Get The “Hack” Outta Life

November 4, 2009

Hack

If you’ve never checked out Lifehacker.com, you really should.  It’s built on the idea that you can “hack” or find “work arounds” to eliminate much of the regular mundane stuff that bogs us down and eats up our time and money.  With that idea in mind, the site is filled with all kinds of great info on easier ways to get around the regular things everyone has to deal with every day.  The last time I checked the site, they had ideas for everything from a cheaper way to build a first aid kit for your car, to a way to keep your visits to the coffee shop to a minimum, to a easier way to build a theater system in your home.

It’s flat out chocked full with a whole horde of ideas on how to find little shortcuts and “hacks” to make life easier.  I love the site, and use it on a regular basis.

In a similar vein, I see people trying to teach others that they can “hack” their way through the difficult parts of their lives.  They promulgate products and offer up programs promising to have found a “work around” that’ll work for them.  It comes assured as a way to delete difficulty—and then when it doesn’t work, it’s because they didn’t work hard enough or they quit too soon.

I see it all the time. Someone comes around with an easy answer, the promise is too much to pass up, and someone takes the bait. Then, after months and months of time and money, when it’s obvious the snake oil isn’t going to take hold, the answer comes that the sufferer simply didn’t want it bad enough.

The fact is, life is hard—and some things just can’t be fixed, no matter how bad we want them to. Life is filled with adversity and frustration that can’t be “worked around.” Although there is little question that there are ideas to help buoy us up in times of trouble and discord, the majority of the hard stuff simply has to be worked through.

There’s no quick fix, no pill, no “hack” or “cheat” that can change the harsh realities of life.  For the most part the only prescription or program that will have any effect is a healthy dose of, “Pull up your bootstraps.”  “Suck it up,” isn’t real popular, and definitely not PC, but reality is that most times it’s the only answer that really makes any difference.

We all know suffering, but what we also know is that there’s no easy out, no quick fix, no magic spell that can make it ”all better.” But in the end that’s a beautiful thing, because when the balance sheet is finally made right, it’s the hard things that we’ll be most grateful for.

They are the times where we learn the most about who we are and what we’re made of.  They are the times when we get the chance to grow. It’s the struggle that stretches us; it’s the banging against the rocks that will keep us tough.

Only by being “knocked down,” do we find out if we’ve got the strength to get up off the.

There will be some that will read this and say…”So, what then?  Is there nothing to do?  Is there nothing that can be done?”

The answer is, “Of Course not.” There are so many things that we can do to lessen suffering—We just have to accept that most times we can’t have it taken away, and that we can’t take it away for others.  In fact, we shouldn’t.  For, the real irony is that it’s our own opportunity to endure adversity that gives us the ability to find out what we’re really made of.

Adversity will come (I promise you that), and it’ll be a real humdinger.  But, when it comes, embrace it and accept it.  Don’t waste your time trying to “hack” your way out of it.  Just get after the business of enduring it well and watch the lessons you learn. I’m not saying it’ll be fun—no one ever promised you a rose garden—but, if you keep on keepin’ on, it’ll shape you in ways you never dreamed.

Jh-

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Posted by Jason Hall

I Can Do Anything For 80 Years

October 22, 2009

Hospital Traction 1st Acc._2

I have been taught the importance of being positive from the youngest days of my life.  I don’t remember a time when having a PMA (Positive Mental Attitude) wasn’t a regular part my parents instruction on the proper way to live a life.

Therefore, growing up, I tried to make a positive outlook a part of my life.  I tried to look at the glass half full, tried to see the best in those around me and tried to concentrate on the good and forget the bad.

Then at fifteen and a half, on the 13th of July 1986 my life changed in a second.

I went from a completely healthy young man in the best shape of my life to paralyzed from the chest down with only partial use of my arms and no use of my hands.

As difficult as that transition was, it was the first nights that were the most harrowing.  My lungs filled with mucus to the point where you could barely see any clear part of my lung on the x-ray.  My pulmonologist told me it was the worst case of pneumonia he had ever seen.

