Mark McIntosh's Blog, page 25

Pep Talk: "Defining Our Dashes"

We all have had a birth date. We all will have a death date. The question becomes, what happens in between? It’s called defining our dash.
For example, my late father was born in 1931, passed from lung cancer in 2007. For Marvin Walter McIntosh, Jr. it’s 1931-2007. His dash was characterized by an ability to bounce back from adversity and a wonderful personality. People were attracted to my old man.
Thoughts of defining our dash rumbled through my brain as tears rolled down my cheeks recently during a memorial service for Ann Abernethy. An incredibly vibrant and beautiful mother of two succumbed to brain cancer at the tender age of 54.
I was among the mourners jammed into Good Shepherd Catholic Church on Denver’s near-east side. We were saying goodbye to a woman born in 1958, in Casper, Wyoming. Her timeline reads 1958-2013. Her dash was impressive and too short.
When thinking of words to define Abernethy’s dash, many come to mind. Among them, the following: creative, ambitious, caring, funny and optimistic. Upon graduation from high school, the animal lover attended Regis University in Denver, graduating Magna Cum Laude. She was damn good at marketing. 
Abernethy spent 22 years at the Denver Post as Director of Research and Marketing. She also worked at Email Vision as Director of Client Services. When not working, or gardening, Abernethy’s passion was her kids, sons Ian and Devin. Especially the boys’ parochial-school educational experience at Good Shepherd. 
A brief description from the memorial program describes her beautifully: “Ann lived life to the fullest through people, travel, music and good wine. Her sense of adventure and fun-loving spirit touched so many lives. Ann was actively involved in many charitable organizations, including Good Shepherd Catholic School, the Alzheimer’s Association and the Women’s Bean Project, just to name a few. Ann had a passion for animals, gardening and her wonderful friends. She was an amazing mother and her boys were her world.”
A sense of adventure and fun-loving spirit. Two wonderful traits that certainly defined Ann Abernethy’s dash. She touched my life, that’s for sure. Despite the trials and tribulations life brought her way, divorce and illness major ones, Abernethy’s spirit refused to be dampened.
A visit with her in the final days confirmed that. I had been asked to offer a prayer for her at a school function, a celebrity basketball game. I inquired, “What would you like me to share with those gathered?” Bedridden with her body shutting down from the brain cancer, Abernethy managed to muster her incredible smile and joked, “That I get up from here and show up for the game.”
As the service and tears continued, my mind wandered to another dear friend who recently departed: Valerie Vinestock. This dynamic spirit had numbers of 1935-2013. Cancer also won with her. Val was my gym buddy.
We worked out at the same time each morning at Kinetics Fitness Studio, just a few blocks south of the church where a community grieved the loss of Ann. The Kinetics family had gone through a similar experience just a few weeks earlier. At her service, everyone was encouraged to keep Val’s spirit alive with this offer: “To celebrate Val’s life, love and positive force she brought into this world, take a friend to lunch and give them a big hug.”
Val was a rowing and hugging fanatic. I perspire a lot when working out. Most at the gym joke, “My goodness McIntosh, it looks like you just took a shower.” Most take a wide path around me, not Val. She would always, despite this aging jock’s “wringing wet from sweat” condition, respond with a big hug. We’d joke together that her acceptance of me was “unconditional.” 
Love, positive attitude and unconditional acceptance of others. Three great traits that certainly defined Val Vinestock’s dash.
The priests leading the Abernethy service were wrapping things up when my mind wandered to a third fantastic woman who passed recently. Lyndi McCartney. Her numbers were 1943-2013. Her dash, described in a recent Pep Talk, was filled with incredible empathy and passion for others, including complete strangers. The devoted wife, mother and grandma had a great gift of sensing despair and offering hope to counter it.
Three amazing human beings lost. Their dashes defined by all things good.
Our dashes are not complete. There is no certainty to the end date. All we truly control is the here and now. Yesterday is history, tomorrow’s but a mystery. Today is a gift, that’s why it’s call the present.
This week, let’s take advantage of the present. Let’s take cues from Ann, Val and Lyndi. Let’s allow the great qualities defining their dashes, to define ours. We will be better for the effort.

Pep Talk: "Let's Do It!"

