Mark Cuban is the controversial owner of the Dallas Mavericks NBA basketball team (along with a bunch of other stuff including a chain of movie theaters and cable TV networks). Some people love him. A lot of people don't. I'm pretty sure he doesn't care one way or the other.
My wife and I play a lot of cribbage. Sometimes I win. Sometimes she wins. Sometimes it's a close game right up to the end. Other times it's a blowout. Sometimes when she's way ahead, she'll ask me if I want to concede and start a new game. Never. Being way behind is a different kind of challenge. Sure the odds are against my comeback, but you never know unless you try. It becomes a different way of playing the same game we've played thousands of times. The only thing I know for sure is that if I quit, I will not win. Every now and then I do come back to win. Most of the time I don't.
If today were my last day on earth, I think I would go without any real regrets. That feels pretty good. Now don't get me wrong, I am very much opposed to going today, but I am certain that we have almost no say in the matter. It's comforting to think we do, but we don't. Sure, we can be careful, and avoid dangerous situations; but the truth is, we don't get to chose how we die; we chose how we live.
I subscribe to DirecTV. I'm not sure what channel it's on, but early every morning there's a program on called Sunrise Earth. It's nothing more than a camera sitting out in a beautiful location capturing the sunrise. Birds chirping, animals scurrying about, and light music playing in the background. I love it. It is an amazing, relaxing, beautiful way to start the day.
I saw a post on Twitter the other day that encouraged us to be nicer than we feel we need to be with people we come across, because they likely have more going on in their world than we are aware of. That's not only a pleasant idea, but it's probably very true.
At our office, we have about 25 full-time employees. And no professional cleaning service. We (in theory) just try to take care of it ourselves. We do a pretty good job of looking after our own immediate areas; dusting, vacuuming, taking out the trash. It actually works pretty well. Thank God the restrooms are serviced by the building management.
In the movie Up In The Air, George Clooney's character says, "Cameras are for people with bad memories." I kind of agree. I don't take a lot of pictures. For the most part I like to enjoy the event and move on. Although to be honest, I would probably take more pictures if I ever remembered to take my camera with me. That's another kind of memory issue.
Around the office here, we have developed a fairly deep hatred for the word fine. If I ask you how something is, and you respond, "It's fine," I am going to conclude that you're also saying that it's not great. Fine is fine, and great is great. There's no confusing the two. If we're satisfied with fine, we are likely not pursuing great. And that's not a place I like to be.
We did a lot of camping as a family when I was a kid. We packed up our van (mom and dad did all the work, but I still like to say we), and the five of us piled in for more hours in a vehicle than any family should ever spend together. Our itinerary usually took us west. Yellowstone, Canada, Tetons, Mount Rainer, Badlands, Grand Canyon, Glacier, Mount Rushmore, Wall Drug, Reptile Gardens, Bear Country USA. You get the idea.
Quick. Close your eyes and name the first five people that come to mind that you think have a great attitude. (Mary, James, Hanna, Meg, and Mike.) Ok, good.
A few years ago I had the opportunity to attend the Indianapolis 500. You have to see it to believe it. I recommend putting it on your list of things to try and sneak in once before you die. It has nothing to do with being a racing fan. The sights, sounds, smells, and more than 300,000 fans. It is bigger than life. It's always scheduled for the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, so the 2010 version is only a few weeks away. They Daytona 500 is next on my list.
So one May Day in elementary school (a long, long time ago) my classmates and I spent the day with our teacher making May baskets for our moms. We cut and pasted, and decorated, and drew, and colored. We filled them with candy, and pictures, and flowers. They were third-grade masterpieces.
