RED BULL

You know that kid that grew up down the block that you thought would never amount to anything.  Guess what?  He, she, did grow up to be something.  In fact I saw that kid on TV this past weekend.  I didn’t actually see THAT kid but a bunch of kids just like him or her. 

There were a bunch of them running amuck in Brazil on the X GAMES sponsored by Red Bull.  As I tuned in they were interviewing a girl skateboarder from the United States.  She was excitedly thanking everyone she has known since birth for helping her on her path to victory.  As she was talking they cut away to highlights of her performance.  There we see this cute, blond, girl-next-door flying through the air on her skateboard, wearing Van’s type sneakers, baggy pants and oversized double layer tee shirts down to her knee’s.  Arms flailing as she skids sideways down a rail while flipping her board over with her feet and plunging into a swimming pool with cement lumps in it made to enhance her performance. 

In what must be an orthopedic surgeons dream the X GAMES stages one event after another featuring the kid down the block.  Gangsta style hat on sideways or backwards, hair sticking out every which way, lots of plaid oversized shirts with droopy pants and attitude galore.  They look into the camera with this kind of FU, I don’t give a bleep look any person of authority knows well from having asked the kid down the block to tone it down a bit. 

These tatted up kids are now the envy of those that wish they had the stuff to do whatever they enjoy without any concern for what others think.  They are performing on TV, own their own surf, skate and snow board companies and clothing lines, endorse products and benefit in many ways open to free thinkers.  One of the top Red Bull motorcycle riders is a girl Vogue model who is deaf.    

Capitalizing on all this in one of the more genius advertising blitzes ever is Red Bull.  They have brilliantly created a glamorous, living-on-the-edge aura from a huge jolt of caffeine.  Funny, I had not previously related jumping off skyscrapers, hang gliding, surfing monstrous waves or driving a Formula I car to walking around all jittery from a caffeine fix.  Somehow Red Bull has made the world think there is a relationship. 

Frankly, if I’m about to attempt one of these death defying feats I would want ice water in my veins.  It would never occur to me in my adrenaline hyped state that I should, just for good measure, toss down a can of Red Bull containing 3 million grams of caffeine. 

If you doubt me, pick up a copy of the Red Bull magazine called The Red Bulletin some time.  It is aptly named “A Beyond the Ordinary Magazine”.  There are fascinating, edgy, quick, easy-to-read stories on most anything with risk involved, including, believe it or not, food and music.  A recent issue had a fascinating report on the Red Bull Startos, the Red Bull sponsored balloon.  In what is my candidate for the gutsiest human undertaking ever, a man jumps from a balloon 128,100 above earth, free falls for 119,846 feet at 833.9 mph before opening his chute for a safe landing.  Again, marketing genius.

I got a little off the subject there but the point is, next time you see one of those kids that look like they got a little carried away with the grunge look, smile to yourself.  I think it is safe to say some of our more creative thinkers come from their lot.            

    

PHONE CALLS

Few things make my heart flutter more than a phone call from one of our kids.  We have 4, a girl, a boy and then 2 more girls.  They cover a span of 7 years.  They are well along into leading their own lives.  The 2 oldest have blessed us with 5 heaven sent granddaughters while the 2 youngest are zeroing in on that part of their lives. 

As any parent can tell you, the flight from the nest is really a beginning.  Up to that point life has consisted of being in survival mode while preparing your kids for their lives.   In our case each of them took flight at varying stages of their lives.  All returned for spurts and eventually, well into our senior years, Terry and I had our first night alone in our house.

From that point on we observe from a distance, thankful for every family get together and fascinated by the growth of what were once our little guys wrapped in a pink or blue blanket.  The caring only intensifies. 

Thankfully they all live close by and we see them often.  But as they lead their own lives and deal with their own versions of survival mode, contact is not as frequent.  That’s why I treasure the phone calls.

There are phone calls and then there are phone calls.  I am thankful for all of them but I particularly treasure the calls that are made for no other reason than at that time they wanted talk to me about something in their life. 

Case in point:  One early morning recently I got a call from our son Forest.  I knew he and his family were In Cabo San Lucas for a short 4 day Easter week vacation.   He was calling from a fishing boat.  His wife Lina and their daughters Jordan and Kelly had balked at a pre-dawn departure but his life-long friend Dave, son of my life-long friend Richard (may he rest in peace), was with him.  It was 85 degrees and flat calm.  They had seen a few marlin.  Check with you later. 

Shortly after lunch Dave calls.  He is out of breath as he tells me they had just caught and released a 200 pound marlin.  He gives me a blow by blow and then thanks me for taking him fishing when he was a little kid.  I melt.  Then Forest gets on the line and excitedly details everything from strike to release.  In that moment, in my mind, it was he and I fishing together as we had countless times, a while back.  Later, he texted a picture of Dave fighting the fish.  My day was made.

