Mark McIntosh's Blog, page 13

Pep Talk: "The Spirit We Bring"

We’re getting ready for the football season, the baseball season is winding down and school is starting up. It was not surprising the topic in a recent Friday morning gathering of knuckleheads was understanding the seasons of life. Simple, not easy.
While conversing with half of dozen other dudes determined to grow in faith, words of wisdom were coming from Ecclesiastes. There King Solomon, a grumpy old man toward the end of life, was offering advice about the journey’s uncertainties and this:  “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity.”
While reading the passage about “seasons” this aging jock’s mind wandered to, a few days before, moving precious daughter into a dormitory on the University of Colorado-Boulder campus. This is a new season for the blue-eyed beauty.
Where in the heck have 18 years gone? From the little tyke crawling backward down the house steps toward the basement playroom, to the graceful “Nutcracker” ballerina, to the award-winning volleyball setter, it all seemed to have flown by in a flash. I know many parents can relate.
Kids, they teach us the darndest things and grow up fast.
As your scribe walked toward the dormitory recycling dumpster with unloaded boxes no longer needed, thy mind started focusing on, “Wow, Rachie’s on her own now.” Thankfully, the thoughts were not alarming. For whatever reason, Luther Gulick suddenly jumped into my brain.
The Hawaii native founded Camp Fire Girls more than a century ago. Along with wife Charlotte, the educator surveyed the landscape of the early 20th century and wondered, “What are we doing for the girls?” While young men marched off to summer camp opportunities and leadership grooming, at the time, most young women were expected to learn domestic talents and little else. The Gulick’s thought that silly and wrong.
Through Camp Fire activities girls were encouraged to dream. They were also encourage to “Work hard, make healthy choices and demonstrate love and respect for others.” Work. Health. Love. A terrific trio that, to this day within Camp Fire, is the foundation for the youth development organization’s work. Now coed, Camp Fire USA has a WOHELO award. It goes to outstanding kids who demonstrate the value of WOrk, HEalth and LOve.
The seasons of life. My daughter has begun a new one. May it bring great adventure, continued learning and pleasant experiences. However, this is life and we know it’s a roller coaster. There will probably be bumps along the way. She has heard the “Work hard, make healthy choices and love and respect others” mantra many times from her old man. It’s a blatant plagiarism of Gulick’s wise words muttered more than 100 years ago but, for all of us, as true today as ever. 
Whether we like it or not, there are always new seasons emerging. A time for everything. How about this week allowing WOHELO to be the one-word answer to the spirit we bring to the season despite whatever the season brings to us.

Pep Talk: "Thanks For Waking Me Up!"

Exuberant wife bounced into bed and disturbed my slumber late on a Saturday evening. She had been watching television but was now singing.  The business executive has many talents, carrying a tune ain’t one of them. “Honey, there were a bunch of songs from the 60’s and 70’s that were featured, including Kenny Rogers.”
That comment instantly took cranium to one of Rogers’ greatest hits, “The Gambler.” In the 1978 Grammy-winning hit, the legend croons, “You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold them; know when to walk away and know when to run.” Suddenly I’m wide awake and thinking about the handsome singer’s song and several things happening right now. Most have a constant refrain of fretting over “Knowing when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em.” 
Let’s see: Victory’s A Stronger Cord wellness movement, existing and potential business opportunities, personal relationships and community partnerships. All center around relationships and sure make this aging jock grateful for those that seem effortless. Is it just me or do many require much effort and, seemingly, a constant analysis of best strategies and practices to achieve goals and overcome challenges? Whew, it can get exhausting, especially mentally and emotionally. Brain damage.
Navigating predicaments successfully seems to center on having courage, wisdom, insight and whatever positive trait is necessary to decide between two diametrically opposed feelings: acceptance or frustration. We get frustrated relationships, projects or proposals, despite best intentions from all parties, just don’t click as planned.
Let’s take a look at frustration, defined as: “a feeling of dissatisfaction, often accompanied by anxiety or depression, resulting from unfulfilled needs or unresolved problems.” Not much there warm and fuzzy, right? Now, a peek at the definition of acceptance. It’s a lot shorter and, just this knucklehead’s opinion, simpler: “to regard as true or sound; believe.”
Okay, which is preferred as we mull a variety of “stuff” effecting mind, body and soul concerning people, places or things not following the game plan or script? Do we want a feeling of dissatisfaction, often accompanied by anxiety or depression resulting from unfulfilled needs? Or, shall we embrace whatever challenge lies before us as true or sound and just take that big leap of faith and BELIEVE?
The latter seems shorter, simpler and so much harder because it often requires a shift in our thinking.
Less than 12 hours after beautiful bride rousted me with off-key singing I’m sitting in an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting in support of a loved one. We’re at the well-known point where everybody recites, “God grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Bingo.
Many times this week we’ll probably be faced with a choice: Frustration or acceptance? I’m gonna try like heck to choose the latter. I want to encourage you to try the same.
To darling wife, thanks for waking me up. Literally and figuratively.

