Wisdom Is Where You Find It

If you open your eyes, you can learn something just about anywhere. 

For example: A bus stop.

Or, in this case, two bus stops a couple hundred yards around the corner from each other.

I was driving down Thomas Road in Phoenix and passed the first bus stop.  The sign behind it said, “Some people are smarter than you.  Listen to them.” 

“Sage advice from a beer advertisement,” I mused, as I drove on down the road.

Then, as I turned the corner at 32^nd Street, I spied a second bus stop sign, also selling beer:

“The bulk of your life should be off the record,” this one touted.

More wise advice.  Beer advertisements have sure come up in the world in the past 20 years.  No Clydesdales playing football, no bikini clad women in the snow, and no vapid arguments over whether a beer tastes great or is less filling.  All things we can certainly do without.  Well, maybe not the bikini clad snow girls.  Definitely not without them.  Why would anyone drink beer if it weren't for the bikini clad snow girls.  But, I digress.

In this age of Googled answers and Facebook friends, when Snopes can’t keep track of the balderdash and Twitter can’t keep Weiners off the air; it’s refreshing to get some good old-fashioned wisdom from your friendly neighborhood brewery. 

There are people who are smarter than you.  Seek them out and listen to them.  Chances are they don’t live in Hollywood or Washington D.C.  Look for them in your neighborhood.  Most of them are over 70 and have lived long enough to learn a few hard lessons.  Get to know them.  Spend some time.  Learn from them.

And while you are at it, how about keeping most of your life off the record.  I still have to learn this one myself, but let me put it out there.  You don’t need to blather every inane thing in your day on Facebook.  No one cares.  They are too busy broadcasting their own frivolities.

Maybe it’s time to turn off the computer, tune in to the real people around us and drop out of the online world.

 Just for a while…

Wisdom is where you find it.

Not a Spectator Sport

“Drumming is not a spectator sport, it’s something you participate in,” he said as he handed me two mallets and pointed me to a set of steel drums, "People don’t participate in music anymore, they listen to it on iPods, they go to concerts, and they watch Dancing with the Stars or American Idol. We've lost that participation in society."

I recently reconnected with someone I had played drums with in High School. I loved music and loved playing. But, during my senior year, I got ticked off at the band director and cussed at him before walking out of the room. Youthful hot-headedness leads to adult regrets. Sadly, I haven't played music since.

Facebook, through its magic, led me to find Wes again. He had been an amazingly talented drummer when he showed up his Freshman year. He went on to become a music teacher in local high schools and community colleges and now teaches private drum instruction. When I found him on Facebook, we agreed to meet over coffee, just to catch up. Over coffee, he told me group of people he meets with to play steel drums for fun. I asked if I could come watch, and he said, “Yes.”

And that’s how I found myself standing there being shown how to play steel drums, one of the few percussion instruments that I never got to play in school. He also put me on drum set and congas, neither of which I had played in 20 years. I didn’t do very well, but I had an amazing time. The music was pretty simple and the rest of the group was nice (and patient with my mistakes). What a blast!

His comment to me as I came in the room, though, got me to thinking. Music isn’t a spectator sport and neither is life. So many people spend their whole lives seeking to be entertained without actually joining in and participating. How many hours are wasted watching T.V. shows, listening to music, playing video games, going to concerts, and attending sporting events?

Why let a dozen guys on the field or court get all the exercise? Pick up a ball, find a friend and go play.

Why watch a band play music on stage? Take some friends and go to karaoke or a drum circle, or just sing some songs around a camp fire.

How much better would our society and our own lives be if we turned off the T.V., music, and video games; and, instead of going to concerts and sporting events, actually began getting involved and doing those things we used to watch.

Living is not a spectator sport, it’s something you participate in.

Thanks for the wisdom, Wes.

Stumbling Through Nostalgia

In the past several months, through the magic of Facebook, I have been stumbling through nostalgia. I have reconnected with some old friends and acquaintances from my grade school and junior high school years. I don’t know about most people, but I’d honestly rather forget most of what happened during those years. In fact, I’d rather have my fingernails pulled out without anesthesia rather than face some of those memories (for the record, I have recently experienced having part of my fingernail pulled out – it hurts).

However, having stumbled on to an old friend on Facebook, I began to encounter others. Some found me and wanted to be friends and I found others, including those whom I don’t want to be friends with. I wandered around a few fan sites for my old schools, checking out other people who were in my classes as well as pictures from the schools. I even went so far as to pull out an old year book to compare pictures. My friend looked pretty much like an older version of himself then. He hadn’t changed much. I found a girl that I had a huge crush on in eighth grade. She’s not so pretty anymore. I found out that one of the bullies that I had to deal with died violently a few years ago. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Memory is a funny thing. As I looked at old pictures and tried to remember things, I realized how skewed my memories had become over the years. Things that I thought I clearly remembered were actually different. Faces were different than they were in my head. Places in the school looked completely wrong. Even the map that I have in my head of my hometown doesn’t reflect reality. Many of these memories had a surreal feeling to them as I explored the reality. It was as if I was viewing them through a filter, like an old movie reel.

I don’t know what bearing this has on the world, but for me, there are many memories that I don’t really want to be crystal clear in my mind. I’d rather not remember too clearly those years of puberty. I really don’t want to have the pain of loss from a loved one stay razor sharp for the rest of my life. The fear I remembered watching my wife in childbirth and heading off for c-section is something I don’t want to be fresh in my mind on a daily basis.

I’m not sure why our memories fade so,

but it is probably a gift.