Never Give Up!

I adore these Converse shoes. Unfortunately, I'm too old to wear them. But my daughter isn't.

A while back, I posted a little story about my daughter. Here it is:

As a parent I try to be a good example for my kids. Sometimes I forget, though, that they also can teach me a thing or two and have on more than one occasion. Today was one of those occasions.

As my daughter walked toward my car tonight lugging an enormous athletic bag, I was reminded of her perseverance and determination. Bright-eyed and grinning from ear to ear, she climbed into the car and immediately began pulling item after item out of the bag."We wear this for practice. We wear this for competition. We wear this over our uniforms," she rattled off without taking a breath. I smiled. Her dream had come true--she was a Golden Girl.

Now to fully appreciate why this was the answer I was looking for, you need to know where this story began. When my daughter was in fifth grade, she saw the Golden Girls (this is the high school drill team) perform and knew she wanted to be one of them. Two years later, she tried out for the the junior high drill team but didn't make it. We had a long weekend of her crying, me consoling, and friends offering sympathy. We all knew that if you didn't make it the first year, you'd never make it the second. And if you weren't a member of the junior high team, there was no way you'd ever be a Golden Girl.

After her tears quit coming, she bucked up and worked harder than she ever had. She sought out advice from other dancers, practiced non-stop, and prayed for the next year. She was the only one in the history of her junior high to not make it the first year and still try out the second. And guess what--she made it! And then a year later, she tried out for the Golden Girls and made that, too. She never gave up. She never doubted. And she never said: I can't.

So, why should I?

Vacation Time!

Well, sort of... We aren't going to the beach as this picture suggests. And it's not really a vacation. We're only going to Omaha for my eleven-year-old's baseball tournament. But my kids think it's a vacation--we are staying in a hotel, and the hotel does have a swimming pool. I think of it more as three days in the sweltering heat listening to umps yell things like: "STRIKE ONE!" or "HE'S OUT A THERE!" and of course the occasional "COME ON UMP! GET SOME GLASSES!" from the coaches. Fun times, fun times! I am also hoping to hear the crack of my son's bat against the ball and to watch that ball go over the fence. Okay, I'd settle for a line drive right in the hole. You see, he's been in somewhat of a hitting slump. But I admire him, though. He keeps his chin up and never gives up! That's how I want to be. Another lesson learned from my children. Wish Cameron (or Cam as he likes to be called now) luck. I think he has a shot. The name of the tournament is The Omaha Slumpbuster, after all. Let's hope it lives up to it's name!

Cute little guy, isn't he? A penguin with shoes! It doesn't get much better than that! I was so excited when I came across this picture. When I was twelve, I collected things with penguins on them. Yeah, I know it's weird, but it's true. I was fascinated by the waddling creatures.

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I also loved writing poetry. I already shared my poem, Piano Man. So, now I'll share my poem, A Penguin to Fly. As you are reading, please keep in mind I was only twelve when I wrote it.

Formally dressed in black and white

He knew it wasn't fair, nor was it right

He wobbled with his head held high

Wistfully awaiting the day he could fly

He could swim, he could slide

He could slip and he could glide

But he had yet to fly and soar

Though he had so much, he still wanted more

He tried and he tried till the day grew old

He kept trying still as the night grew cold

He didn't care about the dark or the chill

For to fly, he would try and try still

Though we all know he will never fly

He won't give up, again he will try

He'll try his hardest till he reaches his goal

Down there, near the South Pole

Now, you knew this part was coming--the part where I relate the penguin to my writing. Well, I'm glad I'm not that penguin. Because some day, I'm going to fly!

