About me

The Obstacle Course

I'm an imperfect person who strives to improve.  Any respect I wish to attain from you derives from braving the truth in absolute honesty.  I invite you to come along as I walk you through my life.  Far more than a background check, The Obstacle Course reveals "the good, the bad, and the ugly".  (Click on "About me" to read more.) 

Among the best experiences in which I have ever been involved, I certainly include that of being on a winning team. The tough losses hurt to the core, but they only serve as the measure from which winning feels so great! Without the losses, the wins aren’t as sweet!

I remember when I was a kid in elementary school…I asked a high school athlete for a quarter so I could buy a bag of popcorn from the concession stand. I thought I was in heaven as I watched the varsity boys’ basketball team compete while I sat on the bleachers munching on the best popcorn I had ever tasted. I didn’t have the coolest clothes so naturally I sat alone, but wow what a moment!

The whole thing was great…the offense, the defense, the great shots, the applause, as well as the gymnastic talent of the cheerleaders. There was a high school whose cheerleaders could do multiple flips and cartwheels with no hands. There were so many cute boys everywhere you’d look. The invitational tournament was an event that beckoned me to the very core. I remember wishing I could stop the clock, because the moment would only last a few minutes for me since I had to watch the time so as not to miss the bus in ten minutes.

My parents were extremely strict, and I misunderstood their responsible hard love. I thought they were the meanest parents God could have possibly given me. In fact, I remember telling them as I cried, “I hate you! You’re so mean! All you know how to say is ‘no’!”

It only took me a few years after high school to realize how much they have always really loved me. Now in retrospect, they have been the best parents I could have ever asked for. I don’t find one single aspect within their style I'd change “♪…if I could turn-back time…♪”.

I think I owe my parents for the zeal I have for sports. Too much of a good thing becomes standard thus ordinary and not quite so cherished. Come to think of it, that probably explains why I enjoyed the ten minutes more than anyone on the bleachers who were allowed to stay for the entire tournament. Every year, I would find a way to watch as much of the invitational tournament as possible.

When I was in junior high, mom and dad didn’t let me try out for basketball. When classmates would leave for away-games, I would hold back the tears from the inner physical pain. I can still hear the sound of them gathering their things. Their excitement made the silence, once they left, unbearable as I remained dreaming of the day that I’d be able to wear the team uniform.

There were lots of out-of-town tournaments to which the basketball team would travel and stay for several days. Mom and dad would not compromise their decision. They would not shirk from their responsibility as parents regardless of the strict chaperone bargaining chip in my plea.

My parents did however allow me to join the track team because I didn’t have to stay overnight on any of the trips. When I was in the eighth grade, I made varsity and soon broke the school record in the one-mile run, previously held by a senior who had long since graduated.  Gradually, mom and dad's curiosity trumped their resistance to the beckoning of the season's home track meet.  They were proud of their little girl. Nonetheless, when Coach Trotter required a note from them approving my stay overnight for the state track meet, they would not allow it no matter how much I begged.

I remember as though it were yesterday…

The week before the state track meet, the practices were brutal. I waited till the last possible moment to relay my parents’ bargain to my coach. After the season’s last practice, I finally got-up enough nerve, ran, and caught-up with Coach Trotter as he walked away from the field toward the gym. I was shaking in my baggy gray sweats but I couldn’t postpone it any longer.

Coach Trotter was a very stern, disciplined, uncompromising, but fair man—respected by everyone. I couldn’t understand how some kids could find the comfort to relax in his presence.

Approaching at about ten feet behind him, my trembling words shocked my ears when I actually heard my voice call his name, “M-i-s-t-e-r T-r-o-t-t-e-r.”

He stopped walking and turned to face me as I began…

“M-m-my parents said I could go to the track meet…but I’ll have to ride with them…and stay the night with them in a motel.”

Well, the moment I had anticipated with nervous resistance took every bit of fifteen seconds and remains to this day the most painful of any rejection I would ever experience. It arguably affirms the axiom, “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Upon stating his position, my heart sank, but I lacked the confidence to convince him to reconsider, and of course I was too intimidated to even try. The shocking reality dragged my feet to the school’s purple and gold activity bus, at which I stared through heavy tears, painfully knowing that I would not be on it the following morning. Oh it hurt too much to cry, though I didn’t blame him.

No, I took it out on my parents. For an entire year, I held a grudge against my dad for not letting me go. The only time I’d talk to him was when asking for money before leaving for a track meet the following season. My dad didn’t have very much money but he’d somehow manage to give me a dollar or two each time I left town with the team.

The other kids would go to KFC, Burger King, or McDonalds; I could only afford to get something from Circle-K. I would conjure up an excuse so as to separate from my friends because I didn’t want them to know that I didn’t have enough money to join them. I would buy something from Circle-K then sit on a curb and, although I still held my grudge, I’d pretend my daddy sat right there next to me enjoying what we had bought.

It took me an entire year to get over my grudge and say something nice to my dad or give him a hug…up until the following year (my freshman year) when my parents let me go to state on the activity bus. It’s as though I can still see their expression, when they heard the people who packed the stadium loudly cheering for me on their feet, as I came inches from the senior who took first place.

I couldn’t believe I placed at state let alone second place. I was one happy kid; I had my parents there, I had the team uniform on, and a cool pair of borrowed shoes. I had never ever been so happy in all my life; and just when I thought my heart couldn’t pound any harder they gave me a silver medal. Some of the kids took being there for granted…I wanted it and was grateful with every fiber of my being! Although I was alone in a crowd, everything about me was smiling except for my lips…I knew I had to act cool as though it were just an ordinary day. One of the most popular seniors on our team was with all her friends walking by and tapped me on the stomach and said “Way to go!” And, well, that day I walked as though I had some confidence.

