Most of us hate losing. If you don’t believe me, ask an Atlanta Falcons fan about our last Super Bowl trip or a BullDawg fan about that last NCAA Championship game. Or better yet, ask a Gonzaga basketball fan about that one loss in the Championship game. I bet it really hurt. So close to perfection. Yet so far from it.

Losing means failing. Failing is very personal. But failing is the doorway to the greatest personal high ever – overcoming. . . .

We have been through some tough seasons lately. And I am not just talking about the Falcons, the Dawgs or your favorite team. I am talking about pandemic level stuff. Deaths. Loss of loved ones. Business failures. Loss of livelihood. It is scary. . . .

. . . Fold the paper back up. Then visualize launching forward. And go do it. I believe in the power of failures and the high of overcoming. I believe both are real.

I have a problem. I am a Checklist-Aholic. I don’t remember the first time I put together a Checklist. I don’t even remember the first time that I did it in outline form with multiple subparagraphs. . . . .

But I confess that it brings me pleasure, comfort and a sense that I am in control. And that is a problem. A really, really big problem. . . . .

Business gurus say you accomplish what you measure: EBDITA, NOI, NOL, ROI, etc. Okay, then this recovering Checklist-Aholic wants you to measure me by whether we create businesses and environments that honor LOVE, EQUALITY, DIGNITY, INNOVATION, COMPASSION and EMPATHY. Forgive me if I still put together a colorful Checklist for a starting point. But do not forgive me if that Checklist leads to CONTROL and FEAR. Those aren’t the measurements that matter.

… This morning, I learned more about a man who suffered as a POW – Admiral James Stockdale. … Why did he and his story catch my attention this morning? Because we are prisoners in our homes right now. Okay, not like Admiral Stockdale was. We are not in the Hanoi Hilton and I won’t degrade his story with that level of comparison. BUT I will not degrade your story by saying that your present suffering is any less real and painful to you. … So, what do I believe? I believe that even while we are in “prison” that events are conspiring to free us. … Say “to hell” with the negative voices in our minds, in our social media and in our companies . . . step up and do something great today so that years from now when you tell our story, it has an ending that we love.

.As odd as this sounds, the COVID19 pandemic has triggered positive memories from all those moving days of my youth. . . . During this COVID19 pandemic as I look across our businesses and see the faces and the people, I know we are being called to pack a lot of boxes and move – maybe not like I used to do – maybe not to a new physical location. But a move, nonetheless. As businesses and as people, we are going to be in a new place when this pandemic is over. Those businesses and people that will survive, are the ones who recognize this movement and embrace it as quickly as possible. . . . it is Moving Day . . . Where are you moving to? You better know because if you don’t, you may be one of those lost boxes that we never found.

Sometimes I feel 100 years old and it is not because my health is bad. More the aging from memories created through so many experiences -- good and bad. We truly are blessed when we have the opportunity to experience outside our normal. And life has thrown more than my fair share of ab-normal at me.

My daughter, Lindsey, was taking a history class at Georgia recently. She was talking about a civil rights figure that they were studying. In our conversation, I mentioned to her that a memorable life event was the day I got to introduce that very man (John Lewis). She asked me to tell her all about that day.

Last weekend, we all heard and saw what happens when we decide we know someone before we really know him. A young man is dead (Trayvon Martin). Another man is forever marked as a racist and a killer (George Zimmerman). And a whole country is divided over what went wrong and who is responsible.

My favorite interior designers posted a blog that made me think. Now before I talk about that blog. Lets spend a minute analyzing the irony of me writing that as an opening proposition. First, according to Cindy my sense of “design” was forfeited when I hung the Buffalo Head in the downstairs den.

Some of my favorite reads are those personal letters captured within a page in history. Recently I read one that a father sent to his son who was off studying at college. It made me wonder if I had the wisdom and insight it took to send something as thoughtful and caring as his message? 

Givers are the best lunch partners. They have this special buzz about them. Recently I sat at a luncheon celebrating those who give in our community with my friend, Mike Linch. We were talking when I stopped to listen to the buzz of the room. The conversations were many. Each voice seemed to be about the same level and the harmony from the conversations was refreshing like the music from crickets on a cool spring evening.

Well, I was adjusting the rear view mirror in my car on one of the coldest days recently. And “snap.” The rear view mirror broke off in my hand. Still possessing skills sharply honed in my childhood, I immediately released the mirror and glanced left then right to make sure no one . . . especially my mom . . . saw me break the mirror.

Several years back, a group of friends and I went to New York to see Philip Seymour Hoffman in Death of A Salesman. Hoffman played Willy Loman. To say I was mesmerized by his performance would not allow you to see how closely I sat on the edge of my seat.

Never before did I realize how life changing it could be? Why didn’t someone tell me this when I graduated from school, got married and made all those important life decisions that set my course? I