Pep Talk: "Pedaling Past Peale's Place"

Reflection was in high gear after a trip to New York City to celebrate daughter’s high school graduation and visit son who works and lives there. A wonderful and memorable trip that included, unexpectedly, pedaling past Peale’s place.
While zipping through Manhattan on a rented bike your scribe slowed dramatically then veered from a designated bike line amid the clogged streets. What to my wandering eyes appeared? The Marble Collegiate Church. Where Norman Vincent Peale, for more than 50 years, preached the power of positive thinking.
I have read Peale’s book of the same title more than once. I’m not alone. Since being published in 1952, according to publisher Simon & Schuster, it has sold more than five million copies. When Peale passed, then President Bill Clinton offered: "The name of Dr. Norman Vincent Peale will forever be associated with the wondrously American values of optimism and service.”
Later, while sitting at the airport awaiting a flight to Denver, my mind kept ruminating on Clinton’s statement, “The wondrously American values of optimism and service.” How can we boost their levels? We need more of each.
For example, considering its size it’s no surprise homelessness is a big issue in our nation’s biggest city. Denver has a homeless problem too. Most big cities do. How can the wondrously American values of optimism and service move the needle in a positive direction? How can we get men and women off streets and into treatment programs effectively dealing with mental health and addiction challenges?
That’s a complicated and multi-faceted issue with no easy answer. This much I do know, Victory’s A Stronger Cord wellness movement is trying through an emphasis on fitness, relationship building and community service. Work out, hang out and help out. Simple but effective steps to boost those wondrously American values of optimism and service Peale preached for more than half a century.
The current headlines are grim. Reading the NY Times suggests researchers have repeatedly found that in the United States, there is now less economic mobility than Canada or much of Europe. Much print focuses on, a year later, Ferguson, Missouri. What have we learned from it? Baltimore? Other examples of strife in the streets?  In 1932, Peale took over a church of 600 members and quickly grew it to more than 5,000 congregants preaching optimism and good works. ASC’s employing a similar strategy through encouraging a commitment to better fitness, relationships and communities. It starts with the workout.
Peale was not without critics. Many from the mental health community blasted the best-selling Power of Positive Thinking. However, the Ohio-born preacher will be forever remembered as an optimist who believed that, whatever obstacles life delivered, we could prevail by approaching the journey with a simple sense of faith.

Pedaling past Peale’s place was a reminder: Let’s have faith we can make a difference by wondrously exhibiting optimism and service toward others. And don’t be afraid to venture outside the lines. When it comes to social issues, America needs some out of the box pedaling.

Pep Talk: "Another Fruitful Branch"