My freshman year and every year thereafter until my last track practice I didn’t miss-a-one! I poured out every ounce of energy onto that track.

The next year (my sophomore year), my parents finally let me try out for basketball; and my dream finally came true, when I was not only on the bleachers but on the basketball court as well. In that gym, I never brought the crowd to its feet but I was part of a team that did!

Years later in my professional career, during the ten years that I worked in DC, I received a call from my mom. She told me that Coach Trotter had died of a heart attack. It never occurred to me that Mr. Trotter would ever die. In my mind, he was invincible.

Well, at his wake, there was no shortage of admirers left behind. The old gym was no stranger to standing room only, but the sorrow it held was silent enough to hear teardrops and sniffles. Many people got up to speak about the man I so admired since we first met at the very spot I stood on that sad day.

I had since developed some confidence and gained some courage, but the knot on my throat kept me from making my way to the microphone, so I remained where I stood, clinching my favorite gold medal that I had planned on placing on his lapel.

I had some words, but they have not been said until today. This is what the knot on my throat didn’t let me say…

When I first met Mr. Trotter, I was in the fourth grade. Like a drill sergeant, his voice COMMANDED my respect!

Through the years, I would notice that his character did not only confirm his high standards but his standards served to implicitly set the challenge for everyone who knew him as well. His stern voice was amplified by the discipline that defined him. His presence alone managed to warrant a sense of order in this high school…a school so honored to have him as part of the teaching-staff. With each passing year, I noticed that his expectations were the same high standard for everyone.

I admired the kids who were smart enough to take his physics and chemistry classes. I, however, had to repeat biology, having flunked on my first attempt. My little brother, Ben, managed to get straight A’s on all three of his classes; and for once I was proud of the little brat.

During class, Mr. Trotter would joke with everyone but seemed to ignore me. I tried so hard to do well in his class, but I guess my then lack of interest in academics did nothing to earn any “brownie points”. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help noticing his appreciation for those who made their way for induction into the National Honor Society—Mr. Trotter’s “cup of tea”.

Mr. Trotter had a special bond with those who excelled in both academics and sports. He made that quite clear at the end of the year as he handed out awards for scholastic athletes. (I could only dream of being so smart!)

In awe of the leadership by which Mr. Trotter “raised the bar” in standards for everyone at whatever level, in retrospect it was through this quality that Mr. Trotter EARNED my respect!

Finally, during my senior year in high school, those in the track team who qualified for state were scattered about the football field. This practice would be my last!

Initially, it was drizzling and then the rain began to really come down. Mr. Trotter called out for everyone to join him at the center of the football field, inside the track’s quarter-mile circumference. By the time we gathered around him, the rain had turned into hail.

Depending on whether we were short-distance or long-distance runners determined how many laps he would assign for us to run inside the gym. Upon receiving our instruction, we took off toward the gym. No sooner had we begun running, when Mr. Trotter called out my name, “Rebecca! Not you! You still have a ‘thirteen-twenty’ to run!” (That’s three laps around the football field.)

As I walked to the starting line, I was perplexed with disbelief. On my mark, I turned to face him. When I saw the motion of his raised hand lower, I knew this so familiar cue to begin running. The wetness of the hail combined with my tears, which were hence unnoticeable and I therefore didn’t hold them back. While running the first and second lap, I wondered: “Why the heck does he hate me so much? Why is it that everyone else gets his warmth and I only get this cold side? In class, when others question something he says, he teases them with his signature statement, ‘Are you impugning my veracity?’ I don’t even know what that means, but what I wouldn’t do so that he’d be nice to me—just once! Also, when someone’s caught chewing gum, he playfully assigns the number of floor tiles they will have to scrub with a toothbrush on the last week of the school year. I, however, sometimes chew gum on purpose to see if he will even notice me…now this? Why is he so strict with me?”

Well, I was in tip-top shape. I had run up miles of steep hills on my own aside from Coach Trotter’s relentlessly arduous training. On days we didn’t have practice, my uncle would drop-me-off the bus seven miles from home, and I’d run the rest of the way. My mom had several nutrition books that she was constantly seen reading. She fed me the best diet conducive for optimal performance, some of which was tough to wash down!

All the emotional confusion, the anger, and the adrenaline deemed the first two laps nothing for the shape I was in! I wasn’t brave or intelligent enough to “tell him off”, and I wouldn’t let him know that I was crying! In my anger I could no longer feel the hail nor hear it. All I could feel or hear was my list of silent questions…each starting with why?

Then the answer to all these questions as well as five years of distance and confusion suddenly became extremely clear upon completing the second lap with only one lap to go, the answer rang in my ears…it was his voice which had lost every bit of stern, as I heard these words from him, “Come on Hun, we only have one more lap!”

The pain, the self-pity, and the anger suddenly matured into a big smile on my overworked little heart as I recognized, “I’m not alone out here…” Mr. Trotter was every bit as drenched as I was. Only then had I really noticed, “Wow! This mean man is out here in the hail with me!” It was not until that very moment that I realized that Mr. Trotter really DESERVES my respect!

All that combined with the fact that that last lap would be the last “quarter” I would run in practice, I’ll bet all my gold medals it was the fastest quarter-mile I had ever run on that track!

At state, I would place first in both the one-mile and two-mile. I had never heard Mr. Trotter cheering for anyone! The crowd’s cheering was the loudest I had ever heard! And, for the first time on my very last one-hundred-meter stretch toward the finish line, I heard Mr. Trotter’s loud, distinctive voice of approval clearly yelling several times, “Come on Rebecca!”

