Take Nothing For Granted

Woe is me. Seems my last editorial about a laparoscopy which was really a “colonoscopy” but who cares?) didn’t go over that well with some of the more “delicate” readers, one of whom simply wrote “GROSS!” on her re-faxed copy. How’d I know it was from a female? Because guys think burping and making noises with their armpits is hilarious; we don’t gauge gross…. we ARE gross!

Thus my apologies for mentioning the word “spleen” in an editorial. So today, in an effort to seek editorial “balance” we’re going to talk about ingrown toenails. JUST KIDDING.
Today, we’re going to talk about family stuff. (There’s a marketing lesson in case you were wondering.)

I’m a father of two teenagers. A few years back, they both thought I contained all the knowledge in the universe and could uproot trees bare-handed. I was protector, professor, and pro-wrestler in one package.

My, how times have changed.

Now they look at me in amazement if I can complete an actual sentence. I’ve determined that they see the world divided into two camps —

1. Teenagers = Cool beyond description, smarter than all other humanoids; highly adept and thoroughly relevant.
2. Parents = None of the above.

Almost as painful in print as at dinner. Yet, they cannot argue the following point: We’ve been teenagers.

We’ve been equally sure as we were ‘un’; equal parts child and adult, madly flip-flopping like a decked mackerel on any of a thousand points. We escaped into our music, our hair, our clothes, and whatever gadgets, authors, or movements supported our call to independence. We failed to see the irony that we were “being different” all together. Silly us. And then there were drugs.

Our contrarian, thrill-seeking, independent rebellion couldn’t be more “individualized” than taking our own personal vacation from reality. Yet what was once fringe element is now mainstream. And then there was sex.

What was once shameful and stigmatized, now called courageous and bold. What once was cleaned-up pornography in the brown wrapper behind the gruff man at the convenience store is now two clicks away from anywhere. (Such as wherever they are right this second.) Oh, and it’s not cleaned up. And then there were my children. And your children.

Time Together, Time Alone

This summer, I decided to take a week off every month. (Some may recall that I took off every Friday and Monday last summer. Just experimenting here. Next year I’m contemplating taking a month off every week.)

In June, we took a real-live, old-fashioned, “Are We There Yet” car trip through various states. In each state, I did what all of you do to commemorate the visit: Flailing my arm in the back seat area while driving to swat the first person I could reach, proclaiming, “YOU’RE BOTH WRONG BECAUSE YOU’RE DRIVING ME INSANE.” This of course was said in a loving sort of way. Ah yes, car trips.

We learned far more about each other than we did about geography.

In July, I took my daughter to JH Ranch (http://www.jhranch.com/) for a week, as I did with my son last year. This is a Christian-based adventure camp, where dumb dads help figure out different strategies with their children, or have “fun” dangling 60 feet in the air suspended by wires, or raft down a river screaming “PLEASE DO NOT HIT THAT ROCK”. Stuff like that.

The staff is remarkably well-trained, safe and courteous. They cook, clean, guide and care-take all summer with a service attitude that’d rival a 5 star resort. This is made more remarkable by two little facts: 1) They’re college-age students and 2) They’re 90% volunteer. Translation: No pay. They work for smiles and a higher calling. If they actually represented the majority youth of America, then America’s youth is just fine. Yet if they only serve as examples to my children, that’s great too.

This trip was of life long value. So you may be asking….

Did I buy a “camp experience”? A Christian experience? Did I buy rafting, tower climbing, rock jumping, and learning to sleep in an un-air conditioned cabin with 9 other dads? Yes, some of all. But mostly, I bought time with my little girl.

We got time alone, and time together. This is in precious, rare supply while at home. I’m usually doing the Dagwood Bumstead off to work; she’s doing whatever 14 year-olds do that don’t involve Dad. During this week, we found out that each of us are people, bred of the stock they call family, unified through a gift as miraculous as it is taken for granted. Its called time. We enjoyed each other’s company enough to make more time to be together.

My advice: Take nothing for granted. The time you get with your children and anyone else you consider “valuable” is a gift we don’t get to re-wrap and open again. Some of you are into grandchildren, and that message is truer than ever.

Relationships CAN’T flourish through reduced contact. Even dumb ol’ dads know this.

QUESTIONS to consider:

Who are you NOT in contact with enough? What can you do to change that right now?
Do you think your customers KNOW you’re their contractor? If ‘no’, is this because you don’t contact them? How can you change that?