Boston Marathon. Sandy Hook. Aurora.
Recent polls suggest Americans have come to accept that terrorism is “part of life.”
Really?
I know from the radio show I co-host weekdays on Mile High Sports Radio, it certainly is a frequent topic of conversation. Even on sports talk shows like Afternoon Drive with Mac and Goodman where we normally chatter about the good, bad and ugly of the local and national sports scene.
Americans, it seems, are frustrated, scared and bewildered. Nobody, or few, likes the direction our nation is headed. However, it seems there’s a sense of helplessness when it comes to achieving our goals and overcoming our challenges.
And the challenges are plentiful. We talk, guilty as charged, much about what needs to be done, but then, for reasons baffling to your correspondent, rarely act on ideas suggested in attempting to resolve what ails us.
Let’s take a peek at the national issues dominating the headlines: Immigration, health care, gun control, national security, fiscal responsibility, economic stability and many others beyond my grasp to remember at the time of this writing.
While driving to work the other day, I was listening to the Irv and Joe Show that airs right before Eric Goodman and I take over from 3-6pm weekdays. Irv Brown is a Denver icon: High school and college coach, Hall of Fame basketball official turned legendary sports talk show host and, most important, a man who cares deeply about others. Two women were on his show talking about an upcoming golf tournament that will raise money to support families who have lost children to cancer. She told a heartbreaking story of economic destitution while trying to keep her child alive in the fight against cancer. She lost that battle and was financially broke from the effort.
Really? Our national health care system has become so jacked up that the cost of saving a child’s life can wipe out a family’s finances forever? We all know that’s crazy to fathom. Unfortunately, we all know it’s also far too common place.
What do do? About health care costs or any other tribulation before us?
We need to quit talking and have the courage to act in making progress to solving the “elephant-in-the-middle-of-the-room” issues staring us in the face. Actions speak louder than words, right?
Fear seems to win the battle with courage these days. “What if it’s not the right solution?” Well, what if it is?
Whenever blessed to present a live Pep Talk, we always talk about, in the face of adversity, the importance of mustering courage to put fear aside and allow wonderment to win in creating productive choices to the challenges we face. The challenges may come from a variety of places - home, work and elsewhere. The venues change, but the strategies, my opinion, in dealing with the challenges rarely do.
I know, it’s real easy to stand before an audience and encourage them to embrace this philosophy. It’s real easy to write about it too. Yes, it’s far more difficult to execute such a game plan. We need a mental resolve that doing nothing is no longer an option.
The challenges might be physical, emotional or financial. They might be local, regional, national or international. Again, the origin is irrelevant. What matters is our reaction. Are we going to learn from experiences life throws our way, or become victims of them?
We talk incessantly about fixing what ails us as a nation, human being, family, wage earner or whatever. Too much damn talking and not enough doing. “What if it’s not right?” Well, what if it is? 
When will courage win the battle with fear? For our nation? For our selves? You don’t want to believe what an aging jock is suggesting? Well then, how about embracing the words of Shakespeare? He once bellowed, “Our doubts are traitors that make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.”
He’s right.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, it is time to quit talking and start doing. If hesitant to act because of uncertainty whether what’s being considered is “the right thing,” try and embrace this simple test. When it comes to acting on ideas to become superior to our former selves, ask yourself three questions. Does the action honor me? Nurture those dependent upon me? Add value to the communities I serve?
If the answers are yes, yes and yes. Go for it!  The plan might not be perfect. It will probably require some tweaking along the way. Underachieving is a part of life. It happens sometimes. Acceptance and long-term dwelling in the underachievement motal is not okay. I write those words as much for me as anybody.
Turning life’s lemons into margaritas requires action. We’ll make some mistakes along the way but we’ll learn from them and get better. Rarely is that a bad thing.
Enough talking, let’s do it!

Pep Talk: "Miracle Factor?"

It doesn’t happen often. However, there are times when something crashes into cranium with great force. The impact induces a pause in the action.
The latest occurrence happened Friday evening while trying to not be a nuisance. I was sitting at home in pajamas. Darling fiancee out of town on company gig. It might have been a tad early, 6:30pm, but body and mind were a tad weary. I was settling down for Rockies baseball. A beer, newspaper and remote at the ready. Mellowed out.
A story in the morning’s Denver Post knocked me back in my chair with greater force than Carlos Gonzalez crushing a fastball over the wall. It spoke to the power of love.
Remember the tragic story a while back? A troubled 23-year-old Denver woman shot her three young children then turned the gun on herself. Terrible. Mom and two of the kids died. Three-year-old Isabella somehow, someway, was spared.
The initial prognosis was not good. Most doctors didn’t believe the middle child in the sibling trio would survive the shotgun wounds to her head. There are exceptions to every rule, right? Here’s proof.
“When everything happened, we heard nothing good,” said grandma Alma Bernal to the Post.  “Sad things like ‘If she makes it.’ If, if, if all the time. The first week I got here from New Mexico I was afraid I’d lose her too.” 
Wow. Can you imagine that family’s sorrow? A mother, six-year-old daughter and two-year-old son are dead. A lone survivor facing long odds for life. Take your pick on how you want to explain what follows. Doctors, nurses and others caring for this warrior told the Post reporter it’s a miracle. 
Shot in the head in early February, a dire initial prognosis and then, less than three months later, Isabella’s released from the hospital. Out of the hospital and heading south to a new start in New Mexico with her father, Grandma Bernal and other family. 
The road ahead is challenging. Isabel, despite the head injuries, can speak, move her arms and sit unassisted. She can’t walk yet but doctors say there’s a good chance that will change down the road. Recovery will take years, physically and emotionally. This young girl seems to have the spirit for the journey.
Here’s what burrowed into the marrow. A comment from a doctor who spent much time with the young girl and her family: “She was a complete delight. A sweetheart of a girl,” said the doctor. “You can really feel the love from her family. I think that so much drives this degree of recovery.”
The love of family, according to the physician, drove this degree of recovery. Some would call that a miracle, a dear friend would call it a fluke and others would offer other explanations. Who cares what you call it.
I think it speaks to the power of love. It speaks to the power of perseverance. It speaks to the power of prayer. It speaks to trying like heck to keep a positive attitude about the crap that comes our way. Always at the worst damn time.
Stuff happens. This we know. Rarely will it be as dramatic as what surrounds Isabella. But it sounds like those around her decided to make the best of it and love on her something fierce and, ya know, “See what happens.” A family in mourning for the madness eliminating three lives, finding the courage and strength to remain strong in its support of this darling angel. 
What about us? No doubt, most have something going on right now. It might be a physical, emotional or financial challenge. How will we react? We will take a cue from Isabella’s family and rise above the fray?
It’s real easy to talk about the correct response. Far more difficult to execute. We’re human. That’s why it’s so darn important to keep rallying with others. We encourage one another to effectively deal with life’s unexpected and unwanted twists and turns. We’re present for one another in the tough times.
Blasts in Boston and central Texas had dominated the news of late. The bad guys in Boston, respectively, dead and captured. In the Lone Star State, cause still unknown why fertilizer plant blew to smithereens. Mellow and somber mood. Then along came a baseball game, cold beer and a story. Each soothing. The latter, to the soul. 
It also brought this truth into an aging jock’s mind: Let’s never underestimate the power of encouraging words for others and ourselves. Who knows, they might be a major factor in a miracle.
What the heck. Try it this week. It just might work.