The Piano Man

In 1985, when big hair was all the rage, and most girls my age were listening to Madonna or Duran Duran, my good friend, Lisa, and I were infatuated with the Piano Man. Yes, I'm talking about my all-time favorite musician, Billy Joel. His Innocent Man album had recently put him back on the charts, but Lisa and I were more fond of his older stuff. Now, I'm not sure what triggered this memory today. I was standing in the local nursery amidst all of these beautiful flowers contemplating which ones to buy when I recalled this poem I wrote about Billy Joel when I was fifteen. At the time, writing poetry and listening to music were my favorite pastimes, so I guess I decided to combine the two. Here's what I came up with back in 1985: On a piano in Long Island He plays of Summer Highland But he wasn't always there Life isn't always that fair From the teenage gigs in town To sold-out concerts all around He had a dream and reached his goal He gave is life to rock 'n' roll We all have dreams of our own, but we don't try to reach the sky We take what comes and then grow old, and soon we die Unsatisfied and Forgotten He played his songs and sang along But it came to fast, and things went wrong And then, stuck, nowhere to turn But what's life if you never learn He picked up and went away Maybe he'd come back another day He made a new life in a new land Where the sun reflects off of the sand We all have dreams of our own, but we don't try to reach the sky We take what comes and then grow old, and soon we die Unsatisfied and Forgotten Things were bad but sometimes good He worked things out and did what he could When things weren't going right He never once lost sight Of the one most important goal He knew was true deep in is soul He tried his best to reach the sky And the dream he reached will never die We all have dreams of our own, but we don't try to reach the sky We take what comes and then grow old, and soon we die Unsatisfied and Forgotten I'm not going to go into the details of his life story, but I do want to point out that getting to where he is today was an uphill battle. He never gave up, though. Here's the kicker: As I remembered this poem, I also realized that someone of note had read my writing and liked it. That person was none other than Billy Joel himself. My older brother was attending Pepperdine at the time, and frequently jogged on the beach behind Billy Joel's Malibu home. One day, his then wife, Christie Brinkley, was sitting outside, and my never shy brother convinced her to let him bring my poem back to her. She, being the kind, beautiful super model that she was, agreed. My brother jogged back home, called my mom, and had her recite the poem over the phone to him. (This was before the days of fax machines and email, of course.) He quickly jogged back, and gave her the poem. Two weeks later, I received a very kind and appreciative hand-written letter from Billy Joel. (He never turned my poem into a song, but at least he wrote to me!) As I said before, why I thought of this today is beyond me, so I have to assume it was God giving me another reason to not give up. As my fifteen-year-old daughter taught me a lesson yesterday, my fifteen-year-old self, taught me one today.

DON'T GIVE UP!

I'm blogging late again, but it's not because I had a defeating day like yesterday. In fact, quite the opposite is true. I had an incredibly uplifting day. It isn't because I achieved some great success at getting published; it's because God gave me the answer I was looking for: DON'T GIVE UP! As a parent I try to be a good example for my kids. Sometimes I forget, though, that they also can teach me a thing or two and have on more than one occasion. Today was one of those occasions. As my daughter walked toward my car tonight lugging an enormous athletic bag, I was reminded of her perseverance and determination. Bright-eyed and grinning from ear to ear, she climbed into the car and immediately began pulling item after item out of the bag. "We wear this for practice. We wear this for competition. We wear this over our uniforms," she rattled off without taking a breath. I smiled. Her dream had come true--she was a Golden Girl. Now to fully appreciate why this was the answer I was looking for, you need to know where this story began. When my daughter was in fifth grade, she saw the Golden Girls (this is the high school drill team) perform and knew she wanted to be one of them. Two years later, she tried out for the the junior high drill team but didn't make it. We had a long weekend of her crying, me consoling, and friends offering sympathy. We all knew that if you didn't make it the first year, you'd never make it the second. And if you weren't a member of the junior high team, there was no way you'd ever be a Golden Girl. After her tears quit coming, she bucked up and worked harder than she ever had. She sought out advice from other dancers, practiced non-stop, and prayed for the next year. She was the only one in the history of her junior high to not make it the first year and still try out the second. And guess what--she made it! And then a year later, she tried out for the Golden Girls and made that, too. She never gave up. She never doubted. And she never said: I can't. So, why should I?