I have also received calls from Forest as he is driving to or from an airport somewhere in the country, often in the middle of the night.  He tells me how things are going with his business, his wife Lina and daughters Jordan and Kelly.  We discuss many things and invariably end up talking USC football.  Quite often the conversation ends as he is sitting in a gas station or returning his rental car. 

A call from Erin proudly talking about her kids and their accomplishments is special.  I get to hear about band practice, a flirting boy or a mean teacher.  I love it.  Erin has had great success in her business career.  As she has progressed along the way she has called many times to see what I thought about a dilemma she had or a tough decision she had to make.  Facing the economy we have had the last few years she has been faced with decisions that dramatically affect people’s lives.  Hearing her thoughts and being included in the journey is priceless to me.    

Romy and I have spent countless hours discussing things.  I consider myself very lucky that she often shares the ride with me during a phone call.  I have called her so often her pet parrot Rico says “Hi Dad” when she answers the phone, before Romy has said “Hi Dad”.  We have talked about everything from a dog named Thatch she fell in love with but couldn’t keep, Rico attacking her, bands she loves and dealing with work related dilemma’s.  Perhaps the most special Romy call of all was recently when Kevinn proposed to her on bended knee, on the beach.  She called to tell us and it was several minutes before I could understand a word she said.  The inflection in her voice when she says “Hi Dad” or “Bye Dad” is heaven sent.

Molly and I have had some of my longest conversations.  Mostly because we are often dissecting a complicated business problem she is faced with.  Usually we start in the early evening and go to very late at night.  She is light years ahead of me when it comes to SAP, which is an accounting program she specializes in as an independent consultant.  I usually don’t have a clue what she is talking about but I feel there is value in the thought process that comes from explaining what the problem is to someone willing to listen.   We have literally talked right up to a midnight deadline for Molly to make a decision affecting many, many people and involving huge dollars.  I once talked with her for hours one night from a job I was on in Las Vegas about a career move she felt she had mistakenly made and wanted to correct.  She had to make a decision that night.

As the years have gone by and they become more enmeshed in their own lives, the calls have diminished, which only enhances my joy when hearing from them.  Each time, when I hang up, my day has gotten a little bit better.  Whether they have called for their benefit or mine I feel good.         

      

   

DEJA VU

I have run out of daughters.  Let me explain.  I have three.  One has been married long enough to provide us with three “this is what life is all about” granddaughters.  One has exhibited patience beyond belief in her pursuit of Mr. Right and the other has been in a kind of happy, go-with-the-flow holding pattern.  Seemingly circling the airport but in no hurry to land. 

A few weeks ago, documented in a blog called The Secret, the patient one, Romy,  got the down-on-one-knee, moon lit beach, proposal treatment from Mr. Right, Kevinn.  A proposal known to me 2 days in advance but, sworn to secrecy, I could not say anything.  I spent the 2 days avoiding phone calls and not making eye contact with loved ones.  It was torture.  Even though the request for secrecy was over the phone it was the equivalent of a firm handshake, look-me-in-the-eye commitment that no man worth his salt violates.  One of these in a life time is enough, right.  NOT!!

A scant few weeks later the holding pattern one, Molly, was coming by our house for dinner after work.  Her partner in the holding pattern, Marc, was meeting her at our house and had arrived early.  I was sitting in my TV chair cheering on one of my bracket picks in the March Madness pool.  Marc was sitting on the couch.  I noticed he was texting someone.  This is not uncommon in his line of never-off-the-clock work.  After seemingly enough time to write a novel he turned his phone to me to read the text.  Here is what I read:

     I've been wanting to ask you for your blessing on asking Molly for her hand in marriage but everyone is always around. It would be a honor to have your blessing. I don't want anyone else knowing please once again another secret.

Thanks

 

Marc Denny

Before I could get to the part about “another secret” I jumped up, gave Marc a fist bump and a hug, then turned to tell Terry, who was nearby preparing dinner.  Before I could get out a word Marc held his finger to his lips in the universal sign to keep quiet.  Marc whispered that two days hence, on Easter Sunday, they would make a formal announcement. 

Shortly thereafter Molly arrived, my team won and we had a delightful dinner.  All the time I am looking my life partner and my own flesh and blood in the eye and not divulging my secret.  And there are 2 more days to go.  This is inhumane. 

Flash forward to Easter Sunday.  Following a spirited Easter egg hunt we all sit down for a spectacular dinner hosted by Molly’s sister Erin and her husband, our resident chef James.  Someone asked me to say a blessing before dinner.  Immediately after I finished Marc, spoke up.  Being across the room I could not hear what he said but suddenly everyone was cheering and screaming with excitement.  Hugs and kisses followed.  Once free, Molly worked her way over to me and we hugged.  She was as radiant, content and happy as I have ever seen her.  Life is good.  No more secrets.