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Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday, September 4, 2000 Volume II Number 36
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Special Announcement:
This is the fifty-third installment of LeaderFOCUS. It is the first issue of year number two. To celebrate the completion of LF's first full year, you will find a new page: What People Are Saying. Check it out.
FOCUS - Reflections on a Milestone
A mile is a curious thing.
Left brained purists have introduced the whole metric system to us, and for a fact, the math is a whole lot easier. It’s based on a system of tens. The meter. The centimeter. The millimeter. Much less complicated than the foot. The yard. The mile. The acre.
Who came up with the concept of a mile? The same people who decided that a foot is comprised of twelve inches. Inches? I suppose it’s the distance between the two knuckles of your pointer finger. And twelve of those would be the size of the average foot? Three of those then are a yard? What an odd way to measure. And the mile? Why five thousand two hundred and eighty of those feet? Why not five thousand… even (as in 5,000)? Wouldn’t that have been simpler?
The “milestone” was a marker set alongside the road. As you passed it, you would tick off one more mile in your journey: one mile further down the road and one more mile closer to your destination. It eliminated the need to count your steps, which would not have been a very accurate way to measure your progress anyway, and would have been terribly boring and would have prevented you from enjoying the scenery or chatting with your travel-mate or if you were alone, would have distracted you from using your imagination to plan or reflect or to sing out loud or otherwise enjoy the open air.
As you pass a milestone, there is generally a sense of celebration. A feeling of accomplishment. If you are in a group, there will be a high five all around as you walk on by. We made it. One more mile behind us. One less mile to go before we arrive.
Today we borrow the concept, milestone, and use it to describe that moment when a goal is accomplished. Or when in our life’s journey we pass through one of those watershed moments that will forever affect the remainder of our life, we call it a milestone. Like a birth. Or a death. Or a marriage. Or a promotion. Or a resignation. Or an appointment. Or a graduation. Or a goal reached. We call it a milestone.
This issue of LeaderFOCUS is a milestone for me.
* * * * * *
To some it will seem an exaggerated use of the term.
To place the writing of this issue of my little cyber-memo on the level some of those other milestones I’ve just listed is, well, inflating the significance of the moment just a tad. But it feels like a milestone to me. And I’d like to high five someone… how about you? Give me five. Thanks.
I want to imagine you and me sitting in the living room with fresh hot coffee talkin’ for a few minutes.
You see, last week, as I uploaded the LeaderFOCUS entitled “Grand Avenue,” I posted issue number fifty-two. That means that every week for one year I passed that self-imposed deadline Sunday night of posting a new and original LeaderFOCUS… and didn’t miss a week. There are fifty-two issues now in the archives.
So I must ask you to indulge me this morning. I want to make this issue, well, a reflection on LeaderFOCUS. A reflection on a milestone.
* * * * * *
When I handed in that paper in the sixth grade, Mrs. Wilson smiled. The next day, she read the story to the class.
Then she said, “This is an interesting story. An original story. Kenny has a vivid imagination. His story has a good point. I think Kenny is a natural born storyteller. Someday he’ll be a writer.”
And then she asked me if I would read it at the school-wide Christmas program. All the parents would be there, too.
I shrugged and said, “OK.” I still remember the terror as I stood before the crowd reading from the lined white three hole punched notebook paper. And I remember the applause, too.
* * * * * *
That summer, we moved from Illinois to California. Sunshine and football and afternoon television and the trombone and my Schwinn Bike took the place of writing and reading books and telling stories. Writing was a chore. And a bore.
And later when that college English teacher ripped my research paper to shreds – stroking big red lines through my phrases and exclamation marks in the margin emphasizing the errors in my grammar and punctuation and my run-on sentences and his utter disbelief that a person of my diminished intellectual capacity had been admitted to his university – well, that experience pretty well snuffed out the lofty predictions of Mrs. Wilson in the sixth grade.
* * * * * *
In my twenties, I discovered books.
I found that words on a page could have enormous power. I discovered that some writers (certainly not all) could craft sentences and paragraphs that would completely capture my imagination. For pages at a time I would lose track of the clock and find myself lost in the story. I discovered the richness and subtleties of the English language, and found rhythm and rhyme and cadence in the sentences. Writers could be poets and musicians and painters and psychologists and historians and philosophers all with words.
I quickly learned that I engage much more readily with story than abstract narrative. Lists of “how to” put me to sleep. I decided early on that novelists were far more intelligent than my professors, simply because they were intelligible. They put ideas in the context of real life. In the novel, the lectures and the dialogue came out of the mouths of flesh and blood characters, in the context of history and culture. There is purpose and energy and direction in a good story line. These authors captivated my mind, a stark contrast to those stale professorial recitations of formulas and factoids and definitions and scholarly punch lists; dull passionless monologues and even less compelling textbooks, with their sanitized paragraphs that could well have been written by a software program.
So I started writing again.
And in the writing, I discovered that words
are powerful indeed. I kept
journals. I used the kind of fountain pen my dad used.
He would say, “If you are going to take the time to write it down, you
may as well use a fine writing instrument… and develop a handwriting with a
little flair. Make a good
impression for people who will take the time to read.”
And when my readers discover that I am left handed, they say, “Ah… that explains it.”
I would go back and re-read the things I had written, and somehow, it gave me a new sense of clarity about myself and the people in my life and the world I occupy. Like John-Boy Walton, I wanted to be known as “a writer.” But it seemed so presumptuous to think that others might find my stuff interesting, or helpful.