Pep Talk: "What Could We Learn"

The long flight from Paris, France to Toronto, Ontario, Canada was nearing its conclusion. To pass the time on the almost eight-hour trek, Steven Spielberg’s Lincoln had been watched. A good book, It Happened on the Way to War, had been read. But there was still an hour remaining in the air over the eastern edge of America’s northern neighbor. What to do?
I began to watch a documentary focusing on desperate times in America back in the 1930‘s. The time of the Dust Bowl. For almost six years farmers in the states of Oklahoma, Texas, Kansas and New Mexico fought Mother Nature’s cruel wrath. Too little rain and too much wind. My goodness, talk about perseverance in the face of adversity. Farmers in the effected area went almost six years without producing a crop as moisture evaporated, winds howled and dust accumulated. Weather conditions and ill-advised soil conservation methods resulted in misery and despair for almost 500,000 American families.
Some packed their meager belongings and headed for California’s fertile Central Valley with hope of a better future. Few found relief. Instead many faced discrimination similar to what Blacks faced at the same time in the deep South. “Okies” were not welcomed and often were treated as second-class citizens in the Golden State’s rich agricultural belt.
But most chose to remain on their land. Times were tough. Fiercely independent men and women turned to the federal government. Under president Franklin Delano Roosevelt, policy makers began rewarding farmers embracing new soil conservation practices. Meanwhile, many were threatened with losing their land if they chose to not change tactics, in an area of our nation known, at the time, as “No Man’s Land.”
Almost 80 years ago, Amarillo, Texas was the largest population center of the region. Our nation’s 32nd president made a surprise visit to the city in the Lone Star State’s panhandle. An estimated 200,000 folks, four times the area’s population, turned out to see Roosevelt. In part demanding the federal government take a larger role in saving the livelihoods of so many. Farmers are independent spirits but these were desperate times.
Local newspapers encouraged anyone who was musically inclined to join what was called “The World’s Largest Marching Band” as it welcomed the Democrat with a boisterous rendition of The Eyes of Texas. What happened next has been described as ironic, fortuitous and by some, miraculous. It began to rain. Hard. A deluge. Precious moisture. For the farmers and their families, tears from heaven. Precipitation, better farming techniques and federal aid finally offered hope for the afflicted.
As I sat there and felt the Air Canada jet begin its descent into Toronto, I had an overwhelming sense of admiration for those who endured the suffering. Whenever blessed to encourage others with a live Pep Talk, we always discuss how life rarely goes as planned. Stuff happens leaving us wondering, “What the heck is going on around here?”
The unexpected and unwanted challenges life throws our way come from many sources. It might be Mother Nature, illness, job loss, relationship meltdown or whatever. The team at Victory Productions understands the venues change but encourages others to achieve goals and overcome challenges through embracing a belief the strategies for dealing with the challenges never waver.
Change is constant. What’s unpredictable is where it strikes. Physical? Emotional? Financial? Who knows? The only thing constant in life is change, right? Face it, change is constant. So too, how we face it. Four steps are critical: First, we focus on becoming a student, not victim of the circumstance. Second, we understand we’re not alone. Third, we seek out others in similar situations and fourth, we encourage one another to overcome fear with courage in effectively dealing with whatever ails us - home, work and elsewhere.
This journey, we describe as life, will kick up the storms, we know that. If the winds are howling ferociously, remember the resilience vividly demonstrated in a Dust Bowl documentary about hardship on the Central Plains in the 1930’s. What’s the old saying, “Tough times never last but tough people do?” Believe it.
The airliner glided onto the runway at Toronto’s Pearson Airport. It brought the film to an end. As we taxied toward the gate a simple dude from Missouri thought about the challenges confronting America today and what lessons could be learned from the past. The downtrodden farmers had no control over Mother Nature but learned from the experience, united with one another and committed to better farming techniques, especially when it came to soil conservation. Uniting and encouraging one another also kept something very important alive: hope. Remember the definition of encouragement: “Give hope and confidence to.” 
Challenges. Adversity. Catastrophe. Hope. Confidence. Life. Time marches on but some things remain the same. Stuff happens. The great question always is this: “How will we react?” This week, despite the storms howling and threatening our existence, let’s take a cue from the Okies. Drought and wind almost destroyed their livelihood but nothing could terminate their spirit.  
What could we learn from them?

