My wife and I did all the things and went to all the places and ate all the local fare together and with the kids. Each place we visited highlighted the love and trouble and sacrifice of those that built it. All for someone.

The presenters were more or less polished and had more or less clarity in their content. Some were quite bad presenters, truth be told. But sincerity beats polish in creating emotional connection. Each presenter was earnest, honest and didn’t take themselves so seriously. It was refreshing.

I’ve met these folks over the years, collecting people I trust like I gathered baseball cards as a kid.  It’s easy to call around and see if anybody will trade me a plumber for an electrician, like some kind of barter in tradesmen.  ‘Naw, dude.  The last guy you gave me smelled like pall malls and didn’t own a belt.  Who else you got?,’ go the negotiations.  

I felt the weight of my son’s question on my shoulders — as if to say, ‘Dad, are you giving me a good name? Am I a good man? Are you a good man?’ His question was real and vulnerable and honest and sincere and yet I felt judgement at what I was passing on to him.

As they sang I noticed one little girl on the top right of the aluminum risers.  She was fully immersed, clearly having practiced the performance dozens of times.

I see a counselor.  Others see spiritual directors. Some go visit Granny. Suffering is easier when processed with another, especially when she has processed her own grief well. The broken are often the best healers.

As I reflected on my career as an organizational consultant, I realized that parking spot assignments are a primary indicator of cultural health. Every organization with cultural issues I have been part of has reserved parking spots

All I knew then was that, at the end of the parade of children, the prize was ice cream.  

We kept that mat.  It’s like a scar.  It’s not the ‘as I was crossing the Gobi desert’ kind of scar, but the ’the Spring Break in Panama City airbrushed t-shirt’ kind of scar.  I still shutter when I see that thing. Yet I’m grateful for Carol and for Great Beard.