You didn’t have to have a medical degree to understand that my life was in the balance.  In those days, I had one wish.  It wasn’t to walk, it wasn’t to be accepted back at home, and it wasn’t to have a normal life-It was to live.

All I wanted was to wake up the next morning.

After a few days when I began to feel, not quite out of the woods, but on my way there, my dad came to the side of my bed and asked me if I felt like I could deal with life as a quadriplegic, I replied, “I can do anything for 80 years.” I was so grateful that I’d kept my life—everything seemed better.  Even paralysis seemed doable.

In the days since then, I’ve almost lost my life at least one other time.  And in those days, good or bad, I’ve tried to recall  that same feeling.  Whenever life gets difficult (as it often does) I try to remember that no matter how bad it gets, I still have my life.

Knowing that I am still breathing makes everything else challenging small in comparison.  It makes a real difference in my effort to live a happy life.  It is difficult to complain about the stumbling blocks when you find a way to remember that you are still around to stumble.

When things get hard, remember to love life.  Be grateful that you are still here.  Be glad that you have a chance to struggle and the negativity will be replaced with that Positive Mental Attitude I was taught so much about in my youth

Jh-

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Posted by Jason Hall

Pick a Direction and Go!

October 16, 2009

Football Victory

When I came into the life insurance industry, I was blessed with great success—success that many never thought possible.  Much of that success was due to mentors who took a direct interest in my dreams and goals and worked hard to help me see them to fruition.

One of those mentors was Chuck Cutler.  In college, Chuck was a great wide receiver for BYU, and as such had already won my adoration.  But, it was in his personal interest in me, and my success during my work at Mutual Of New York, that he won my respect.

I learned many things during my time under Chuck’s management, but one of the things that had the most lasting impact came from a story he told me on our way to an appointment.

Now, this wasn’t your regular “across town” appointment.  This sales meeting was at seven-thirty in the morning in the little town of Montpelier, ID—just over three hours away from our offices in Salt Lake City.

I picked Chuck up at our offices at 4:00 a.m. so we could be on time and prepared for the appointment in Montpelier.  We had both been working into the late evening the night before, so in an effort to stay awake we tried to keep the conversation lively.

As we made our way, the conversation eventually turned to his football days at BYU.  With him being a former athlete at the Y and me having been a Brigham Young fan from essentially birth, neither of us was surprised. We both knew it was bound to happen.

Reminiscing about his time playing ball, he came to a story from the early days of his career at BYU.

It was the middle of practice, and what with him being a young wide receiver in a program filled with great receivers, he wanted to make sure to make a statement from the get go.

He lined up in front of one of the team’s senior defensive backs, the quarterback called the signal, the center snapped the ball, and Chuck was off.  As he ran his appointed route he worked hard to juke left and right in an effort to lose the defensive back.

The longer the back stayed with Chuck, the harder Chuck worked to lose him.  He pulled out all his best moves, shucking and jiving down the field. Eventually all this work brought forth some results.

As Chuck moved back and forth, he eventually slipped and twisted his ankle.  The play ended, and the coach walked over to where Chuck was on the field—an embarrassing situation that Chuck had in no way intended for.

The coach pulled him up from off the ground, and simply said (as much as any football coach can simply say anything), “Pick a Direction and Go!”

I think often about this story and it’s message.  Sometimes as we work to gain success in our lives, we end up doing just what Chuck did; we shuck and jive our way through life, trying to go in too many ways at one time, leading to a lot of movement, but little progress.  When try to focus on too much all at once, everything just ends up blurry and we end up with little more than an embarrassing story and a twisted ankle.

Conversely, when we pick our direction and go, our chances for success increase exponentially.  We become dedicated to one destination and with that in mind we are more likely to complete our routes and catch the ball.

Try it; pick one area of your life, then pick a direction—and go. If you will, your ability to succeed will increase, your life will be littered with achievement, and you’ll end up with an “All-American” attitude will make you unstoppable.

Jh-

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Posted by Jason Hall

Labor’s Day

September 7, 2009

3040475_blog

When I was a kid, Labor Day was always a different kind of Holiday around my house.  My mom and dad took the day’s name literally and we Labored all Day.