Pep Talk: "Stock the Pantry"

There’s plenty to savor about Fridays. Especially, at least for this simple dude from Missouri, first Fridays. Yep. The first Friday of each month I have the pleasure of sitting in for an hour on another Mile High Sports radio show. It’s called the Sports Nooner. 
Hosted by Gil Whitely, it airs from 11am-1pm. Gil’s a good buddy of many years. We bust each other’s chops for the first hour of the month’s first Friday. Recent timing had us doing our thing from a sports bar near Coors Field. It was Rockies’ opening day in Lodo. A very interesting place to people watch.
Anyway, after wrapping up the chat with Whitely, I was visiting with some of the Rockies’ fans gathering at the establishment in anticipation of the first pitch between the home town team and its visitors, the San Diego Padres.
In conversing with an engaging women, it’s discovered she’s a teacher. “I knew I was going to be a teacher when I was a kid,” the lady mentioned. “I used to play school and I was in charge.” I listened intently with great admiration. What flowed from my lips afterward is, at least my opinion, a wonderful example of a simple truth: Dreams do come true.
I began to tell this woman about the Good Shepherd Foundation. It was born back in 2000.  A group of parents at a Denver parochial school saw an opportunity and took advantage of it. 14 years later, with the Good Shepherd annual event approaching, this mustard seed has flourished in encouraging the school to achieve goals and overcome challenges.
Like so many things in life, the foundation was born in adversity. “Mark, I love this school SO MUCH.” A tearful grown man muttered those words to your scribe long ago. He was the school’s third-grade teacher. The only male teacher on the staff at the time. My son, now 23 years old, had “Mr. Frank” the preceding year. I cherished a man being part of the educational process for my son. Mr. Frank was a good teacher. He was also leaving. “I’m only making $19,000 a year. I have an offer with a public school that would pay me close to $30,000.”
Shortly after this discussion, I was lucky enough to run into another school parent, a buddy, and shared the news of our school’s loss. It began a dialogue about how to effectively deal with the constant problem plaguing parochial school education. It’s teachers make 37% less than public sector comrades. It shrinks the talent pool.
We knew there must be a way to attract and retain quality teachers. The foundation was born with a mission to “care for our kids’ mentors.” The objective of the non profit was to provide salary bonuses and continuing education assistance to Good Shepherd’s teachers. The concept has worked beyond anyone’s expectations. It has enriched the educational experience for Good Shepherd’s kids, parents, faculty and staff. Dreams do come true.
The woman, splendent in Rockies’ attire, was wide-eyed by the time I finished the story. “Wow. Way cool” she whispered. I countered with, “I hope where you teach middle school you have similar support from parents and others. You have a very important job.”
The lady’s husband walked up. He’s an award-winning high school principal. It was time to head across the street to the ball game. The darling couple departed. They certainly left an impression. A woman and man dedicated to enriching children with wisdom and hope. Highly qualified professionals at encouraging kids to dream.
Later in the day, on our show, The Odd Couple, partner Eric Goodman and I were talking with sports journalism legend Mike Lupica. The New York Daily News columnist and ESPN Sports Reporters contributor was talking, graciously, about his incredible career. The Boston College graduate is the Denver Press Club’s 2013 Damon Runyon Award winner. The author of more than 30 books was on the show to talk about speaking at the event. We also took time to discuss hot sports topics. There were many this day including the Rutgers University fiasco.
“I grew up always wanting to be a sportswriter and live in New York City.” Lupica shared with us. “I am so fortunate that is exactly what has happened. Dreams do come true.”
Yep. If you don’t want to believe me, believe Lupica. Dreams do come true. I know, no guarantees. Where are dreams taking you right now? Do you have any? If yes, yay! If not, why not? Life will kick us around for sure. It’s tough sometimes when we’re in dire straights to think about dreaming. Do it any way. Also, share those dreams with others you trust have your best interests at heart. They can encourage you to persevere when the road ahead looks too challenging to conquer.
We must keep dreaming. We must have a desire to improve. To transform lemons into margaritas. It’s real simple to talk and write about it, far more difficult to execute. Hard work, sacrifice and perseverance are usually must ingredients in the dream-come-true recipe. 
Make sure the pantry is stocked with each this week!