Coach, as you sit on the palm of God’s hand, if this knot on my throat will allow my little voice to reach you…in all my life, few enough have cared about me as much! That ‘thirteen-twenty’ as well as this part of the book are dedicated to one awesome human being! You have been in my “National Honor Society” of role models ever since! Through the generous heart of your wife, son, and daughter (Ruth, Tyke, and Jodi) for having shared with us all those years such a pillar of strength, Coach Trotter, I have one last thing to say to you: Here’s to respecting you!

.                .                .                .                .                .

Unlike when I sat on the bleachers—alone—dreaming of the day that I’d wear the team uniform, I never had to dream of being an American…that’s something I just took for granted, but with that I’m not at all alone! As far back as I can trace, the US-citizenship of my ancestors’ goes way back to America’s infancy. Obviously as a little girl therefore, I didn’t really know what a great treasure I would one day find in simply being able to say, “I was born in the USA!”

What an honor to be born into such a great country—a gorgeous land of opportunity—wherein the only bound is a well-written Constitution, requiring only that we carry the torch with discipline and courage to preserve, protect, and defend its pillars of liberty and justice for all!

Citizenship of the United States is unfortunately taken for granted until we visit other countries, wherein citizens don’t have the opportunities we get here from the very first moment we are conceived. The more we pursue our dreams, the more the opportunity is sustained for those whose home it’ll be when you and I have passed-on the baton.

Pursuing our dreams is an obstacle course of many peaks and valleys, mountains and cliffs, oceans and ponds, lakes and swamps. There are weeds of poison and fields of wheat. There are plants of cactus and gardens of rose. There are thunderstorms and forest fountains by which wild animals roam. “♪…some days are diamonds, some days are stone…♪”. There are days that are grueling and some that are serene. There are tornadoes and hurricanes but sunny beaches in between. There are volcanoes and moments of cool breeze. I’ll let you in on my obstacle course if you please…

Looking back on the “rearview mirror”, my interests seem to have paved a road full of obstacles. Ironically, the dummy in my mirror, who hated school, seems to have been a perpetual student, and of course the obstacles that seemed to get in the way appear to have been my greatest teachers. Without them, my education would have proven a brilliant waste of time. The remains, therefore, would be nothing more than a few impressive lines on a fool’s resume.

At eighteen and nineteen, I didn’t set out to go through life with the use a specific map; but “hindsight’s twenty-twenty”, and when added up, the axiom “Life begins at forty” somehow starts to make sense.

Still “green and wet behind the ears”, I optimistically thought it would be easy and merely thought I had to do what everyone else does. All along, I thought I was on my way to success. I did what everyone else did; I felt patriotic and so responsible. And, although there were lots of obstacles, I conquered them and knew that if I just ride out the storm, I would graduate into my thirties and forties as a success! Looking back, boy was I naïve!

I thought that degrees, titles, money, and material would launch me to arrive at the fine status from which all obstacles, packed with all mistakes of the former fool in me, would gradually disappear as I climbed into the utopia of success!

On the polar opposite of such blinding delusion, it is in fact the obstacles that were packed with the real treasure from which my mistakes highlight any understanding, knowledge, and wisdom I dare claim as my only success.

In retrospect, if I had a choice of coasting through life with the utopian luxury of ease or of navigating through the challenging imperfections of the real world, I would certainly choose to experience the obstacle course!

The “rearview mirror” brings to clear view the obstacles. They link with those that are oncoming and are clearly like keys serving to unlock the obstacle course as I pursue my dreams. Upon noticing this, I began to look for pertinent obstacles with anticipation; and once I find them I gladly welcome them.

From every experience with which I struggle and learn, time allows for the opportunity to either become wiser or denser. When I can become stronger than my weaknesses, I learn that my strength only stands to improve because of my deficiencies. This is the catalyst for growth along the obstacle course of a free American citizen’s dream. Along the journey, yes the obstacles however painful are the best educating steps toward any improvement or success that I’ve come to recognize in me, and I vividly remember them well…

In high school, I was quite the athlete. In the eighth grade, I “made varsity” on the track team and qualified for state on the one-mile run, but as mentioned earlier I didn’t go. My freshman year, I placed second in the mile. My sophomore year, I placed first. My junior year, I placed first in the two-mile and second in the one-mile. My senior year, I placed first in both the one and two-mile run and broke the times of the state record during the Junior Olympics.

At the end of my senior year, my track coach handed me my science report card after saying: “I received a call from Columbia University last night. The head track coach called to ask about you for a possible full scholarship, but I had to inform him of your grades, upon which he was no longer interested.”

(Being from such a small town, I wondered how someone from New York City could know that I existed.)

This has been something I have carried with me since…not as something bad but as something from which a valuable lesson could be learned.

Nonetheless, while in college the following year, I soon placed this lesson on the “backburner”. I could not become interested in school for the life of me. I really had no idea what I was doing in college. On springboard diving I got an A but straight F’s on all other classes. At the end of my freshman year, as no surprise, I was placed on academic alert.

During that year, I tried to get a job at several fast-food restaurants, and although there were openings, I could not get a job. Having lived in a small town until college, “the big city” was a bit intimidating to naïve little ole me. I guess I was too insecure and lacked the confidence that would gain the interest of a fast-food restaurant manager.

This was “tough to digest”. I was aimless and quite lost as to where to go and what to do. Throughout the entire summer, I agonized with what I would do because of my failed attempt at college, and without marketable skills, getting work would be difficult.

I decided therefore to try enlisting in the military. I figured since I was athletic I might appeal to the military. Sure enough, I was accepted. (Since my dad had served with the Air Force, I thought I would too, but I had to wait six months. The Army took me immediately, so I signed on the dotted line.)

Then my dad told me, “You will learn who you are!”