I would be in my yard digging, weeding, or mowing while I watched my friends all pass by on their way to the lake, the river, or the movies to have some fun.  Countless times I tried to explain to my parents that other people were spending the day having fun and that the name of the holiday could be taken more figuratively.

It didn’t make any difference, and every year my brothers and sister continued laboring and our friends and their families continued celebrating the holiday the more traditional way.

What I didn’t realize until much later was that my parents really were treating the day like a holiday.  They weren’t using Labor Day to cheat us from opportunity; they were using the day to teach us how to work.  It didn’t matter that we were working on Labor Day (Ko, Cole and I are going to the pool today), what mattered was that my parents taught us how to work.

As I left home I began to see that this isn’t something every kid has the opportunity to understand.  I started to realize that all those days we spent doing chores, working in the yard, or cleaning the kitchen helped me to know the value of a hard days work—and that that understanding in itself was a precious commodity.

I learned that you could control your own destiny and build your own success if you know how to work.  Additionally, I found that all of the of the other things that can bring success that can’t be controlled directly though work (i.e. who you know, right place right time) can at least be influenced through a person’s willingness to be fully engaged.  I was taught that by working hard, I could make my own luck.

I was also taught to value the feeling that comes from knowing you put in a hard days work.

After my auto accident I spent literal years of my life lying in bed.  Interestingly, I found that during that time one of the tings that I missed most was that feeling of pleasure that comes no other way than from the knowledge that you gave your all.  That feeling you get after working all day, be it at your job, in the yard, around the house, and you finally sit down on the couch and you know that you put everything you had into the days objective.

I would have people come to visit me in the hospital complaining about their job, complaining about their work, and I would be so jealous that they had a place to put their day’s labors—that they had the opportunity to work.

I’m grateful my mom and dad taught me how to work.  It’s a commodity that is more and more becoming difficult to find and in short supply. I’m grateful for those difficult days in the hospital when I learned that it’s a privilege to have the opportunity to work hard.

This Labor Day (whether we are laboring or not) let’s remember that hard work is a blessing and that some of the greatest opportunities in our lives come from good old-fashioned hard work.

Jh-

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Posted by Jason Hall

Believe: Live & In Color

September 1, 2009

A cut from one of my presentations that has always been one of my favorites. Tell me what you think.

Enjoy!

Jh-

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Posted by Jason Hall

A Thousand Bars Of Gold

August 21, 2009

Bars Of Gold

What if earlier today when you opened up the mailbox to get the daily mail amidst all the coupons and bills you found a letter from a law firm you’d never heard of—a  law firm that said they specialized in final estates? What if upon opening the letter from said law firm, you found a long-lost, unknown uncle had left you something in his will? What if you later found that this long-lost, unknown uncle was unfathomably wealthy, and what if you found out that, for whatever reason, he decided to leave you a thousand bars of gold?

Let’s further say that one of the conditions of receiving these bars of gold was that you had to take them with you from the reading of the will. Obviously, because of the weight and size of a thousand bars of gold no one expected you to be able to throw them in the trunk of your car, so transportation was provided.

Unfortunately, the provided transportation was a flatbed truck. No security, no armored car, just a regular, old, flatbed truck.  The long-lost unknown uncle did make sure that the truck had the capacity to carry the weight, and made sure the transportation was provided to you free of charge (not that you’re really worried about the truck rental charge at this point)—but that was it.

Would you take a thousand bars of gold home with you? Would you think of all the other things you had otherwise scheduled for the day and just figure that it would be easier to move the bars on the weekend? Would you put them in a storage garage? Would you leave them unwatched and unprotected?

Of course not! You would leave the reading of the will and do everything you could to get those bars to a place that was safe and secure. You would find a bank that very day that could keep this kind of precious commodity in a safe that you felt was, well, safe. You would most likely continually research other places that also had vaults to make sure that your bars of gold were in the safest place that could possibly be. And, you would most assuredly keep them protected and make sure their value is constantly monitored.

You would do everything in your power to make sure this precious, valuable, gift was safe.