Pep Talk: "Lyndi would Approve"

Billy Joel’s 1973 hit, Captain Jack, plays in the background as the eyes ponder a picture of a wonderful woman who recently departed. It’s the program from Lyndi McCartney’s memorial service. There’s a picture of her on its cover.
Loving and devoted wife, loving and dedicated parent, loving and wonderful grandma and loving and fantastic friend to so many, including the writer of this Pep Talk. Lyndi was celebrated in grand style by children, husband, pastor, rabbi and tons of friends and fans. It was the prayer of the McCartney clan that it truly be a celebration of the 70-year-old’s life. Mission accomplished. Job well done.
The day started at eleven in the morning with the service, an opportunity for admirers to speak of Lyndi’s magical touch and then a celebration feast provided by Pasta Jay’s owner Jay Elowsky. The guy who feeds the Buffs is a long-time McCartney family friend.
Time did not permit me a chance to step before one of the two microphones available. This is what I wanted to share with the gathered, including Lyndi in an open casket before a large flock of admirers.
First off, Lyndi and I did chat occasionally. Usually via email. Her hubby does not have a clue how to work a computer. She did. When passing some information her hubby needed about some Victory projects,  we’d usually catch up a bit about life. I went by to see her in the hospital near the end but she was sleeping. I said a quick prayer outside her door and left quickly. 
The story I wanted to share had nothing to do with us and everything to do with what Lyndi McCartney did for a man she had never met. This man has become a good buddy of mine. We attend a Friday morning gathering of knuckleheads who challenge one another to grow in our faith. At the beginning, once the chop-busting has ceased, we go around the room and share prayer requests. I had asked for prayer around Lyndi and the McCartney family. My buddy Bernie then told a story that knocked my socks off.
“My wife had walked out with the kids,” Bernie admitted about a painful moment long ago. “I was living in Minnesota but wanted to get the heck out of dodge. I moved to Denver.” The man who mentors troubled kids shifted a bit in the chair. “I’m in town maybe two weeks, challenged about life and attending a church service in Autora. I’m leaning against the wall listening to the sermon and wondering what the heck is happening to me?”
Someone else in the crowd that day, somehow, in all the humanity, noticed this man’s torment. “After the service was complete, a woman approached me,” Bernie offered. “She mentioned noticing my despair during the service and wanted to know if everything was okay?”
A basketball junkie when not working in the insurance business or helping kids, the cool Cuban then told the dozen-or-so dudes sitting around the table: “The  woman asked if she could pray for me. I said ‘yes’. It was a beautiful prayer that give me hope when I really needed it.” Bernie blew me out of my chair, closing with,  “That woman was Lyndi McCartney.”
Yep. That’s the story I wanted to share with those gathered to honor a woman who stood for everything good about life. All four children spoke at the service. Each was awesome in praise of her love, support and mentorship. It was mentioned during the humorous, compelling and adoring comments from Mike, Tom, Kristy and Marc, the following: “Mom always showed such mercy and grace toward others.”
Amen to that. Born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma but raised in Santa Monica, California, Lynne Marie McCartney “Lyndi” to most, headed east to attend Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri. Also, just a few miles away, home to the University of Missouri. There was a guy playing on the Tiger football team at the time. A scrappy center and linebacker back in the day of going both ways. This young man came from Detroit, Michigan. The two met somewhere in Columbia. Your scribe attended school there too. There were many opportunities for Mizzou boys and Stephens girls to connect. Popular and pretty Stephens’ gal meets talented and handsome Mizzou athlete in college.
They married young. Made it 50 years before emphysema ended what, despite challenges along the way, became a wonderful love affair. A love affair overflowing in abundance when it comes to faith, family and fun. Many comments centered on the annual McCartney Fourth of July family reunions. Joyful and forever moments born, never to be forgotten.
Lyndi McCartney was exalted big time. If there’s a Hall of Fame in heaven the gifted String A Pearl writer is a first-ballot inductee. Deservedly so. So many thoughts were running through my head as I exited the church in Denver’s northwest suburbs and headed toward downtown. As I began to think about another afternoon of Odd Couple chatter about sports, life and whatever else with partner Eric Goodman on Mile High Sports Radio, one thing would not exit the cranium. Lyndi McCartney always had her reticular activating system on high alert to do good for others. In particular, show mercy and grace.
Admirable? You bet. How about this? This week, let’s honor Lyndi’s spirit and really focus on showing mercy and grace toward others. Who’s in? Can I get a witness? Who knows, maybe it will give somebody hope. I know, no guarantees. Simple, not easy. This much I do know. Lyndi’s concern for Bernie, gave hope when there was, at least at his trying time, little available.
Mercy and grace. It can help others. It can help us. Win. Win. I know Lyndi would approve.