So I just kept writing. I moved up to a word processor. Once in a while, I’d get published in an inconsequential magazine or the editor would put an essay on the editorial page in the newspaper. Friends would say nice things.
But nothing really clicked. I’ve been one more chump with a collection of scattered essays and half-baked stories and letters who when asked, “what would you really like to do if time and money were not factors?” will answer “someday I’d like to write a book.”
Yeah, right.
Then LeaderFOCUS came along.
* * * * * * *
Chuck Swindoll gave me permission to write conversationally. Well, not that he personally gave consent… he did it by example. Other writers, too. Paul Little. Max Lucado. Garrison Keillor. Lance Morrow.
Permission to break some of the rules. The short, incomplete sentence. The single word paragraph. Then, meandering sentences that wander here and there and carry the reader floating down in the current and around the bend opening up a new vista as the words flow into the next thought as easily as a canoe drifts downriver in the morning mist.
These are style things. But they are designed to hold your interest. And make it fun.
* * * * * *
Swindoll also talked about the difference between real writers and wannabes. Someone told him, if you want to write, don’t wait for some ethereal moment of inspiration someday. Start putting words on a page regularly. Start thinking like a writer. Find your style. Develop a purpose for your work. Learn the craft by doing the craft. And for Chuck, that regular discipline was a thing called “Think It Over.” He did that weekly for years. I read most of them.
One day last summer, I was playing around with a couple ideas. I wanted to find a concept that was big enough to motivate me to stay with it.
I thought about you.
You are a leader. Leadership is not a destination as much as it is a process. You are in a significant role. You affect and effect lives every day. You battle fatigue. Discouragement. Disappointment. Sometimes you are misunderstood. Misrepresented. Sometimes, your place is a lonely one.
I started playing around with the word. Leader. Leadership. And then I liked the word “focus.” Focus on Leaders. Leadership focus. LeaderFOCUS.
It was like one of those moments of inspiration. Yes. I liked it. I played with some logo effects in a graphics program. “That’s it,” I thought. That’s what I want to do. I want my observations, and experiences and insights to be directed to my friends and clients and associates – many of whom occupy positions of influence. I decided I wanted somehow to connect – and through my words, motivate, encourage, and affirm you in the process of becoming successful.
I had my arms around the technology. I would e-mail a link to a web page, and there present my essays with a certain look and a feel. Add a little graphic to make a point. And do it on Monday mornings, when we are all trying to get back in the saddle with a little enthusiasm.
And here we are, a year later. Fifty-two LeaderFOCUS letters… done.
* * * * * * *
Vince Edwards played the role of Dr. Ben Casey, a neurosurgeon in a weekly television drama that dominated prime time from 1961 to 1966. I was a junior high and high school student in those years, and watched Dr. Casey often. He had a weekly bout with difficult medical cases and difficult patients and colleagues and community leaders.
Dr. Casey’s mentor was Dr. David Zorba, played by the famous stage actor, the late Sam Jaffe. The younger Casey was stumped by something just about every week, and somewhere around the middle of every episode, he would corner Dr. Zorba, who looked every bit the wise veteran, with a full head of frizzy white hair that gave him an Einstein look. Casey would pose the tough question. They would debate alternatives. Sometimes vigorously. But Zorba the counselor always came up with a timely word.
Each episode of “Ben Casey” began with Dr. Zorba taking chalk to a blackboard and drawing out five symbols. As he drew them, he would explain the meaning of each – “Man. Woman. Birth. Death.” And then as he drew a figure eight lying horizontally on its side and he would say, “Infinity.” It set a philosophical tone. Then the music came up, and the show was underway.
I was about fourteen years old. But to this day, I remember Dr. Zorba’s words.
This was a time when religion and spirituality was officially sanitized from prime time television. Dick VanDyke never took Laura to church, as far as I remember. The Beaver didn’t go to Vacation Bible School. “Father Knows Best,” was the title of the program starring Robert Young, but he never began the family meal with a prayer. God was strangely absent from television in the sixties. That decade, Time Magazine even suggested from its cover that “GOD IS DEAD.” So Dr. Zorba’s counsel to Ben Casey seemed almost revolutionary.
“Mankind is incurably religious.” he said. (This was the sixties, before the word was changed to humankind.)
Incurably religious. It was a phrase that made me think.
* * * * * *
This Monday morning is a holiday. Labor Day. Hopefully, you will take a well-earned break from the labors.
And on this Labor Day, LeaderFOCUS passes a milestone. It begins its second year. I’m gunna keep writing.
I’ve received lots of encouragement from you. This week, I’ve included a page entitled "what people are saying." Take a look.
There is no shortage of material. As I have for fifty two Mondays, I’ll talk about the news, the books I’m reading, the people who mark my life, the movies and stories that teach us how to make things happen… things that matter.
I want LeaderFOCUS to be inspirational. It takes some time to read it through… but when you are done, I want you to feel that it was worth the time and effort. And that you are energized and motivated and focused and refreshed for one more Monday morning. And maybe even entertained.
The English language has endless possibilities. It was developed by the same quirky people who gave us the inch, and the foot and the mile. I’m going to keep on finding ways to say it, tell it, and write it.
And you know by now, I am an incurable Christian. God will continue to get honorable mention. We are spiritual creatures. He will be part of the conversation.
LeaderFOCUS goes on.
Because what you do really does matter.
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2000
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
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