Interestingly enough each of us has something just as valuable as those thousand bars of gold. It’s our attitude. A positive mental attitude can make more difference in our lives than any amount of money.  Yet, so often we are completely casual with our attitudes.  We don’t do anything to protect it.

We allow media filled with negativity to infiltrate and influence our minds.  TV, books. Articles, music filled with “can’t do” ideas are almost invited to sell their snake oil of worthlessness, sorrow, frustration and, not good enough to our souls.

These concepts steal away our ability to think positively.  As bad as the concepts themselves are, the people that sell them are worse.  They are those people who cannot find any good anywhere.  Their mouths spew nothing but negativity—and they are thieves.  They steal away our opportunity to see the best and fill our minds with the worst.

None of us would ever let these types of bandits around our bars of gold, and we should, in the same vein, keep them from our precious attitudes.  We must therefore protect our mindsets from those who would degrade them, and simply decide that the risk is too high to interact with anyone or invest in anyplace that does anything but raise our self worth keeping it safe and secure

When we do, we give ourselves the opportunity for the best life. Obviously, there is no guarantee that will live free of difficulty and hardship. But, when we protect our positive attitudes with the safety of Fort Knox, we know that regardless of how difficult a challenge or how hard the day we can make it through.

When your attitude is protected as well as a thousand bars of gold, every day will be filled with riches.

Jh-

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Posted by Jason Hall

Go Wonderful

August 19, 2009

So much of what we hear on the radio today is music filled with lyrics about how horrible life can be. You don’t have to listen very long to hear about “bad days” and how “life sucks.” Regardless of the genre it seems like the airwaves, iTunes and music stores are filled with anthems about frustration, loss, and indifference. It’s all about the worthlessness of life.

Recently, I came across a different kind of song named “Wonderful” by the artist Gary Go. It’s a new kind of anthem, and it speaks about a new way of looking at life. Part of the lyrics read:

If what you’ve lost cannot be found
And the weight of the world weighs you down
No longer with the will to fly
You stop to let it pass you by
Don’t stop to let it pass you by
You gotta look yourself in the eye
Say, “I am”
Say, “I am”
Say, “I am wonderful”
Oh you are.

It’s a great song to listen to, and can be a wonderful pick me up. Don’t get me wrong, I love all kinds of music and have one of the most extensive and eclectic iTunes libraries you’ll find out there. But in the middle of all the stuff that can sometimes be a downer, it’s nice to have Gary Go to remind me that I am “Wonderful.”

Jh-

Here’s a video of the entire song. Enjoy!

1 Comment | Attitude, Optimism | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

“It’s Only a Car.”

July 31, 2009

Jason in Van

In our lives, there are times when we find ourselves in a situation where we’ve done our best to keep up, to do what’s right and despite our most valiant efforts, our best just isn’t good enough. Simply put, something goes wrong, or we wrong another and we have to face the consequences. Mistakes, accidents, lapses in judgement, call them what you will, but they happen to us all, and many times there isn’t anything more we can do than just ask for some forgiveness.

As hard as it is to ask for forgiveness, sometimes I think it’s even more difficult to dole it out. We all want forgiveness and, when we need it, we want it by the pound for the penny. However, when someone comes to ask for forgiveness, and we are asked to give it, the only pound we often think of is the pound of flesh we believe that we deserve.

I learned a great lesson about forgiveness early in my driving career.

I grew up in Boise, Idaho and for reasons that made a lot of sense to me then, but make very little sense to me now, we were able to be licensed to drive when we were 14. On the day I got the little piece of plastic that made it legal for me to drive, our family didn’t have a “third car” or “kids car” so, much of my early driving happened in a big brown GMC van. It was often hard to see everything from every angle in the brown beast. But, ended up being a great learning environment for all of the vans I would have to drive later as a result of my injury.

In my teens, through all the foolishness, I worked hard to respect my parents property and did my best not to make a mistake. But, just like anyone driving a 1/2 ton van, it was often difficult to see everything from every angle.

One Saturday, I was backing my van out of the garage and sweating bullets because, as I looked out my rear view mirror, I saw my dad’s brand-new BMW parked on the opposite side of the driveway. Carefully, slowly and working to anticipate every possible situation, I slowly moved my van through the driveway, and toward the street.