Pep Talk: "Sunshine Before Dawn"

One of the many things cherished about travel, when taking a cab, is the ride to Denver International Airport. Usually the driver hails from a foreign land. Something drew them to America. I love to ask what attracted them, like moth to flame, to the United States of America.
It was before dawn on an early March morning with the projected big storm beginning to sputter to life in the Mile High City. A simple dude from Missouri is on the way to the airport for a flight to Paris, France. The day before, on The Odd Couple, co-host Eric Goodman had been giving - what’s new - yours truly all kinds of grief about heading to France for the first time with little knowledge of the language. The Chicago-native scoffed at my insistence that, “I’ll talk with folks and figure it out.” I was headed to the famous city of romance to hook up with darling girlfriend for a few days of fun. She had been in France on business the week before. We were meeting in Paris.
Anyway, back to the cab. “What is your name?” I queried. “Semere” was the response. “Where are your from?” came next. “Ethiopia” was provided. “Why did you come to America?” What follows is, my opinion, a story demonstrating what is great about this country. Victory Productions also hopes it reminds us of the importance of being united with others when it comes to speaking a common language - verbally, spiritually and socially.
Semere is in his early fifties, a tad younger than the aging jock writing this Pep Talk. This friendly chat escaped his war-torn native land at the age of 22. Rebels fighting the existing Ethiopian government were trying to recruit Semere to join the fray. His family encouraged him to consider something different: Refuge in America.
Semere chose the latter and thanks to a American government program applied and received refugee status. His sponsor was in the Wheaton, Illinois area. There the young man took education classes, learned to speak English and began to assimilate into the community. He committed to the American way. One day he decided to visit other Ethiopian refugees who had settled in the Portland, Oregon area. He loaded up his car and headed west, stopping in Denver along the way. The Centennial State and its beauty left an impression on the young man. He never made it to the Pacific Northwest.
Life would go on and Semere would eventually, for a bit, move to Washington, DC. There he met his bride of almost 20 years. “Was it love at first sight?” his passenger wondered. A fraction of a big smile could be scene from my vantage point in the back seat. “Oh yes” he muttered. “It was.”
The couple moved back to Denver, had a daughter and a son. The daughter is 16 years old and attends a well-respected private school nestled in one of Denver’s tony southern suburbs. Semere’s son attends a Denver public school on its southeast side. Semere’s devoted wife works for the Southland Corporation as a 7-11 convenience store manager. “What is your native tongue?” queries the passenger. “Tikrit.” Do your kids speak that language? “No,” Semere responded firmly. “They speak English. We live in America and understand the importance of speaking a common language.”
Bingo buddy!
I was overwhelmed with admiration for a man who gets it. America gave him hope when there was little. He has not forgotten the favor and realizes the importance of speaking a common language, at least when talking about successfully conducting business. Whether transporting a man on a mission to the airport or educating our kids in the classroom. And is Semere’s world there are expectations to speak a common language, not only verbally, but spiritually. “I have always been taught, and expect of my children, to care for others.”
Amen brother!
We had arrived at our destination. The moisture from the sky was beginning to transform from rain to snow. The storm was rolling in. I was lucky to have gotten out ahead of the expected blizzard. I was even more lucky to have spent 30 minutes in the back of a cab chatting with Semere. Long ago, he put fear and self doubt aside, came to a foreign land with no friends, few language skills but a lot of hope. Through hard work, healthy choices and respect for his fellow man, he’s achieving goals and overcoming challenges. A proud American.
Semere allowed courage and wonderment to win and, his words, “Has a blessed life.”
What about us? Where might it be time to speak a common language, verbally, spiritually, socially with others - home, work and elsewhere? It sure has worked for a delightful man, Semere. Three decades ago, forced to flee war in Africa, comes to America with little, except hope, yet finds success and love. He seems to attract it. This much I do know, Semere sure lit my morning with sunshine before dawn. 

Pep Talk: "Weather Be Damn"