I thought, “What the heck does that mean? And, what does he know?” But, he was right; I was about to get an education! Traveling the world, I soon learned how terribly naïve I really was. However, I was poised for an opportunity to learn a heck of a lot more than that. I would learn more in the next four years with the military in a multitude of subjects mostly as a private than I could have possibly imagined.

In retrospect, the fact that I was so naïve, although painfully obvious, turns out to be the very aspect from which learning was so great an opportunity. In another continent, not only was I alone but also my nickname was airhead; and the reason it hurt so much stemmed from the fact that it wasn’t only insulting but it was true!

During my four years with the military, aside from the responsibilities to which I was assigned, I was interested in learning about people. Unlike the small town where I spent my childhood, there were lots of people in the military. I was intrigued by our differences with regard to mannerism, talent, dialect, accent, color, religion; but the more I learned, the more similarities I found. As I learned about these strangers, they gradually became my friends and eventually more like brothers and sisters. As our friendships blossomed, I began to learn my role, their role, and ultimately the collective role of our military.

In my fascination, I became attracted to intelligence across the rank spectrum. Without restriction to rank: on the non-commissioned side, I found human beings with brilliant minds from private to sergeant to command sergeant major; on the commissioned side, from lieutenant to colonel to general; on the special-forces side, from ranger to seal to Green Beret. I learned a lot about people as well as the overall role of our military.

When I was told that my unit would deploy to Saudi Arabia for Operation Desert Shield/Storm, I was shocked. The commander said that he would interview us individually and conveyed an implicit message that seemed to be a decision that each of us should make…whether to go or shirk with a great excuse.

When I enlisted, it never even crossed my mind; I didn’t even think of the possibility of being faced with having to deploy to war! I obviously hadn’t given much thought as to what I would do if faced with the decision whether to kill or be killed representing and defending the principles for which America stands; all I signed on for…all I wanted was a job.

I, therefore, called my dad in my state of confusion. I was hoping he would give me some answer so that maybe I wouldn’t have to go—a religious reason perhaps. Desperately, I thought I’d pose a hypothetical situation. I went out to use the phone in the lobby so nobody in the office would see or hear me crying. I asked him, “Daddy what am I suppose to do if someone is pointing his weapon at me?” I was scared for the first time in my life! Yes, I was looking for a way out!

His answer was: “We’ve got to defend our country, but you must let your conscience be your guide!”

There was a long line to the Commander’s door. I got in the line. When it was my turn, I knocked on the door, walked in, and tried to be strong. Deep down, I wasn’t so strong but I stood tall and said, “I can go, I will go.”

I packed a duffle bag with all my military gear and tried to take my favorite stuffed animal and as many pictures of family and friends that would fit in an already stuffed bag.

I carried my duffle bag, rucksack, gasmask, and weapon to board the plane for deployment. I was specifically instructed not to take off my boots but I had a “mind of my own”. I took them off regardless of the clear instruction I had received. Well, regrettably upon arrival, I had a terrible time fitting my swollen feet into my combat-boots. Nonetheless, fear of the unknown and desperation somehow facilitated their fit.

The naïve girl in my early twenties didn’t know upon deploying how my “conscience would guide”, but while in the Middle East, it became extremely clear. I have been scared twice in my life…during Desert Storm was certainly one of those times.

About 2:30 AM, we deplaned in a pitch-dark field. I somehow forgot about the aching swollen feet in my boots, and having learned a painful lesson, I obeyed my commander. With all of our gear, we quietly and obediently ran for about fifteen minutes into the unknown.

After a few hours, daylight revealed a sense of surreal DejaVu from some movie I had seen in the distant past. Some friendly natives were driving us to our destination in school buses with curtains. The drivers were literally racing one another while jumping curbs, inches from hitting other buses. Suddenly, our fright transformed into delirium, and recognizing buddies in the other buses, we began to root for our driver. In the midst of confusion and off-kilter from a normal circadian rhythm, the human being can still muster a genuine smile.

Well, after settling into our temporary quarters in Dhahran, there were huge warehouses packed full of mail from fellow Americans. Lots of the mail was addressed “To Any Soldier”. The sense of unity cannot be measured with words, but I get choked-up each time I recall that treasured memory of America’s loving support. Also, the sense of patriotism and responsibility to a country that has kept me safe and inspired cannot be fully understood except by those who have placed themselves in harm’s way such as the austere environment of war for the purpose of defending someone’s freedom.

During peacetime, I had traveled to many countries and had already gained awareness from a vast spectrum of geography, ethnicity, culture, religion, government, language, technology, and race, but I was so naïve that I didn’t even know racism between countries and within America still existed. Oh, I had “learned” about it in government and history classes, but there’s nothing like the learning that’s up close and personal.

We were terrified of weapons of mass destruction each and every day we were there…not because of arguments we heard in the news and not because of what briefings of warning were conveyed to us by headquarters, but because of what we witnessed with our own two eyes—gasmasks! Yes, the other side had gasmasks! Suddenly, having been through basic training, any soldier with any commonsense whatsoever shockingly understands the necessity for such training is due to the fact that some militaries obviously don’t abide by the rules of the Geneva Convention. Retrospectively, the training in the gas chamber that had seemed like pointless torture suddenly becomes a grateful memory; and forgetting one’s gasmask or mop-gear thereafter becomes the most frightening experience of panic known to mankind!

The greatest lesson was how easy it is to take our freedom for granted. I learned the meaning of this word in Desert Storm in Saudi Arabia. My buddies and I couldn’t help but learn the meaning of which we’ll never forget. I cannot even attempt to define this word, because unless you have been a soldier of freedom in a war situation, you cannot possibly understand fully the beauty of the most fascinating, most respectable, most gratifying, and my most favorite word in the dictionary—FREEDOM!!!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I should like to say some words to my dad…

Daddy, thanks for introducing me to adulthood and for having the courage to “♪…turn me loose from your hands and let me fly to distant lands…♪” so that I could try out my “wings” by telling me, “Let your conscience be your guide.” I guess if I’m willing to die for my country, I can certainly do my best to defend it! Thanks also for later correcting yourself when you added “informed” to the line of advice…“Let your informed conscience be your guide.”…Wise advice for any endeavor!