Just as I felt I was home free, I heard the sound nearly every teenager dreads–that horrible steel on steel sound that puts a hole where your stomach once was.  My van had hit his pristine “Beemer” and I feared the worst. I quickly put the van in Park and hustled around to see how much damage had been done.

I was grateful to see that there were no dents, but ruined as I saw the scratch that went across both doors on the drivers side. My first thought was that hopefully I could just buff them out. Regardless which car product I used or how much elbow grease I applied, the scratch just simply wouldn’t go away.

Finally, I knew what I had to do. I went into my dad and told him that I’d hit his car. He asked if I was okay, and I told him that it wasn’t that kind of accident. We walked outside and for what seemed like hours, he quietly circled his “Not Just a Car but a Driving Machine” occasionally looking back at at the Van.

Over and over I kept telling him how sorry I was and how I’d work off every penny. I kept explaining how I’d been so careful, and how I was sure I was far enough away. Finally, he turned to me ready to speak and I prepared myself to never again see another penny and be grounded until I was 24 (basically life in my young eyes). It was then when he taught me a lesson of a lifetime.

He turned to me and said, “It’s only a car, son.” He put his arm around me and with my jaw dragging on the floor, we went back into the house.

I was blown away. Not because I felt like I had somehow gotten off easy. But, because of the words he said. I kept thinking about all the ways he could have handled the situation, all the punishments he could have offered up, and about his words, “It’s only a car, son.”

I know he was upset. I know he was disappointed that his car had been damaged. I know it was going to be an expense he didn’t want to have to pay. There were many lessons he could’ve taught me that day. The value of a dollar, the importance of being a careful driver, the way you have to take responsibility for your actions, etc. But that day, he decided to teach me a lesson about forgiveness.

In my life today, when someone does me wrong I try to remember his message. I try to remember that, for the most part the things we get upset about, are just that, things. And, that what matters most are the people we interact with and the way they feel when our interaction is over.

There are many that will say he was too easy, there are many that will say he was too soft, and that that kind of parenting just doesn’t work.

It wasn’t the way he parented every day, but on that day his choice was the right one. For, the trade-off was worth it. That day, he taught me a lesson I have worked to never forget, one we would all do well to remember. He taught me that even when the stakes are high we can still forgive, we can still be kind, we can still work to be understanding of others.

The next time you are wronged and you begin to exact your pound of flesh remember that things can be replaced and people can’t, Remember that in the end “It’s only a car.”

Jh-

This summer has been crazy, and I haven’t been blogging as regularly as I should have. I’m coming out with a little Mea Culpa and asking for a little understanding and forgiveness. I’m working to be more regular with my posts in order to keep you interested and coming back more frequently.

2 Comments | Forgiveness, Spirituality | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

Freedom

July 4, 2009
Independence Day

Independence Day

On this Fourth of July people’s minds begin to turn to their freedoms. They begin to think about how grateful they are to live in a country where they can live, act, and worship freely.

I too am grateful for these freedoms. I am grateful for the price paid by so many to allow me to have those freedoms. Often, I think it becomes easy to forget that the freedoms we sometimes so easily take for granted can, if were not careful, be taken away.

On July 13, 1986 I very nearly lost my freedom.

I was involved in a diving accident that caused me to become a quadriplegic, paralyzed from the chest down. So many things were taken from me that day. Many of them were simple and basic freedoms. Like the freedom to feed myself. The freedom to get around without a wheelchair. The freedom to get in and out of bed on my own. The freedom to bathe, shave and dress myself.

Then, on the 21st of November, a car accident took even more freedoms.

But truth be told, through it all, some pretty incredible people have allowed me to keep the freedoms that matter most.

After my diving accident, friends sent me pictures that reminded me of their love and support. Along with the posters they also sent, those photos were plastered all over my room. These good people reminded me that I was free to be a part of their lives, and free to let their support lift me up when I felt down.