Darling wife was out keeping the economy rolling, Aaron Neville's singing love songs making me think adoringly of her, Victory's A Stronger Cord wellness movement had a great Saturday workout, hang out and help out serving a child care center, and now this knucklehead is hunkered down in the basement on a hot and dry Mile High City Saturday and I'm thinking. Which can be dangerous.
Thoughts drift back to the day before. During the Friday morning Platoon gathering a bunch of jacked up dudes were challenging one another to grow stronger in faith. It's a cherished weekly time in my life. One of the boys is talking about suffering and perseverance and blurts something jarring the cranium a tad: "It's through the turmoil of life that we get pruned. It's our job to make sure the pruning leads to a new branch."
That thought burrowed into my marrow. Tough times. Unfortunate stuff. Often tragic and always unwanted. We get pruned all the time, right? How do we make sure that pruning leads to a new branch? I don't know. I just know examples.
For instance, an adult daughter of another man in the room. She was severely injured a few years ago, has had to relearn just about everything in life, but is now encouraging kids in an Arizona child care center. "It's perfect for her" offered a grateful dad. His daughter is amazing. She got pruned big time, but a new and fruitful branch has appeared.
Or, the woman who leads an entire zone for a large staffing company. Your scribe was honored to offer a little encouragement to the talented women and men under her leadership recently at a team gathering. This incredible mom, wife and business executive had some serious medical challenges a while back and just whipped them. During remarks it was cool to lead her team in saluting her. She got pruned big time, too, but has brought forth a new and fruitful branch with excellent mentoring of a staffing team thriving under her direction.
How about a nephew who just did something crazy? Jumped into a canoe and rowed, floated and whatever else was necessary to traverse 340 miles on the Missouri River between Kansas City and St. Charles. The race is called the Missouri American Water MR340. A challenge for sure. It's a nice milestone for a delightful young man who really seems to be hitting his stride. Trust me, he's been pruned. The strapping and smart 29-year-old has sprung a new branch. It looks promising for bearing wonderful fruit.
Getting pruned a bit right now? Beloved billiards' buddy is in rehabilitation, doing well and starting to come out of an isolated shell. From reports, he's smiling often and joking around with others. Engaging. After more than 30 years of abusing his body and mind with drugs, alcohol and negative thinking, the nature lover is sober, being pruned and displaying signs of a new branch budding. What a blessing.
Being pruned? Physically, emotionally or financially? Let's make a vow when it happens we'll try like heck to trust it will birth another fruitful branch!

Pep Talk: "Don't Forget To Close The Gate!"

A devoted family member was the last to see beloved billiards’ buddy before he walked through doors to a month-long rehabilitation program. The 51-year-old’s parting thought was chilling. “You’ve finally been able to flush the family turd down the toilet.”
That untruthful statement speaks powerfully to the impact thoughts about self rule our lives. Beloved billiards’ buddy had been sober for 11 days, had not had anxiety attacks and had begun to eat more nutritiously. All positive steps. However, for anybody trying to break free from addiction or other debilitating challenges, too often resigned to a back seat in nurturing a negative image of oneself.
We know it’s true. If we constantly berate ourselves transformation is difficult, if not impossible. It’s a fundamental question always asked during live Pep Talk presentations: “Victims of the circumstances or students of the experiences?” Our choice, choose wisely.
Three things stand out in this, so far, three-week journey with beloved billiards’ buddy. It started with a visit to the Mile High City, realization of how serious the addiction issues were, a return to his Midwestern hometown, detox and now rehabilitation.
First, kudos to the dedicated doctors, nurses and social workers dealing with the mentally ill and addicted on a daily basis. This is not an easy job. Patience, empathy, tough love and encouragement are necessary ingredients to serve in an environment where the afflicted struggle mightily emotionally and physically.
Second, our nation’s HIPPA laws can be a barrier to care. Beloved billiards’ buddy was initially checked into a short-term detox center. Withdrawing from years of alcohol, methadone and Xanax abuse had the expected result: seizures. One seizure led to a fall, transport to a hospital for stitches above the eye and then subsequent transfer to a second hospital for recovery. Because of HIPPA regulations, concerned family and friends, your scribe included, could not find beloved billiards’ buddy for almost three days. Also, important meetings concerning future care were conducted without a loved one of sound mind present. There has to be a better way.
Third, in contacting recovery programs in the major metropolitan area where beloved billiards’ buddy resides, it became apparent there is room for expansion of Victory’s A Stronger Cord wellness movement. No programs offer the fitness, relationship building and community service trio ASC provides to those fighting addiction. Opportunity is knocking for ASC to serve beyond the Mile High City.
I had stepped away briefly into the muggy Midwestern noontime heat when beloved billiards’ buddy delivered, to a sibling, the “flush” final thoughts. Upon learning of the comment, it took me to something previously read about the Culver MIlitary Academy in Indiana. During graduation ceremonies its cadets shake hands with the headmaster and then walk through an arch with a gate. It’s symbolic for walking toward their future but it’s about the past too. The headmaster always shouts, “Don’t forget to close the gate.”
It’s a lesson for beloved billiards’ buddy and each of us. Past experiences? We have to let ‘em go. We gotta close the gate!