It was the first day back, a Friday, at sports talk radio, on Mile High Sports after returning from overseas. Sometimes there is a question of the day. This was one of those days. I had proposed to darling girlfriend while in weather-plagued Paris earlier in the week. To get in the chase for four lacrosse tickets to a college double-header at Denver University, listeners had to call and share their proposal story.
Scotty from Lakewood was the winner in my book when describing how the lovely Leslie had proposed to HIM!
This simple dude from Missouri has a different tale. It started with a revelation. The highest point in Paris, France is on the north side of town. There’s a butte, the hill of Montmartre, about 129 meters high. Atop this area, back in 1875 construction began on a church, The Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Paris, commonly known as the Sacre-Couer Basilica. It’s an amazing structure. Another church nearby is where, back in the 1500‘s, a bunch of knuckleheads started the Society of Jesus - Jesuits. Newsworthy lately considering the recent pontification of a Jesuit as pope.
Anyway, this architecturally-inspiring place of worship is one of Paris’ most visited spots. At night, from steps in front, the lights of the City of Lights stretch forever. When the weather cooperates. Which it did not while your love-struck correspondent hung in Paris with darling girlfriend. Western Europe in early March is like America’s Midwest. Almost Spring but the weather can be dicey, icy, snowy, rainy, windy and cold. We received plenty of each during our stay.
But there was a mission to accomplish. Proposing. Sacre Couer was chosen after much thought and consultation, primary because it was the highest point in the city. I had never been there and experienced its artwork, history and beauty. What a joyful bonus. It’s built with travertine stone which, because it always exudes calcite, remains beautifully white despite pollution and weathering.
The main focus was, once dropping to one knee, to proclaim: “Darling, we’re standing on the steps of a church in Paris that sits on its highest point. The lights of the city twinkle below. It would be the highest moment of my life if you accepted this ring as a symbol of my life-long promise to love, protect and entertain you till death to us part.”
That was the proposition planned. Mother Nature was messing with it. The weather outside was frightful. Rain mixed with snow, windy and cold. Nobody was standing on the Sacre Couer steps looking down on the lights of the city because you couldn’t see more than 50 feet in front of your face. But I had a ring in my pocket that was burning a hole in the blue jeans.
We were completing a leisurely self-guided tour of the landmark’s majestic interior - took 39 years to build -  and were heading for the exit and those darn steps. What to do? Proceed as planned. Later while telling this story to Billy Mac from Hackensack, he quipped, “Hey sometimes you gotta play in lousy weather.” This was one of those times.
We stepped into the miserable Paris evening. It was about eight o’clock local time. Darling girlfriend’s a tad curious why the self-proclaimed facilities manager has not popped open the umbrella to shield us from the harsh elements. She notices the father of two has dropped to one knee. She queries, “What are you doing?” I tried to maintain composure while reciting words about “highest point and highest moment” in asking for her hand and displaying a sparkling ring. Inclement conditions for sure but weather be damned. She accepted!
In another phone conversation about the moment, while talking with older sister back home, between bursts of laughter she muttered something profound. “Mark, this is symbolic. It’s a wonderful sign you’ll be there for each other to weather the storms that life will no doubt throw your way along the journey of matrimony.”
Amen sister!
We know there will be turbulence. That’s life. The great mystery is, “Where will those darn storms form? Will they appear physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially or wherever - home, work and elsewhere? The great unknown. Stormy weather’s origin.
The folks at Victory Productions know you’re in the same boat. Most likely, there are exceptions to every rule, at some point down the road inclement conditions will appear. Usually at the most inopportune time. That’s when it’s important to remember a few things: we’re not alone, rally with like-minded folks and encourage one another to achieve goals and overcome challenges in effectively dealing with whatever ails.
Forge ahead. Weather be damned.
Have a good week!

Pep Talk: "Plenty of Admirers"

One of the many things I enjoy about co-hosting three hours of sports talk radio each weekday afternoon is this: Listeners to the Odd Couple on Mile High Sports know Eric Goodman and I get to ask each other, guests and callers tons of questions. We received a wonderful compliment the other day from CU head basketball coach Tad Boyle, a frequent guest, who texted, “You guys are real pros.”  I don’t know why, but I’ve always liked to ask questions. Curious.
I got a question for you. If we could be known as someone who inspires, teaches and befriends others, would that be honorable? These days, please tell me I’m crazy, I think they’re some, for whatever reason, who would find fault in being characterized as a person, community and/or business known for inspiring, teaching and befriending. After all, it is a crazy world in which we live, right?
Anybody want a little piece of that action? I can only speak from personal experience but know it has profoundly effected my life. The teachers and mentors along the way, in good times and bad, who keep, and kept, inspiring, teaching and befriending a dude who often has, or had, no clue. Forever cherished for their positive impact.
This takes us back to the radio show. Recently we had Ron Zappolo on for two segments of conversation about sports, life and other stuff. “Zap” is a Denver television legend. The Boston native was sports anchor at KCNC-TV for many years. It was December 1983, while living in Denver and feeling sorry for myself, I watched Zap flawlessly execute a live shot from the Broncos locker after a come-from-behind win John Elway’s rookie year. An epiphany crashed into cranium at that moment: “I wanna do what that guy’s doing. I wanna be a sportscaster like Ron Zappolo.”
It changed my life. I went back to grad school at Mizzou’s great journalism school, the nation’s first and still the nation’s best, and became a sportscaster. Zap inspired me. The previously stated, “someone who inspires....” 
Just a few years after graduating, luck would have it that a young and impressionable “sports guy” would earn employment, thanks Marv Rockford, at KCNC-TV in Denver. Zappolo’s still the main sports anchor. He taught me so many things about the business from top to bottom, including the best way to tie a tie.
Yep. He showed me one night. I’m sure he doesn’t remember, but here goes: While in New Orleans for the station’s Super Bowl coverage the year San Francisco shellacked Denver in the Montana, Rice and crew years, I visited Zap’s room to discuss something about a story and upon walking into his room, the dapper dresser was tying a tie. I was impressed with his style. It has stuck with me to this day. From becoming a better television sportscaster, person and dresser, the die-hard Red Sox fan continues to teach me, and others, including Goodman. He worked with Zap once the legendary broadcaster switched to news and my radio partner was the weekday sports anchor at Denver’s Fox 31. There’s the previously mentioned, “someone who teaches....”
And finally, Zap has become a darn good friend. We’re older, been kicked around a few times, but still trying, as Zap would say, “Do the best we can.” Amen brother. 
Awarded the Silver Circle Award for excellence in Denver television, Zappolo is retiring from television news at the end of March. He’s not sure, at least publicly hasn’t stated, what the next step looks like other than, “I want to get back into sports.” Anybody reading this musing who has ever seen a live Pep Talk presentation knows we always chat at length about having the guts to go for it. Ya know, those moments where you feel the “vibration of the iron string within” and just have to be, as buddy Jerry Gibson would say, “A turtle.” Yep. We gotta stick our necks out. So here goes. I know Goodman’s okay with this, but we’d love to invite Zap to join our afternoon show in a way he thinks might fit. We’d be honored to have the man who mentored us become part of us. Who knows, maybe he’ll say yes!
What we’re first and foremost talking about here is a man, who, over the years has inspired, taught and befriended your correspondent and many others who have crossed his path. Which takes us to the nuts and bolts of it all: Never underestimate the impact, hopefully for good, we can have on someone’s life.
A confused, lonely and downtrodden dude - me - saw Zap perform a live shot and it changed his life. 30 years later, the man continues to influence. Inspire. Teach. Befriend.
I know, simple not easy. What the heck, this week let’s give it a try. I dunno, been called a lot of things in life, smart rarely one, but if Zap’s any indication, focusing on inspiring, teaching and befriending others seems to draw plenty of admirers.
Have a good one!