Good Friends

Good Friends

Good Stuff

Good Stuff

During both accidents, and through any other little bump in the road, my family continues to support me all the way. They made it clear that I was free to be a part of a family all my days on the earth. They reminded me that I was free to dream; free to go and do anything my mind believed that I could achieve. They  taught me I was free to ignore the negativity that so often others tried to surround me with.

Good Support

Good Support

Good Fun

Good Fun

Literally, weeks into meeting Kolette she let me know that I was free to expect the same kind of relationship that able bodied young men did. From the moment we were wed, she showed me that unconditional love was also a freedom I could count on. The moment she stood in that emergency room after the car accident she made it abundantly clear that her dedication was a freedom I could never lose. Throughout my life Kolette has taught me that I’m alway free to love life.

Good Love

Good Love

Good Times

Good Times

Now, Coleman’s innocent eyes seemed to communicate that I’m free to love and be loved in return. Over and over, he reminds me that I’m free to try and, although things may not always work out the way I’d planned, we are free to figure things out on our own. We may not get things on our first try, and when we do get them, it may not always be pretty, but he allows us the freedom to find our own rhythm and our own path.

Good Boy

Good Boy

I know there are others who aren’t as lucky as I. I know that there are many in my situation who simply go home from the hospital and stay there. I know one young man whose family brought him home from the hospital after his diving accident, built him a large bay window, and every day sat him in front of that window. He ended up spending every day of what ended up to be a very short life literally “watching the world go by.”

So on this day of celebrating freedom, I celebrate mine. As I do so, I celebrate the countless numbers of people who have helped me to fight for the freedom I have, and so I celebrate them as well. I celebrate the freedom my future holds.

I celebrate life.

Jh-

Two weeks before my accident

Two weeks before my accident

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Posted by Jason Hall

Choose the Right!

May 18, 2009

Me in my first handicapped accessible van

Me in my first handicapped accessible van

After my diving accident, it wasn’t long into my junior year of high school that, other than being in a wheelchair, life began to return back to normal. After a lot of work, and because of some great friends and wonderful family, I was back in the regular flow of my life living just like any other 16-year-old boy.

I was taking a full load at school. I was very socially involved in school. I elected junior class president, was going out on dates and was even back at the dances. I was attending basketball and football games; pretty much living with a full scholastic and social calendar.

One of the great contributors to this return to normalcy was the fact that I could drive. I had finally become licensed to drive with hand controls and my parents had helped me to get a handicap accessible van. I’d gone out and gotten licensed to drive with those hand controls, so I could actually use this van to give me all the freedom it promised. There was only one hitch. I couldn’t make left-hand turns.

I’m not exactly sure how a person gets licensed to drive without being able to make a left-hand turn, but I was 16 and the state was willing to provide me with a license, so I was off.

I did however have enough sense to know that it was going to be tricky only driving with right-hand turns. I would therefore coerce my brothers and sister to go with me to the church parking lot so I could practice doing figure eight filled left-hand turns. I had to take someone with me so that on the way to the church–or in the church’s parking lot, when I couldn’t pull off the left-hand turn, there was someone to throw the wheel keeping me from ending up inside the church while still inside my car.

The idea was that as soon as I knew I wasn’t going to get the wheel all the way over I’d ask for help. This didn’t always work exactly to plan. There were many times when on our way to the empty parking lot I’d realize that I wasn’t going to pull off the turn without enough time for the person with me to do anything about it.

I recall many a time when, with my sister as my copilot I would call out, “Help, help, help!” and she, working as quickly as she could to help get the wheel rotating to the left, would understandably be a little late on the draw. With the wheel not completely turned, we would end up off-roading through a ditch, crossing over someone’s backyard or through a makeshift fence made of stakes and chicken wire.

During those few months while I was learning to make my left hand turns, I needed to find a way to drive safely on my own. In order to do this I would map out every destination so that I could get there making only right-hand turns. In essence, I’d begin at my home and, right turn after right turn going around and circles that continued to grow in size until I reached my final destination. In order for this to work, everything had to come off perfectly. Roadwork and detour signs wouldn’t just slow me down, they  would stop me altogether.

Even my best planning didn’t always fix everything. When I drove to high school the only way to get into the parking lot was to make a left hand turn. This meant I had to park along the street across from my school.