While in Desert Storm, I learned several things. I became acquainted with the meaning of freedom for the first time in my life. The most profound lesson was the level of courage and responsibility a freedom fighter can experience with the awesome support of a united America whose noble principles are absolutely worth defending!!!

Although restricted to the military compound, I felt an urge to get-to-know the natives. Due to the dangerous nature of war, it was difficult to gain the courage through which to go and chat with them. Nonetheless, with my guard up—having the residual benefit of expertise from friends in the Special Forces—I eventually went to “the other side” and sat with four of the enemy.

They had rugs spread out on the sand. We drank some nice tea from brass teacups. I wanted to know about them…I found in their conversation that during the day, they were characters living in someone else’s nightmare and when they slept, their dreams were every bit as serene as yours and mine.

I am completely convinced that I understand people regardless of the nationality because I’m back home safe and sound writing this book on my American patio; I couldn’t have misunderstood “the enemy”. They are human beings who are misunderstood and uninspired like many of us here in America. Obviously, there isn’t much of an attempt to understand one another. They are ordinary human beings with strengths and weaknesses just like us…but there is absolutely nothing ordinary about any human being!

I can’t help but admire all human beings who are so patriotic that they will give their all! Anyone who will lay down his life for the benefit of others is one who has my utmost respect…but we mustn’t misconstrue the word courage with cower, or martyrdom with suicide.

I’ll elaborate later on the chapters addressing National Security the reasons that war is unfortunately sometimes necessary…usually because of negligence in the past regarding the genuine desirable effort to mutually build meaningful relationships, as opposed to the superficial diplomacy that is every bit as worthless as the relationships’ lack of depth. The contributions from both the republicans and democrats have some merit. If only each of the sides here in America would lighten up on the hatred, commonsense could make way to reveal just how simple all this really is. (Elaboration on this subject is obviously necessary; for now, however, I’ll continue to introduce the obstacle course of my life’s journey.)

Upon completion of my four-year enlistment, I received an honorable discharge from the Department of Defense and moved to my fiancée’s hometown—Washington, DC. I was immediately accepted into the civil sector of the Federal Government. For ten years, I worked with the Department of Health and Human Services. I had a difficult time adapting but managed to get a firm grasp on how the government operates.

Not only was I a college student but a student at the office as well, learning our system of government…what an education!

While earning my first degree, I paid for the lack of preparation that an honorable high school GPA would have proven beneficial. I struggled to write papers half astute as those of my peers. However, I persevered until I graduated. I learned study habits that would prepare for the subsequent degree on which I would later embark.

Within the ten years in DC, I “rubbed elbows” with shrewd lawyers, administrators appointed by the President, executive officers, world renowned physicians, and Department of Justice attorneys. In fact, I went to a fun business meeting in a cookout setting at the home of one of the attorneys in Bethesda, MD. The activities were fun, the food was delicious, the beer was refreshing, the company was perspicacious, and the meeting was successful. This setting allowed us to personalize our contacts as opposed to focus simply on business.

I went to as many events as possible. I looked for any opportunity to get a chance to listen to the intimate interests and viewpoints of human beings employed in the House and Senate (usually less staged off-camera). I wanted to know about these human beings who have stepped up so courageously. I took advantage of many opportunities to understand their positive work. I especially enjoyed it when they’d put on a Breakfast, comprising a healthy combination of the proper and the casual.

Actually, there are some remarkable human beings in DC. I respect each and every one of them…not because of their titles but because of their courage and strength to continually get up every morning to go to work and do their absolute best from their minds, hearts, sweat, and tears only to get repeatedly insulted. Well, I for one respect them. They, like my high school coach, have the opportunity to command my attention, earn my vote, and deserve my respect!

I couldn’t help but learn how the Federal Government operates. I learned quite a lot. I was in and out of every office in DC. In fact, although I never worked directly with the FBI or CIA, I have some friends in each.

I’ve gone to the ends of the Earth with the military and have been up close and personal with “the enemy”. However, there’s one thing that boggles my mind and is still far from my understanding…and that is the perplexing distinction between the military and the civil sector of the government. I cannot fathom the rationale—civil sector? I found less animosity with the military, and I’ve been to war!

The strength of gridlock, wow! It’s so strong, the Hoover Dam pales in its comparison. Gridlock prevents bad ideas and good ideas as well…“two steps forward and three steps back”. Gridlock is quite simply a lack of interest to communicate or work together. Incredibly, however, they do get some good concepts accomplished nonetheless. With so much misunderstanding between them, it truly is amazing.

The House and Senate ought to make a nice elaborate piece of art with the most exquisite piece of marble money can buy, framed with platinum and engraved in pure gold the quote “Can’t we all just get along?” Obviously, the FBI and CIA could likewise benefit from a similar collaborative effort.

Perhaps if there wasn’t so much animosity within our government, we could respect and improve an exemplary role model (beginning with the represented reflection in each of our mirrors). We just might recognize that opposition will offer resistance, whereas collaboration will serve to improve any problem.

The divided nature of gridlock sure defies the name of our country and challenges those of us who care to improve our home without adding to the resentment. Communication among gridlock is about as smooth as the transition to the next paragraph.

Anyway, while employed with the Department of Health and Human Services, I decided to supplement my experience with theory. As I worked full-time, I attended an accelerated healthcare curriculum. On this degree, I was shocked to be getting straight A’s, but in the end I got a B on my final exam in legal issues on healthcare and ended up with a 3.92 grade point average.