Pep Talk: "The Necessary Additive"

A friend of mine, Billy Mac from Hackensack, loves to suggest, “The greatest form of motivation is encouragement.” The definition of the word has always fascinated me. Encouragement. Defined as, “To give hope and confidence to.”
That has been the point of a daily phone call to the Midwest, to beloved billiards’ buddy. Last week’s Pep Talk was dedicated to him and the hope that he, and all of us, would limit the space in our lives reserved for self-limiting beliefs.
But I can’t speak to the 51-year-old directly. It’s through friendly operators at the respected detox center where he currently resides. They take messages and pass them along. The nature and wilderness-loving dude could call if he desires. So far, understandable considering he’s in the belly of the beast called withdrawal, there’s been no conversations.
Doesn’t matter. What does matter is beloved billiards’ buddy had the courage to step away from alcohol, methadone and Xanax addiction and enter rehab. Self-limiting beliefs that have shackled and limited life’s possibilities, at least temporarily, cast aside.
“Coming off Methadone, alcohol and Xanax at the same time?” wondered a seasoned chaplain at the Denver Rescue Mission with extensive experience in this field. “That might be the toughest to whip.”
Many of the guys Victory’s A Stronger Cord wellness movement works with on a daily basis in the Mission’s New Life Program get wide-eyed when hearing about the journey beloved billiards’ buddy is currently on. They’ve been there. It ain’t pretty.
Ever been there? Of course you have. We all have memories of when family, friend or self courageously placed thy face in the fan of adversity and leaped into the great unknown called the future. At that point we can only encourage. We can give hope and confidence to those cherished but mired in the muck of addiction to self-limiting belief.
Recently a friend told a story about auto racing. The story of the 24 Hours of Le Mans. It’s an annual race in France. What was fascinating were two important rules: “There are no pitstops allowed in the first hour of the race,” offered the race enthusiast. “The thinking is, if there’s something wrong with your car that soon it’s not deserved of being in the race.” He continued, “And, after the first hour, with every pitstop, the driver must turn the ignition off.”
Organizers of the prestigious Formula One race, now in it’s 83rd year, want car and driver under the greatest duress possible. Only the strong survive. It’s where beloved billiards’ buddy finds himself right now, under great duress. We don’t have to look too far in America today to find similar stressful situations from addiction, illness, job loss, divorce, poverty, gangs, homelessness or other social ills plaguing our country.
What to do? 
This week pour encouragement into someone’s emotional fuel tank. Who knows, it might be the necessary additive offering them hope and confidence to keep pressing the ignition switch and finish the race under a checkered flag despite current conditions.

Pep Talk: "Fight It Off!"

“I have a problem with self-limiting beliefs” admitted a good buddy at our Friday morning men’s fellowship where we challenge one another to grow stronger in faith. “I’m trying to work on that a lot these days.”
After muttering, “Amen”, rather loudly, a thought came crashing into cranium. “He ain’t alone.”  Most of us can certainly relate. We have moments in life when self-limiting beliefs are tougher to break than, despite recent good play, the Rockies streak of lousy baseball. Sorry, couldn’t resist.
At the top of this list? A simple dude from Missouri who writes these weekly Pep Talks. We fight the good fight between self-limiting and courage. Ya know, the ability to, as I like to emphasize in live presentations, “Put fear and self-doubt aside and allow wonderment to win.”
I think of beloved billiards buddy. The 51-year-old visited this past week from the Midwest. Times have not been easy for this interesting dude. Self-limiting beliefs are abundant. So too, addictions: beer, methadone, Xanax, poor diet and feeling sorry for self. Playing the victim card often. Yikes. 
We had an interesting week. Tons of fun and lots of serious discussions. A real highlight? Tuesday. Denver folks who watch television news  probably heard the story of 86-year-old Dottie Moore. The personable woman with dementia wandered away - so we thought - from a Denver-area assisted living facility. Dottie is the mother of a cherished woman. A “sista from another mista.” 
Beloved billiards buddy, currently thrashing away in the deep end of despair, happens to be  a nature lover. Loves to take walks in the woods near his Midwest home. Suddenly, beloved billiards buddy, despite having drank probably six beers by 10am, came to life like a champ when informed we were joining the search for Dottie - we found her safe! -and would need to tramp around nearby woods. A spark came to his face. For a moment, beloved billiards buddy rose above the storm raging within. Can you relate? Know somebody?
There were many other joy-centered times too. A smile would crease his face and happiness would pierce his soul. Beloved billiards buddy tells funny jokes. My favorite can’t be repeated in this space. Trust me, it’s good. The billiard sharp-shooter’s good lunch company. During our visit, he met many of your scribe’s friends in the addiction recovery world. Dudes with similar stories.
When the youngest of three incredible siblings, after a long train ride, first landed in the Mile High, a high priority was playing pool. Two knuckleheads. We love to shoot pool together. He’s a good stick. Sometimes I can hold my own.
It’s a bond we share. I hope we can begin to share other bonds too. Like a bond to encourage one another to try like heck to keep the percentage of self-limiting belief to a minimum.
For each of us, it’s our biggest enemy wherever roaming. Home, work and community. This week? Fight it off!

