I Am the Greatest of All Time!

Heavyweight boxer Muhammad Ali (Cassius Clay to some of us old timers) boastfully claimed, on multiple occasions, that he was, “The Greatest of All Time.” At age 22 he beat Sonny Liston to become the heavyweight champion so we know he was great. Heck, he might have been right; perhaps he was the greatest ever.

On January 17^th, 2012 Ali celebrated his 70^th birthday. His reaching that ripe old age gave me pause to reflect on him, his career, and the concept of GREATNESS.

I remember, as a kid, that excitement rippled through school, amongst my friends, for 3 types of events more than any other things that happened in our world. Those three events were, the end of the school year, any Evel Knievel stunt, and Ali-Frazier boxing matches.

The end of the school year is obvious; free time, unlimited baseball at the field behind our house, sleeping in and staying up late. What could be better?

Evel Knievel was the ultimate showman, and a cartoonish character that many of us admired for his brave (foolhardy?) ability (dumb luck?) that enabled him to perform spectacular stunts. The fact that he broke a lot of bones and had to walk with a cane due to stunts gone wrong, but was still willing to get back on a motorcycle to attempt more difficult stunts spoke to us of his courage (inability to hold a steady job?). Discussing whether he’d be able to successfully complete his next jump was a major topic of discussion amongst the boys at Washburn Elementary School in Bloomington.

Ali-Frazier. NO event stirred the passions of young boys as much as a heavyweight championship fight pitting Muhammad Ali against Smokin’ Joe Frazier. There were definite favorites and people typically loved one and hated the other. Me? I liked ‘em both, but usually rooted for Frazier to win. Ali was a little too boastful and arrogant for my likes. It wasn’t until years later I learned ‘it ain’t braggin’ if you actually done it’. Ali could back up his boasts as he was one of the greatest boxers we’ll ever see.

But what of Ali’s greatness? One school of thought posits that a certain gift, or genetic makeup is required for one to have a chance at greatness. Obviously a short man has little chance of being an NBA great, just as a tall man or woman has little chance of riding a mount to the Kentucky Derby winners circle. Ali had the physical tools, 6 foot 3 inches tall, muscular physique, and lightning quick reflexes.

Studies have revealed that it takes 10,000 hours of practice at a pursuit to even expect to reach expert status. It doesn’t matter the pursuit; dance, playing the cello, boxing, they all require a vast amount of quality training.

How does one get quality training though to achieve greatness? In Ali’s case a lot of the help came from largely unheard of trainers, handlers, and sparring partners. There were A LOT of people behind the scenes helping him achieve greatness.

I think that’s more common than people realize. I first heard the term “Help-mate” at my Dad’s retirement. Someone used that term to describe Mom. I hadn’t really ever thought very deeply about how effective their relationship was, but the term "help-mate" made me think.

Dad was up in the pulpit on Sundays, serving on commissions during the week, and ministering to his congregation around the clock. How was he able to tirelessly serve so many people? The answer to that question sat at the kitchen table with us every day, as we ate a meal she prepared, with a family she raised, in a home she maintained, so her husband could do what he was expert at.

Mom was willing to do the unsung, largely unheralded things in order to support Dad; kind of like the sparring partners, trainers, and dieticians, who helped Ali develop into a world champion. Some do the mundane support work so others can do the more noticeable things. Thanks Mom for all you have done to support Dad and others.

For 15 years I worked as an equipment manager for the Golden Gopher football team at the University of Minnesota. I wasn’t the one running the offense or making a game saving tackle, but I was a part of the crew that took care of the uniforms and equipment so that others could do those things. I was always happy to be one small cog in that very large machine.

For the past 7 years I’ve worked as an accountant at the U of M doing invoicing and reporting on the federally funded research grants. I’m not the one doing the ground-breaking research, or writing peer-reviewed papers, but the work I do helps others do those things.

I always used to compare myself to Dad and figure that the acorn didn’t fall far from the oak. I guess I’ve also got a lot in common with Mom too, helping others to acheive greatness.

Who knew?

PS I’ve gotten 2 in-person glimpses of greatness in the form of heavyweight champions. Evander Holyfield cut an imposing figure in the concourse of the Metrodome escorted by 8 bodyguards in formation at the opening ceremonies of the Special Olympics. Impressive.
Muhammad Ali, in town for the 1992 Superbowl, emerging from a limousine in the Hyatt parking lot, waving, bowing, and acknowledging a crowd that wasn’t there was both chilling and sad. I nearly cried seeing how Parkinson syndrome had ravaged this once imposing figure.

He is in all things.