The most profound lesson that I learned would eventually prove sad but true. I had the same professor for Economics and Finance who started each of his night classes by walking in and asking, “What’s the bottom line?”

Invariably, someone would say “Health!” Kind of tired from an already full day, we would certainly wake up by his shouting, “NO! IT’S ABOUT MONEY!”

This professor was quite the character and would make me laugh. Throughout each workday in DC, I grew accustomed to ambiguity so direct statements were refreshing. This professor was one of my favorites though they were all great…I guess because I was extremely interested in the entire curriculum. If I had not been, they would have all been boring, right? Isn’t that how it works? If you don’t want to be there, you hate everything about school? Well, I enjoyed it very much!

Another lesson I learned was this: My achievement in school was not attributed to brilliance. In fact, initially I was almost convinced of my ineptitude since I had previously performed quite poorly in school. Rather, I attribute my learning and good grades to interest, discipline, and determination.

Such qualities were the catalyst for my desire to somehow help improve the healthcare “issue”, which beckoned me from the Private Sector in the Southwest where I accepted a position as a Healthcare Administrator. I learned the fundamental challenges of healthcare in the hospital setting.

There were nine facilities supplementing this healthcare system. For the first couple months, I was sent to most of them to learn their system(s). It appeared that they were impressed with my résumé and were attempting to make the most of what I brought to their organization since I was placed in the facility that was in most disarray. The employees were underpaid and uninspired; I felt honored to have been acknowledged as someone who could successfully fix the mess.

I had learned back when I worked in the Federal Government that every four-to-eight years, administrators for the many agencies are replaced with new appointees by each new US-President. With good intention of course, some appointed administrators would alter protocol by implementing unique preferences. For example, a simple change in font preference and semantics could potentially be the cause to replace letterhead in the tens of thousands. This usually would cause more work and decrease productivity because of such frequent occurrence.

I did not want to be that kind of administrator. Therefore, I made it a priority to learn what worked and fix only what was “broken”.

My first priority would be to learn my role and my responsibilities therein. My duties would be: paying bills, daily reports, staffing, managing the operations, paying the staff, and oddly enough punishing the employees.

There were hundreds of extremely late unpaid bills stuffed in a large box in a corner of my office. The physical-therapy authorizations had been terribly neglected. Updating this alone was a full-time job even for the most motivated of my employees. The understaffed team’s favorite part of the job was COB (close of business).

The authority to staff the place was restricted to approximately ten applications—all of which were extremely outdated. Some were so old that the telephone numbers were no longer associated with the applicants. Upon hiring new employees, the uninspired staff would have to do the training.

Throughout the day, I would get visits from the physicians and medical assistants complaining about one another. The complaints from the MAs were frequently about the doctors being condescending; the complaints from the doctors were often about the MAs’ incompetence. (It was just a matter of personality clash, lack of motivation, and an extreme teamwork deficiency.)

The person to whom I reported had the formal education of that of a medical assistant, but her potential leadership received my respect. One’s qualifications are not necessarily derived from credentials on a résumé. (As a former presidential candidate so profoundly stated, “It’s not the length of my résumé, it’s the strength of my vision!”) As far as I’m concerned, knowledge, work ethic, management style, skill, teamwork, discipline, vision, and leadership are of greater significance than accumulated degrees and job titles found on a résumé. I would have given a janitor and a world-renowned physician equal opportunity to warrant my respect by proving themselves capable of leadership. Ya aint gotta know grammar or medicine to efficaciously manage a hospital; you could be a great manager without knowing much about either; but where leadership is concerned, you do have to know, understand, and care about human beings!

How my boss obtained the position was of no concern to me. She would visit my office periodically and would tell me of how she was known for her group write-ups when she had my position and strongly recommended I do the same…punish the staff for the daily mistakes.

As you can imagine, I had a challenge, but I thrive on great challenges. I was certainly up to the challenge. My only limitation being: there are only twenty-four hours in a day.

My priority was to meet with all staff members individually and understand the pertinent goals and dreams of each. I wanted to encourage their discipline and success. If employment there was not part of their goal, I was prepared to help them find employment where their goals could be realized. (I can write an effective résumé, can talk to employers in any field with a potential recommendation, and know plenty of CEOs on a first-name basis.) Likewise, if their goals could be enhanced as my employees, I was prepared to gradually develop incentive, health, improvement, progress, and compensation for a caliber of teamwork by which all healthcare facilities would be led to such heights that my highly motivated team would so inspire…toward the common good…of not only the employees or the patients but the employees and the patients. Eventually, I would meet with those whom I did not supervise. My goal was to serve as the quarterback, if you will.

I did not demand respect; I was on my way to earning it by first respecting each and every one of them. I certainly know this is not accomplished by malicious punishment. Polite and subtle tyranny is by no means discipline intrinsic of real leadership.

Their past did not concern me. All of them were on their “starting blocks” poised to inspire a real leader concerned primarily in their goals, their motivation, and their brilliant future. It was my turn, as it were, to let somebody borrow my shoes.

Many a night, I worked until 2:00 AM with determination unknown even to me. I never had such a difficult but exciting challenge. Rather than being focused on job security, my objective was to improve the system with a vibrant team. Instead of conforming to the management style of malicious punishment, I started having meetings with employees individually to enhance enjoyment in rewarding work by inspiring them. Each one of them was smart, cool, and had huge potential.

The morale was up and the future was beginning to look great for all of us. In fact, it wasn’t long when things started happening! I had only been there three weeks when, one Friday afternoon, I got an out-of-state surprise visit from headquarters.

