As a new quarter draws to a close, our team chose a closing thought on America as we look forward to the privilege to serve with the relaunch of our weekly "Route 66" during the 2nd Quarter:
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Friday, March 31, 2023
Tuesday, March 28, 2023
Notations From the Grid (Weekly Edition): Honoring Coach Wooden
COACHES NEVER LOSE
A team can lose. Any team can lose.
But in a sense, a very real sense a coach never loses.
For the job of a coach is over and finished once the starting whistle blows. They know they've won or lost before play starts.
For a coach has two tasks. The minor one is to teach skills: to teach a child how to run faster, hit harder, block better, kick farther, jump higher.
The second task: the major task is to make grown-ups out of children.
It’s to teach an attitude of mind. It’s to implant character and not simply impart skills.
It’s to teach children to play fair. This goes without saying. It's to teach them to be humble in victory and proud in defeat. This goes without saying.
But more importantly it’s to teach them to live up to their potential no matter what their potential is.
It’s to teach them to do their best and never be satisfied with what they are. But to strive to be as good as they can be if they tried harder.
A coach can never make a great player out of a child who isn’t potentially great. But they can make a great competitor out of anyone. And miraculously they can make a grown-up out of a child.
For a coach, the final score doesn’t read so many points for my team, so many points for theirs. Instead it reads: so many grown-ups out of so many children.
And this is the score that is never published. And this is the score that they read to themselves and in which they find their real joy when the last game is over.
Friday, March 24, 2023
Saturday, March 18, 2023
Friday, March 17, 2023
Notations On Our World (Special Edition): In America
The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
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