Despite being raised by a minister and his wife I’m not a religious man, at least not in the traditional sense. You won’t typically see me in a church pew on Sunday mornings. As a child raised in a parsonage I was expected to be in the congregation for EVERY service that Dad preached (“As long as you live under my roof…”). I do believe I am spiritual though.

By the time I reached age 20 I figured I’d gone to enough services, and learned enough about theology to make my own decisions. I don’t see that as a repudiation of what Dad taught me. I think it validated some of the lessons he taught. As a United Church of Christ minister Dad was a member of a very liberal denomination, open communion, involved with current social issues, and extremely gay-friendly. This acorn DID NOT fall far from the mighty oak.

In one of our talks years ago Dad taught me that religion and theology, in his view, is really a matter to be addressed by individuals and their God directly. I took that as a free pass to form my own relationship with a higher power to be expressed in my own way.

My personal theology is really quite simple.

1. Something created this world with all of its wonders and amazing things. I just don’t have all of the answers regarding this creator.

2. My God can be found in ALL things.

3. The world would be a better place if we all practiced the Golden Rule; Do unto others as you’d have them do to you. Live Christ-like rather than living a ‘Christian’ life.

4. If you don’t agree with my views, no problem, you’ve walked a different road than I have, more power to you, it’s all good.

I read a book recently and came across a mantra from Tibetan Buddhism, “Om Mani Padme Hum”. Evidently this mantra can be a catchall for Buddhists, it refers to the Jewel in the Lotus. It has been interpreted by some to mean, “God is in all things”. I like that, it squares with my views.

I find my God in;

A laugh shared with friends.

A hug from a loved one.

The fiery reds and bright golds of foliage in the Fall.

The awesome beauty that is northern Minnesota.

The artistry displayed on rinks, and fields of play, by novice and accomplished athletes.

Sunrises and sunsets, both literal and figurative that mark the end of each day, the seasons, and life itself.

Now that Dad is rapidly reaching the sunset of his life my brother, sisters and I have been asked to write some of our memories of Dad. True to form, I’m not doing exactly as asked. I prefer to list how I WILL remember Dad. What can I say, I’ve always been the problem child (the only one to make the high school honor society AND get arrested in the same month, but that’s another story and another blog).

So, at the risk of being blasphemous to Tibetan Buddhists I say, “Om Mani DADme Hum”, to me DAD is in all things.

I’ll remember my father when I am out in nature, particularly the north woods and Lake Superior areas. He loved the outdoors but didn’t hunt or fish like a lot of men. He just enjoyed canoeing or hiking and being in the wonder of God’s creation. I get that same sensation on paths while biking and skating. Exercise as a religious experience? How’s that for multi-tasking?

I’ll remember Dad when I see building and construction occurring. Dad built his own home in Ely with a lot of help from Mom, friends and family. He built his own home. Who does that anymore? AMAZING. Additionally, he built homes for other less fortunate people in Mexico with other retired clergy. He helped bring Habitat for Humanity to Minnesota. He helped me with countless building projects on our home. He built in me the belief that NO project is impossible if you really want to get it done.

I’ll remember him whenever I see effective, successful leadership. He built All Nations Indian Church from a simple idea into an actual, tangible entity with a building, a congregation, and a growing history of embracing both Christian AND Native American beliefs. He conceived the idea of this Native American church in Minneapolis. He sold the idea to the conference office. He devised a successful fund-raising plan whereby other UCC congregations could donate money for construction of the building by becoming Friends of All Nations Church. He arranged temporary space for the congregation to worship in while funds were being raised, and even drove a HUGE van around on Sunday mornings picking up church members too poor to afford a car to get to church. I’ve always been most impressed by active, involved leadership. It’s probably because it’s been successful for me, but Dad did it better than anyone I’ve seen.

I’ll remember Dad when I share a laugh, a smirk, or an eye roll with friends and family. No one appreciated the well-timed zinger, or the smart-assed comment more than Dad. He seemed to find a special joy in humor. I find that same trait in my kids and wife. So I’ll think of Dad often when we share laughs amongst ourselves.

I’ll remember Dad whenever I see progressive thought and actions. Senator Edward Kennedy eulogized his brother Robert Fitzgerald Kennedy with the line from George Bernard Shaw, “Some men see things as they are and ask why. Others dream things that never were and ask why not.” I remember Dad living his life as an ‘Other’, consistently asking, ‘Why not?’ In the 60’s he preached of racial equality when that was a radical concept. In the 70’s he spoke out against the Viet Nam war and dishonest government. In the 80’s, far ahead of anyone else, he sought to bridge the digital divide by providing computer access to members of All Nations Indian Church. In the 90’s he pushed for compassion and understanding from politicians and other public figures. In the 2000’s he continued to speak up for the under-represented, the gay, the poor, and those treated unfairly by our society. Dad was a man of this world that appreciated its beauty, but he worked tirelessly for change to make it a better place.

