who is pro-life, but against the death penalty. What a terrible republican I am! Arnold is a hybrid. Many republicans feel he is a democratic wolf in sheep's clothing. Bush was a republican, but many republicans called out his immigration policies as being WAY too liberal.
Labels are convenient. Labels are easy. But labels don't always tell the full story.
I am so sick and tired of our two-party system. Yes, there are other parties out there, but let's face it. We have backed ourselves into a corner as a country when it comes to political races. If you're not one or the other, you don't have a chance.
People who attempt to label me usually come up a bit frustrated. I am thankful for that. I am who I am. Somewhere in the middle, you'll find me . . . .
Lyrics from Casting Crowns, written by Mark Hall from The Altar and the Door
On many different levels, this song totally resonates with me.
It is so easy to live on one side or the other. The extreme is safe. Red States vs. Blue states. Protestant vs. Catholic. Yankees vs. Mets.
I was at Chilis about 7 years ago during playoff time watching a Laker game in the bar, and I was wearing a Clippers jersey. I like the Clippers--I'm a fan. I also like the Lakers. I'm an NBA fan, period. I like basketball. So there's this one guy sitting at the table next to ours, and he says something like, "Dude, which is it--are you a Lakers fan or a Clippers fan?" The stupidity of this statement still amazes me to this day. But for so many people, in so many areas, this "one or the other, either or" mentality is all they seem to understand.
During the early days of Reality Rock, back in the '80s, preachers would get on their soapbox about the evils of rock music. "You are either for the devil or for Jesus--music is either Christian or satanic--there is no in-between. If you listen to the music of the world, you are a compromised Christian. Burn any tapes/records that are of Satan and the world--only keep those whose songs glorify Christ"
Now, some reading this may wonder what beef I could have with that? Simple: it's not that simple. When I would be invited to speak to youth groups about music, I was very clear about why the above stance is wrong--it's way too simple. Way too easy. Way too wrong! When I asked the kids to raise their hands if they liked to sing "Happy Birthday" at parties, all hands went up. "Ok, is that a Christian song?" I would ask next. "Um, no, not really." How about no, not at all--not even close. It is JUST A SONG. It's a song people sing when it's someone's birthday. It is not satanic. It is not Christian. And, if one would actually take the time and effort to engage their brain long enough to realize that if there is a song playing on the radio about horses, it does not, CAN NOT fall into the "either or" category of Christian or satanic. It is simply a song about horses.
It would be so nice if life were black and white all the time. We really wouldn't have to "wrestle" with those gray areas that don't easily fit into our little boxes.
On my Facebook page, where it asks for my political affiliation, I put the word "hybrid". No, that doesn't mean I'm driving a Prius. It means that I am a registered republican who is pro-life, but against the death penalty. What a terrible republican I am! Arnold is a hybrid. Many republicans feel he is a democratic wolf in sheep's clothing. Bush was a republican, but many republicans called out his immigration policies as being WAY too liberal.
Labels are convenient. Labels are easy. But labels don't always tell the full story.
I am so sick and tired of our two-party system. Yes, there are other parties out there, but let's face it. We have backed ourselves into a corner as a country when it comes to political races. If you're not one or the other, you don't have a chance.
People who attempt to label me usually come up a bit frustrated. I am thankful for that. I am who I am. Somewhere in the middle, you'll find me . . . .
Saturday, May 2, 2009
cassette tapes
Within the last year I treated myself to an IPOD for the first time, ditching (once and for all) my Sony Walkman. However, on this warm, cloudy Saturday afternoon, I find myself listening to cassette tapes--yeah, those things that replaced 8-track cartridges back in the '60s.
The occasion--celebrating the survival of old Reality Rock program tapes!
A couple weeks ago, I reconnected with a friend of mine from Atlanta who is a college Chemistry professor. He asked if I kept any program air-checks from KLRD or KUOR. When I told him they had been in a storage unit in Yucaipa since last spring, he grimaced. "Was it air-conditioned?" Well, no. He told me there was no way they had survived the summer heat.
So today, while moving some other stuff, I was determined to take a sampling from the unit back home, pop them into the cassette player and see what I found. Lo and behold, chemistry professors aren't always right, I am happy to say!
Since joining Facebook, I have reconnected with many of the Reality Rock listening/program staff family over the past few months; this listening experience sort of completes the walk down memory lane. Mike Stand, The Call, King's X and Violet Burning are taking me back to some of the best 15 years of my life. Almost makes me want to hop back on the airwaves again--almost . . . .