If there was a morning when the street was full,I would simply have to use my right hand turns to go around the block again hoping that when I returned a spot would be open. I would do this over and over until someone either moved, a spot freed up, or I ran out of gas and had to park.

In the middle of this adventure my life, there was a buzz beginning at school. The big Christmas formal was coming up, and everyone was waiting to see if they were going, and who they’re going with. It It was a girl ask guy dance and so as young men we waited with anticipation to see if we were going to be lucky enough to be asked.

Then, one day I got picked. My friend Susie Wilcox asked me to be her date. I was so excited.

This was my first formal dance, and this time I could drive. The only other dance I’ve ever attended was before I had my van and I and had to be lifted in and out of the car by my date. This time there was no lifting. I was so happy to be able to drive my date to the dance instead of having to have her throw me in and out of the car.

With anticipation and exhilaration at an all-time high I rushed to rent my tuxedo. I went into the shop knowing exactly the look I wanted. It was the 80’s and, working hard to be hip, I had the clerk fit me for a white tuxedo with a lavender tie and cummerbund (lavender so that my tie and cummerbund would match her dress). I opted against tails as, sitting in my chair, they looked more like mudflaps than tails.

I left the tuxedo shop and went directly to the florist to order the corsage. With tuxedo and corsage taken care of, all I had to do now was wait. It seemed like it took forever for the dance to finally arrive. But, like all things, the waiting eventually ended and it was time for me to go pick up Susie and go to the dance.

Since it was an “girl ask guy” dance, she was in charge of doing all the planning. Susie and her friend Shannon had decided to make it a double date, and together planned where we would eat and what we would do.

This was important information for me to procure. I knew where the dance was, that was public knowledge, so I was able to plan my way there in all right-hand turns. But, if I didn’t know where we were going to eat I wouldn’t have the same lead time to plan my route.

I was nervous to ask as I had decided to keep my “right turn only” information to myself. It didn’t seem very masculine to me at 16 to accept Susie’s invitation only to let her know that my driving wasn’t exactly perfect. I asked where dinner was going to be unsure if I would get response. At my high school it was en vogue to keep these kinds of things a secret or a surprise, so I wasn’t sure she was going to give up the goods at all.

To my joy and happiness she told me where dinner was going to be held. I got out my little map of Boise and planned out our journey. I figured out how to get everybody picked up, off to dinner, away to the dance and finally home never making a left hand turn.

On the night of the dance, I made my way to Susie’s house. I arrived, and her mother came out to get photos just like a good mother should. I presented Susie with her corsage. I opted for a wrist corsage versus one that pinned on. Without the use of my hands having her slide the corsage on her wrist seemed a lot safer than me pinning it on her chest. In fact, had I opted for the pin corsage I probably would’ve had to map out my way to the emergency room with right-hand turns as well.

With everyone in the car, we were off and on our way casually driving to dinner.  About 5 miles down the road we came to an overpass that crossed over the interstate. Just as we started down the other side of the overpass Susie turned to me and asked me to get in the left-hand turn lane at the upcoming light. I knew the intersection was there, but since I couldn’t make a left hand turn was planning on going through the light and continuing on down the road.

I told her that she was mistaken as turning left wouldn’t get us to the restaurant where we were to eat dinner. She smiled and told me I was the one who was mistaken. She continued to inform me that original instructions were a ruse to keep me off of our dinners real location. She said it was her  “big surprise.” I remember thinking that both the words big and surprise were an understatement, and that her efforts to surprise me had definitely paid off.

I began wrestling with myself wondering what I should do. I didn’t want to tell her I couldn’t make the turn, but I didn’t want to be unsafe either. We finally arrived at the light, and I pulled into the left-hand turn lane. I thought if I was very careful and conscientious then I could pull this left-hand turn off, leaving me free from explaining my unique driving situation, and keep my manhood intact.

The light turned green, and the row of cars I was behind began making their left turn on-ramping to the interstate.