Pep Talk: "What Needs To Be Done"

Dawn had broken, but little light was available in Vail, Colorado. Birds began their early-morning chirp, seemingly encouraging the sun to keep climbing and appear above the massive and picturesque Gore Range just to the east. Delivery trucks stirred noise and fumes as cherished family and friends slept after a festive night celebrating our nation’s 239th birthday. 
The cranium kept going back to one thing. A statue. A symbol of America at its best. A sentry watching the town’s famous “Covered Bridge.” But also, symbolically watching us, current residents and stewards of the American way. It’s a statue honoring those who served our country in the 10th Mountain Division during World War II. 
For this simple dude, the ten-foot tall soldier, with skis over right shoulder and weapon strapped to upper back, powerfully moves the Missouri marrow. The soldier’s determined look and purposeful march are constant reminders to a comment read recently in the Denver Post. From a veteran still alive – there aren’t many left - from that terrible war: “We just had to do what needed to be done.”
Amen to that, buddy.
Fascination with the 10th began more than 20 years ago. A neighbor had been a member. “Pajama John”, known to water his lawn while still in sleepwear, would speak in reverent tones of service and sacrifice on skis.
The 10th Mountain was inspired by what happened to Soviet troops in November 1939. They were defeated by Finnish troops on skis protecting their homeland. The incident caught global attention and the heart of Charles Minot Dole, founder of the American national ski patrol. He pestered the War Department - now Department of Defense - to form a similar unit in the US Army. We needed troops, like Finland’s, who were experts in fighting during winter and in mountainous terrain. The 10th Mountain Division was born. Dole, who recruited expert skiers to the unit, had a spirit resonating: “I just had to do what needed to be done.”
Another member of the 10th, Pete Seibert, is known as the founder of Vail. The Massachusetts native trained at the Army’s Camp Hale, near the yet-to-be-formed Colorado town. The expert skier served in the division which helped defeat Nazi Germany and, after the conflict, returned to the area and led the charge to create the ski resort he had envisioned. Seibert oozed a “Do what needs to be done” spirit. 
What about us?
Maybe it has to do with family, work or community? It’s what Victory’s A Stronger Cord wellness project envisions. Sure, it starts with a workout, but it’s about better fitness, relationships and communities. ASC’s Knuckleheads are just trying to do what needs to be done in a nation hampered by too many isolated, unfit and stressed folks.
As Americans, let’s never allow our World War II veteran’s spirit of courage, ingenuity and commitment to fade. We owe them that much. Look around, take action and just do what needs to be done.
Let their spirit be your guide. Good luck!

Pep Talk: "Find Your Niche And March!"