The occasion--celebrating the survival of old Reality Rock program tapes!
A couple weeks ago, I reconnected with a friend of mine from Atlanta who is a college Chemistry professor. He asked if I kept any program air-checks from KLRD or KUOR. When I told him they had been in a storage unit in Yucaipa since last spring, he grimaced. "Was it air-conditioned?" Well, no. He told me there was no way they had survived the summer heat.
So today, while moving some other stuff, I was determined to take a sampling from the unit back home, pop them into the cassette player and see what I found. Lo and behold, chemistry professors aren't always right, I am happy to say!
Since joining Facebook, I have reconnected with many of the Reality Rock listening/program staff family over the past few months; this listening experience sort of completes the walk down memory lane. Mike Stand, The Call, King's X and Violet Burning are taking me back to some of the best 15 years of my life. Almost makes me want to hop back on the airwaves again--almost . . . .
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Transitions
Tomorrow morning, a friend and co-worker will be notifying her boss that she is retiring in June. During the final weeks of school, she will be clearing out her office, saying "good bye" and riding into the sunset of retirement.
A few days ago, I received a text message from a close friend whose mother had just arrived in heaven.
All over this nation, millions of people are experiencing intense, unexpected transitions--jobs being lost or hours cut, homes being lost or in negotiations to be saved--in so many ways--good or bad--transitions become defining moments in our lives.
Over the last 3 and a half years, I have experienced what has been--and surely will be--the most difficult transition of my life. Losing my mother, sister and father in such a short span has not been easy. Some days are better than others. I am a changed person. My world has truly been "rocked".
This summer I will spend in Pasadena removing my parents' lives from the house in which I was raised since I was 5 years old. In the meantime, I continue to press forward in the "details" of settling estate issues.
When a spouse dies, the survivor is faced with a choice: remarry or remain single. In much the same way, I have chosen to become "readopted". Before you ask what I was smoking for lunch, let me explain.
The day after my father passed away in January, I received an email from a very good friend. His family had, over the years, already become like an extended family. The email was basically explaining that his family (his wife and four children) had decided they wanted to "invite" me to join their family. Up until that time, I had been "Uncle John" to the kids. But they voted, and decided I would become their older brother. This is amusing, in that their dad is two years younger than I am.
To try to explain in words what it meant to me to receive an email like that would be impossible. I am SO incredibly thankful to God for blessing me with friends like this--and others--who are helping me through this major life transition.
No, nothing, no one could ever come close to "replacing" the family I grew up with, who adopted me as an infant. But I do know that my mom and dad would be thrilled to know that I will still have friends I can now call family, that I won't be "stranded" on holidays, that this transition is just that--a transition from one period of life to another.
"Life is what happens while you're making other plans" . . .not sure who said it, but my favorite quote by far!
A few days ago, I received a text message from a close friend whose mother had just arrived in heaven.
All over this nation, millions of people are experiencing intense, unexpected transitions--jobs being lost or hours cut, homes being lost or in negotiations to be saved--in so many ways--good or bad--transitions become defining moments in our lives.
Over the last 3 and a half years, I have experienced what has been--and surely will be--the most difficult transition of my life. Losing my mother, sister and father in such a short span has not been easy. Some days are better than others. I am a changed person. My world has truly been "rocked".
This summer I will spend in Pasadena removing my parents' lives from the house in which I was raised since I was 5 years old. In the meantime, I continue to press forward in the "details" of settling estate issues.
When a spouse dies, the survivor is faced with a choice: remarry or remain single. In much the same way, I have chosen to become "readopted". Before you ask what I was smoking for lunch, let me explain.
The day after my father passed away in January, I received an email from a very good friend. His family had, over the years, already become like an extended family. The email was basically explaining that his family (his wife and four children) had decided they wanted to "invite" me to join their family. Up until that time, I had been "Uncle John" to the kids. But they voted, and decided I would become their older brother. This is amusing, in that their dad is two years younger than I am.
To try to explain in words what it meant to me to receive an email like that would be impossible. I am SO incredibly thankful to God for blessing me with friends like this--and others--who are helping me through this major life transition.
No, nothing, no one could ever come close to "replacing" the family I grew up with, who adopted me as an infant. But I do know that my mom and dad would be thrilled to know that I will still have friends I can now call family, that I won't be "stranded" on holidays, that this transition is just that--a transition from one period of life to another.
"Life is what happens while you're making other plans" . . .not sure who said it, but my favorite quote by far!
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