A distinguished-looking gentleman walked in and everyone got nervous! He walked into my office and wow was I busy! We didn’t have an appointment. It was about noon and I thought, “Oh what the heck it is lunchtime at least.” Initially I was merely being polite but really wanted to get back to work. Then I noticed that we had lots in common, and the interruption began to be more like a breath of fresh air. Our conversation began to convince me that hmm does he have a position for me at headquarters? His hints were obvious! I couldn’t believe my ears! I thought, “Wow the Private Sector really knows how to work swiftly”.

Staff members periodically knocked on the door to give me a message or to have me sign something, and before long, they were trying to get my attention through the window as they smiled and waved leaving for the weekend. It was well past 5:00 when the gentleman walked me to my car.

He asked me to go have a drink with him. It would have been nice but I had plans…a date with my boyfriend.

On my way home I thought: “What a nice man! And, what the heck am I going to do about the staff that has really become a big part of my heart? I can’t just leave them because of another position.” I wouldn’t leave, or so I thought.

In a very good mood, my boss buzzed me on the phone a week later and told me to rush over to her office downtown; it would only take five minutes. I could tell she had some news.

Although I was busy, I was anxious to go. Trying to hide my excitement, I went into the powder room, touched up my makeup, and I was out the door. It was gorgeous out; I had the sunroof open, the windows down, and Bono’s voice singing “It’s a beautiful day”!

No trouble finding parking. I walked in and sure enough, five minutes later, I walked out; but no, I didn’t return to my old office because that day I got the surprise of my life. I expected something but this was news beyond my greatest expectations. I had experienced the great feeling of promotions in the past but wow prior to that day I had never ever been fired!

Ouch! I felt like an air balloon gaining altitude that suddenly lost all energy after falling further than the ground. I could have filed a complaint but didn’t see much point. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted.

My zeal was deflated, and I lacked the courage to go out and get another job. I went through the motions, found jobs, and interviewed for them simply because I had bills and needed an income to survive. Getting a job is not exactly easy when discouraged; and appealing to an employer’s objective is the greatest challenge when sympathy is the most an interview can inspire. I did not get a job. Actually I could not get a job because I did not want a job. I had lost all enthusiasm. This was a sad time for me; but it was an opportunity for me to understand “what I’m made of”.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I should like to say some words to the person who fired me…

I have learned so much since then. My strength can likely teach you so pay attention!

My only hope for you is this...I hope you will find this book, read it, understand it, and reach the stars of success because of it. My heart forgives you; my mind thanks you.

You opened the door to the toughest challenge along my “obstacle course”; but the more difficult the obstacle, the greater the reward. I understand responsibility-overload; you had many duties, but if my vision is clear, your mistake may have served to strengthen a nation.

Pat yourself on the back…not for the mistake but for the reward of wisdom because of it.

Flaws, imperfections, and mistakes can be the greatest of teachers. I’m not blaming you, I’m relating with you; surely, your collective mistakes pale in comparison to mine.

I have made so many mistakes. I have done stupid things and have also repeated mistakes. Believe me…I have made lots of mistakes myself.

You helped me understand the meaning of victim. I cried and felt sorry for myself. I thought I would rather die than have the courage to rejoin the workforce. I was as pathetic as a human being can possibly get. However, I can now even relate to a victim. Thank you for that.

If this book teaches you anything about management and leadership, I hope to see you at my door, unannounced asking me for a job. I would be honored to return the favor having learned so much because of your gesture, which was nothing more than a mistake. No one got hurt, just my pride. I’m resilient; it took a while but I healed and found some humility…strength that otherwise would not have extended to my benefit.

I quickly drained my checking and savings accounts. I found temporary relief in the unemployment and welfare system. Fortunately, because of these programs, rock bottom does not mean starvation. For a few months, I used one of those welfare cards to buy food while receiving pitiful looks from those behind me at the cashier line. Being a strong person, I found being dependent for my food extremely difficult and sometimes sensed a challenge to hold my head up with my dignity in check in a swamp of despair. But the one thing I did not want was a job that required a suit because my mind was no longer available for hire!

With a broken spirit and a shattered confidence, I temporarily found relief with manual-labor in the wood business. I don’t know of any work that is more physically challenging, exhausting, and dangerous than cutting and loading firewood (from damaged trees due to the bark beetle). I managed to learn first-hand about the connection our forests have with the environment. I helped load wood into a small truck from which to transfer into a thirteen-and-a-half chord semi-truck’s trailer. I learned how to operate a chainsaw. I have always been athletic with keen hand-and-eye coordination, and although I only weigh 130 pounds, I’m strong and quite agile.

I wore goggles to protect my eyes from the sawdust; but while cutting without chaps, I slid and the chainsaw shredded my jeans and tapped my shin. The scene was gory; I will not go into detail. I will just say that the sharp teeth of the chain could have taken out my left foot. Fortunately, I was only injured to the extent of which the fifteen stitches left a mere scar as a safety reminder. Vitamin E could fade the scar, but I’d rather keep it as a lesson learned and as something with which I can better imagine what someone with a “stub” on crutches must have to endure. Although I made a stupid mistake with respect to safety by leaving my chaps in the truck, when someone on crutches or in a wheelchair needs help, I will go out of my way to do whatever I can to help.

Slowly but surely, I found courage to reenter the workforce (still with manual-labor!) but not quite as labor-intensive or dangerous. I began recognizing prospects for employment as I cleaned houses to merely get-by. I cleaned for someone who had endured five surgeries on his wrist, four of which were corrective surgeries.

He seemingly had a pinched-nerve on his wrist that was causing numbness, which the surgeries did not correct. I massaged his wrist and told him that I’d do it again in a week. Neither one of the nerves on his wrist along the radius or the ulna had been damaged or severed from the surgeries; so feeling was restored with volcanic oil and massage. It was just a pinched-nerve.