As the assembly of peaceful and prayerful humanity snaked through northeast Denver, my simple mind wandered to an earlier moment that spoke to the power of unity.
The cranium-crashing moment was from a few days before. The tenth "Buffs 4 Life" golf tournament. As a sportscaster, I covered University of Colorado athletics for almost 20 years. There are many cherished memories of hosting coaches' television shows, traveling on the team plane and developing relationships that will last until this aging jock croaks.
Especially from the Buffs' football program. It has certainly fallen on challenging times, but for a stretch, especially from 1988 through 2001, CU was a national power. The players, coaches and staff from that era have remained valued friends.  Events like a golf tournament bring us together and ooze with the truth of what's possible when personal egos and agendas are set aside and everybody rallies behind a common cause. In the case of Buffs 4 Life, that's caring for members of the Buffs' athletic family who have experienced adversity.
Devoted to a cause beyond ourselves. That thought pulsed through my veins as 225 people of all colors, addresses and beliefs strolled through northeast Denver for the first of five prayer walks encouraging a lessening of gun violence that plagues our city and nation.
Back in 1989, the Colorado Buffaloes' football team powerfully demonstrated the power of unity. Inspired by the tragic cancer-induced death of starting quarterback Sal Aunese, a talented, but young, squad of Buffs had a magical season. Under the direction of Hall of Fame coach Bill McCartney, CU won every regular season game, rose to number one in the polls before losing, in disappointing fashion, the national championship battle to Notre Dame in the Orange Bowl.
"One Heart Beat" was the team's motto. It produced fantastic results. As I ran ahead of the crowd walking through Park Hill in an effort to get a picture capturing the moment, the hopes of a simple dude from Missouri were that we can replicate a similar spirit in stopping the senseless gun violence.
It will not be easy. We have to give kids alternatives to gangs and their violent tendencies. It's one goal of Victory's A Stronger Cord wellness movement. We're trying to build dynamic sports programs in gang-infested parts of Denver. Kids need another team to play for. We need coaches. These kids need positive male and female role models. You?
Sports and fitness, in addition to being excellent stress reducers, are wonderful connectors and equalizers. Folks, this ain't rocket science, but it takes a united effort. Whether we're talking about becoming superior to our former selves in reducing gun violence, providing quality education, running a successful business or whatever, unity and a common sense of purpose are critical to prevail against what ails.
One heart beat. Yoked. Willing to charge from the foxhole together. Call it what you want. Look around this week to see where your time, talents and treasures can help.
Find your niche and march!

Pep Talk: "Those Who Called You, Grandpa"

“I love Sundays,” offered the handsome and lanky college kid. “I play golf with my dad.” This heartwarming statement came from my nephew about his father, my brother.
It came on a warm Missouri day during a golf tournament to raise money for youth sports in Raytown, Missouri. Long ago, when your scribe grew up there, youth sports were vibrant. A community super glue. Like everything, things have changed and a dedicated group is trying to transform youth sports’ participation in the Kansas City suburb. We all know from experience, it’s good for kids and community. Through Victory’s fledging Another Team project we’re trying to accomplish the same thing in gang-influenced parts of Denver.
Anyway, on Father’s Day 2015, while flying back to the Mile High City from Kansas City and a fabulous weekend that included the golf outing, mom’s 80th birthday celebration and other cool stuff, cranium kept wandering to nephew Nick’s “I love playing golf with my Dad” comment.
History was repeating itself. This young man’s father, younger brother Matt, had a similar history with our father, the late Marvin “Mac” McIntosh. After our parent’s divorce, the youngest of four kids, now a successful Minnesota-based businessman, husband and father, began playing lots of golf with the McIntosh clan’s patriarch. 
The three older kids, this knucklehead included, were away at college or beyond. A bond between father and son was forged over forged irons, metallic woods and fond memories. A love affair that now involves a third generation of that limb of the family  tree. 
Being the ever-growing sentimentalist, tears of joy moistened thy face as we cruised down the fairway in pursuit of tee shots. Also in our foursome, the before-mentioned brother and Uncle Al, dad’s brother. A wonderful man, now 81-years-old and the only surviving sibling of my father’s generation.
Heart yearned for another round of golf with, as buddy’s called him, “Hacker Mac.”  We had much fun at the course. Heart swelled with pride knowing younger brother and his son were keeping the McIntosh golfing spirit alive. I get to play with them. Yay me. 
The memories aren’t about unbelievable shots or lucky bounces, but of time together. Dad would open up on the golf course, or in the clubhouse bar afterward. Share the struggles and joys of a guy, oldest boy in a brood of six kids, forced to grow up fast, become a man and face life with an amazing spirit of turning lemons, the heck with lemonade, into sweet and savory margaritas.
My old man was respected. Adored. My younger brother is a chip off the ol’ block. Those traits are filtering to Matt’s two sons. As the father of two amazing kids, I feel a genetic pull to keep Hacker Mac’s spirit alive too. It’s touching the next generation. Now it gets personal, Dad, those who called you “Grandpa.”
Perseverance. Optimism. Character. You embodied them and many other admirable traits. You’re gone but will forever, especially from golf carts rolling down fairways, be remembered. Pops, thanks for showing the way.