I’ll remember Dad every time I see parents, particularly fathers interacting with their kids. He showed me the awesome responsible of being a suitable role model for your children. Yesterday he paid me the ultimate compliment when he told me, while visiting with guests, that he thought my wife and I did an awesome job raising our two kids into remarkable young adults. Thanks Dad, you keep leaving me speechless these days.

In my view, Dad, like God, is in all things.
The short, fat kid expanding his theology.

Who knew?

TIME PASSAGES…

“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.”

Some of those ‘people’ who enter our lives and change us have four feet with which to leave muddy paw prints. Maybe having that many legs makes it easier for dogs to leave lasting impressions on our souls. Perhaps it is because they are such a constant in our lives when we bring them into our family.

Like so many of life’s mysteries, I’m not sure how it works. I just know that it does.

Sadie joined our family as a puppy in March of 1997. We got her from the local Humane Society after my lovely bride and Junior (a fourth-grader at the time) had visited there looking for the perfect puppy to adopt. On their third trip they found an unnamed puppy that fit the bill.

Our Border Collie German Shepherd mix was mostly black, except for a patch of white on her chest, with all four paws tipped in white as well. There was some discussion on what to name her. The kids favored Shanana. I liked Nike – due to her white ‘shoes’. I think my wife may have come up with the name Sadie that we all agreed on.

We adopted Sadie as an agreement with Junior. The previous fall we had moved to our current home which meant the kids would be attending different schools within the Hopkins school district. As long as we allowed Laura to ride her bike to grandma’s house to catch the bus to the junior high her old classmates were attending she was fine with the move. Jack wasn’t old enough to do that, so he agreed to go to a new school if we would get him a dog. My wife and I are glad he drove that bargain, and even more happy that we agreed to it.

Sadie was a model student finishing at the top of her obedience school class.

Sadie was with us a good long while. Unfortunately we had to put her to sleep on December 30^th, 2011.

By our estimates she was 2 months short of 15 human years. That figures out to just short of 105 dog years. Our veterinarian told us that Sadie was the largest dog he’s cared for that reached that ripe old age. He always had a soft spot for her as his first dog, as a young boy, looked a lot like our Sadie. He treated her with care, compassion, and kindness for the entire time she was a member of our family.

When Sadie joined our family in 1997 gasoline was $1.40 a gallon. Bill Clinton was in his second term as President. I was driving a big old Ford pickup truck and Sadie loved to ride in it, both in the cab (where she’d stick her nose out the rear slider window) and back in the open bed.

The Minnesota Vikings, led by Dennis Green, went 9-7 that year. The Twins, managed by Tom Kelly, went 68-94 and finished 4^th in the American League Central Division. About the most exciting thing happening at the Metrodome that year was that my lovely bride worked there during the day and Sadie loved to go to work with her to explore all of the nooks and crannies of that major league stadium. There were very few people in the stadium when Sadie would visit, but those that did see her enjoyed having her there. She was such a friendly, gentle soul.

In 1997 a month after Sadie became a member of our family the IBM computer Deep Blue became the first computer to beat chess grandmaster Gary Kasparov. By the time Sadie departed computers became so common place that we really would be hard pressed to function without them. I work on one eight hours a day, interact with one going to and from work, and usually have one within reach 24/7.

Sadie was with us when Laura graduated from high school, then college, then grad school, twice. She saw Jack graduate high school and college. I finally got my undergraduate degree too while Sadie was around.

Sadie was with us when extended relatives came to stay with us for periods of time. In sickness and in health, she always made members of our family feel better.

She was the member of the family who was always cheerful when you arrived and looked perplexed whenever you chose to leave.

She was patient and forgiving. I just know she hated it when Laura would put Jack’s t-shirts on her, but I think she was intrigued by how hard it made Laura laugh so she endured the indignity of it all.

She loved being outdoors and knew the value of laying around and chill-axin’.

Sadie loved us unconditionally and just wanted to be with us whenever she could. Whether it was a special occasion like the first day of school or an ordinary weekday evening, she just liked being with the group.

Now we can only try to be the people she thought we were. It’s a pretty high standard. She thought we were about the best things on two legs. We thought the same of her – only with four legs. We thought she was the best dog that ever lived. We were lucky to have her in our family, through so many changes and for such a good long while.

A departed pet inspiring one to be a better person, who knew?