I positioned myself the best I could, and as I entered the intersection the wheel was actually turning to the left. I was sure that my confidence and care had paid off as I watched my hand pulling the wheel to the left. I was paying attention to the laws my instructor had taught me to keep what he taught me to drive, and I was paying attention to the laws of the road I’d learned during my driving test. The only laws I’d forgotten to remember were the laws of physics.

In retrospect, these are laws that really should have been the easiest to remember. I had learned these laws as a little boy.

Growing up in my family, whenever my mom had the five of us in her station wagon we paid special attention to these laws in a little game we used to call “Corners.” Whenever she would make a left-hand turn we would do everything in our power to see if we couldn’t shove whoever was sitting on the far right of the seat into the door paneling. The secret was that we knew, in addition to our own pushing, we had the momentum created in the turn.

This was a secret I forgot that day and halfway through the intersection I began to feel that momentum pulling me to the right.

Now normally, I’d have been wearing my seatbelt. But, when I put my tuxedo on that night it was apparent that either the tuxedo was too tight (or my chest was too large) for me to be able to have all the movement I needed to make right or left hand turns. So, my 16 year old mind hypothesized that I’d be better off without the belt. This too ended up a costly error.

Without the help of my belt, the farther we went into the intersection the more the momentum pulled. This, coupled with my inability to get the steering wheel to turn caused me to fall over the side of my chair and into Susie’s lap.

Instant runway van! Without anyone manning the steering wheel the van crossed the two lanes of traffic going our direction and into the traffic going the opposite direction.

Somehow we made it across all lanes unscathed. Thinking quickly on her feet, Susie threw my body back up into an upright position. As I worked to get my bearings, I looked out the front window and scared to death saw that we were heading straight into a green pole.

Susie grabbed the steering wheel and threw it to the left, turning the van just enough that we cleared the pole without a scratch. I then was able to put my hand on the break and stop us in the middle of a field that was in between the on-ramp and the freeway.

Susie and I looked at each other with a look of shock, fear, disbelief, fright and thankfulness all wrapped up in one. It took everything we had just to try and catch our breath. The couple we were double dating with was sitting in the backseat. when I turned to look at them, they had a completely different reaction. Smiling, laughing and slapping their knees they looked like they just been through a ride at Disneyland with such excitement that you’d think they wanted to do the whole thing over again.

I turned to Susie and said, “I think you should know, I can’t make left-hand turns.”  Without saying a word, she returned a look that said, “Oh really!” I told her that it would probably be a good idea if she told me where we were going to dinner so I could map it out in right-hand turns. Since we both felt the evening had plenty of surprise, she agreed and we were off.

The moral to the story, is always, always, Choose the Right.

All kidding aside the thing that got me in so much trouble that night was an unwillingness to do what I knew to be correct and a prideful desire to impress others by doing something I knew in my heart to be wrong.

I had so many opportunities to do the right thing. I could’ve told Susie when she asked me on a date. I could’ve told her when I picked her up. I could’ve told her at the top of the overpass when she told me we were changing the location for dinner.

I could’ve gotten out of the left-hand turn lane, or even asked for a little help. But, I didn’t and my decision to keep my pride and give up what I knew was right could have had very serious consequences.

Every day each of us is put in the same situation. Every day we have countless opportunities to decide if we’ll do what’s wrong or we’ll do what’s right. Knowing what’s wrong and what’s right isn’t the hard part. There’s something inside of each of us that tells us that. We’ve all been in situations where are doing something we shouldn’t, and no matter how hard we try to shut out that voice, we can’t. We know it’s wrong but our pride keeps us moving forward.

If are not careful those times when we “Choose the Wrong”, will come with serious consequences. You may not do yourself bodily injury, but you may end up emotionally injured, or find that you’ve hurt another.

On the other hand, when we “Choose the Right” we keep ourselves safe. No one anywhere, anytime has ever regretted the decision they made, or the way they felt when they did what they knew was right. It may cost us some of our foolish pride, but that’s okay, we’ve all got plenty of that.

Choose the Right. It may not always be the popular thing, and it may not be the easy thing, but it will always be the “right” thing. And everyone knows it’s good to be right.

Jh-


3 Comments | Choices, Do The Work | Tagged: , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

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