He was so impressed that he soon convinced me that there was a market for massage. I pondered all the reasons that I couldn’t build my own business such as no place, no money, no phone, and moreover I was only accustomed to working within the legal system. I had always walked the straight and narrow, but still bitter from having been fired, the transition was only too inviting for the chip on my shoulder and my rebellious state of mind.

Shortly before placing an ad in the paper, I was given a cell phone, and drove to the addresses of my clients until I could afford an apartment. Soon, I met-up with a massage therapist who warned me of legal ramifications and suggested I place an ad on the net instead. The price was irrefutable because it was free. It wasn’t the most modest of websites, but having had no problem with an ad on the newspaper next to the very same caliber, I didn’t see much difference on the net. Besides, my ad was direct and not at all misleading, but even if it were misconstrued for being on such a websites, pride was less of a factor than food in my fridge.

Certificates supported the opportunity, knowledge on physiology qualified my confidence, and my awareness in sports further supplemented experience toward the great massage I could provide.

I designed the best atmosphere for massage. I decorated my massage room with the right lighting, scents, and sounds. I closed off the light from the window and dressed it with beautiful silk curtains of rose. For the walls, I selected art pieces such as one depicting the Niagara Falls, and in the corner, water trickled over rocks for a serene setting of sounds. I acquired quite a collection of music, ranging from Native American Indian flutes to rainstorms to soundscapes to jazz. The tones would guide the depth of pressure through a medium or deep tissue massage.

Initially, I would ascertain first-time clients’ physical ailments, soreness, lactic-acid buildup, sinus headaches, shin splints, numbness, injuries, tightness, and stress; and my specialty became eliminating numbness caused by pinched-nerves.

My clients were extremely successful men and women. There were countless invitations to partner-up in their exceptionally lucrative companies or to be part of their think-tank; but the last thing on my mind was to help improve a company, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to ever see the inside of another office. Some clients asked for my credentials for massage whereupon I’d show them the “certified license” for which I had cleverly paid 300 dollars. As far as legalities were concerned, I was still bitter, and all I could offer the IRS was “my middle finger”. I had no respect for the law, any office, or any human being—including myself. I was on a downward spiral headed for the lowest pits of despair.

Oh yes, the worst you can think of is the despair to which I’m referring. I never prostituted myself, but I won’t lie by telling you that it didn’t cross my mind. No, I don’t condone it but oh I understand it…yes, I absolutely understand how a human being can sink to the pits of drug dealing and prostitution. In a free country, that’s what results of an optimistic human being who once upon a time worked as hard as possible only to learn that the drive was going backwards at full throttle. In a free country that has no leadership, the freedom inevitably converts to license until the unwritten motto becomes “If you aint cheating, you aint trying!”

As I learned about “rich people”, I gradually gained a glimmer of hope. I gave them guidelines on getting into the best shape of their lives with proper fitness consisting of a healthy combination of nutrition and exercise. I began to get-to-know the Private Sector through successful entrepreneurial minds. It seems that most of them play golf. I hadn’t known much about golf nor had I much interest in the game. There seems to be a great detail I had missed! On the golf course, there’s lots of learning taking place “at the [outdoor] office”.

The game of golf is a challenging and relaxing opportunity wherein time is not taken for granted. During the course of the game, they get to learn a lot about one another. While fine-tuning their game, golfers learn quite a lot about the condition of the other’s “game”. Does he cheat? If so, whom does he cheat: opponents, customers, those closest to him—“friends”, parents, siblings, kids, spouse, perhaps partners? What leads him: the passions, the intellect, or the will?

There is much more taking place out there than par for the course by the eye of a tiger’s calm. This is the primetime office whereupon lots of ideas are collaborated, motivations are revealed, integrity is tested, skill is developed, maturity is defined, discipline is measured, and companies merge.

Yes, I learned quite a lot about “rich people”. I found myself easily relating to highly successful human beings; they believe in themselves just as I believe in myself. I have had countless conversations with strong successful men and women entrepreneurs. The most profound lesson I have learned has been the lowest common denominator among the most successful…they were all once poor and have experienced rock bottom on American soil where they learned “the sky is the limit” with the use of their mind, heart, and soul as a guide for their noble ideas.

When I hit rock bottom, it proved to be the strongest pivotal point in my life whereupon I learned volumes! I learned how strong and weak people differ at rock bottom. Human beings either become stronger or weaker from such a stage. Whether they will have believed in themselves, before, during, or after rock bottom, will determine the kind of leaders they are or can become.

The strong human beings believe in you when they see you in a similar situation. These human beings believed in themselves at or after rock bottom; therefore, they celebrate your rock-bottom point because they recognize it as the best position for you to find out “what you’re made of”.

This point is your strongest point, because the survival instincts are met with the “sink or swim” and encouraged by your creative mind. (Your creative mind tends to stagnate with a comfortable salary and therefore unfortunately shelves its use for times like your rock-bottom point.) Moreover, feeling like a loser, you begin to review your beliefs, inform your conscience, strengthen your discipline, and learn how to pray!

If you get back up, you’ll begin to believe in miracles, which brings me to the question: Why am I doing this?

It’s like that line in the movie—The Miracle of the Bells—“It’s because all those poor people, all the people I came from, have hopes and dreams in them that never get a chance. They just work and die and all the nice things inside them never come out. And, I came out of them. They’ll know when they hear me, they’ll know it’s their own heart speaking. When they see my name shining in all the theaters, it’ll be something of theirs shining...”

This little “tour of my life” is included in this book to introduce myself and to convey how challenging obstacles have educated me far more than the degrees earned in the classroom, as I’m willing to revisit the inside of the ole office to subsequently serve as your “quarterback”; but first we’ve got to take a time-out…