Pep Talk: "Those Who Cross Our Paths"

This Pep Talk aspires to dispel the notion that motivation comes entirely from within. That’s there’s nothing, other than an individual’s personal will, that can encourage another to dig deep and persevere the challenges times. It’s my belief, and know it’s shared by Victory’s outstanding team of associates, that outside forces are at work too.
A personal example the recent Fight for Air climb in downtown Denver. It was a lousy day outside as Mother Nature abundantly dumping beautiful, and needed, snow on the Mile High City. But the eighth stair climb went on. Those who climb, for those who can’t, undeterred by the foot of snow falling from the sky. Determined to assist Executive Director Curt Huber and his team at the American Lung Association in Colorado’s noble mission of preventing lung disease and promoting lung health. 
Victory loves working with ALAC when it comes to marketing, morale and community connections. It’s certainly important to your correspondent who lost a father to lung cancer, has a darling girlfriend with asthma, many other friends with other lung ailments and, personally, has been blessed with excellent lungs. Like many others who endure the lung-searing climb of 56 floors and 1,098 steps, we believe it’s THE step in making a difference in supporting the organization’s mission.
In other words, it’s important.
Our team leader barked encouragement as we began the trek to the top. He goes by the name of Matt Hammel, head trainer at Kenetics Fitness Studio in Cherry Creek North. He’s an fitness animal, good guy and always has a goofy grin on his face. We get along well. Another team member named Matt quickly separated from the remaining three of us. Hammel had already run in the elite division and finished near the top. The former collegiate wide receiver, turned trainer extraordinaire, then circled back to offer encouragement, drill sergeant style.
The pace was set by the above mentioned dude with the great lungs. A fellow gym animal, Warren, and another Matt - we had three Matt’s on the team - marched dutifully behind. We were united. Our coach there to give us hope and confidence we could finish together and post a winning time. Teams can have an unlimited amount of members but only the top five times count for the team championship.
I was growing weary of setting the pace as we neared a spot about halfway to the top. “Anybody else want to lead?” No response, just heavy breathing. Three steps, three breaths. Three steps, three breaths. Using the handrails inside the Republic Bank building’s stairwell to pull our way to the destination. Legs and arms working in unison. At this point, one very rapid heart rate.
I kept thinking, why? It re-directed my focus from pain to purpose: For a father who left us too early because of lung cancer. For a darling girlfriend who will forever have my love, for a buddy’s wife who is battling lung disease big-time right now. Thoughts of those people were inspiring. I kept climbing for them! A quartet of coach and three knuckleheads continued to march. Quiet except for the sounds of labored breathing and Hammel’s exhortation to “Finish strong!”
By that time, the will to finish strong was not coming from me. It was coming from those who have crossed my path. A great mentor of a father, an incredible woman who is a terrific teammate in the game of life and the devoted wife of a friend. Now, as we neared the finished line, this simple dude from Missouri had shifted to third in the order and had Hammel’s exhortations ringing directly in my ear. Motivation was rising more abundantly within stairwell than snow falling outside it. It was arriving via people who have had a great influence, in a positive manner, on my life.
What about you? Where might there be opportunity to be that type of person for somebody else? Ya know, the type of person having a positive influence on those who cross your path? Where might there be a nice opportunity? Let’s start close to home. Spouse? Family member? How about the workplace? Maybe in a community-based situation as volunteer? The list is endless where we can try and be a positive influence - home, work and elsewhere. But we must act. I know, in this crazy hectic world in which we live, who has the time? Simple, not easy.
Let’s try like heck this week to be a positive influence wherever we roam. If nothing else, we’ll be better for the effort. Without question, when chasing dreams and goals there must be an internal fire for the quest but it sure helps to have others stoking it. Dad, Kathy, Lyndi and Matt helped an aging jock, the eldest team member, contribute to the team’s second place finish. Thank you!
Be that type of person this week for those who cross your path!