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When Dad was a kid, his parents wouldn’t allow him to have guns. But when my brothers and I were growing up, toy guns were “IN”, and we wanted them! We had nearly every kind of toy gun they made. There were muskets like Davy Crockett used, handguns like Marshal Dillon used, bazookas like the Rat Patrol used, secret guns like James Bond used. I even had a “shoot-around-the-corner” gun that shot ping pong balls with the use of a special pivoting mirror sight!

Being a kid in the sixties meant that you were familiar with guns. We all knew guns could kill because all of us know where we were when the announcement was made that President Kennedy had been shot. We saw the pictures over and over that showed us what a gun could, and would, do. If that weren’t enough, we were shown on television every night the latest Vietnam “scoreboard” that actually showed each day how many of “us” died and how many of “them” we killed.

Dad knew, too, that guns were cool to the kids. He watched us play “army” and “cowboys and Indians” as we shot at each other, and occasionally made a “hit.” It was then that the actor in all of us came out and had its chance to show everyone in the family (and any unsuspecting visitors) just how good we could “die.” It must have been troubling to Mother and Dad, to see us shoot at each other and pretend to die. I don’t allow my kids to do that. Maybe it troubled me, too.

At some point, Dad knew we had to understand real guns and know the difference. He was not a big hunter, like some of his friends, but he had a .22 rifle. Dad would take us “plinking” on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. We probably didn’t go more than a few times, but it was very memorable because we got to shoot a real gun! Sometime along the way, someone would inevitably, accidentally, allow the gun to point at another person. That was Dad’s cue. He always noticed and corrected us. He would take the gun, and explain, “You never point a gun at anybody unless you plan to shoot them, and don’t shoot anyone unless you plan to kill them.” Don’t misunderstand me, Dad would never kill anyone, nor would he condone or recommend it. He was making a point. He knew that we would be appalled at the very idea of shooting, much less killing, anyone! This phrase got our attention.

I’m pretty sure that Dad even reminded us a couple of times when we pointed toy guns at him and he wasn’t expecting it. The point was well taken. He would even elaborate by reminding us that guns were made for killing. We had no business carrying a gun around, and doing so suggested that we had plans to kill. It made me very cautious then and now.

I didn’t steal Dad’s phrase, but I think I borrowed his underlying theme. In my family, our response is that the very thought of one of our children having a gun pointed at them, or pointing a gun at someone was horrible. We never wanted that to happen. So… if we point the toy guns often enough in play, we might one day decide that a real gun could be pointed, too. So, in our family, we just don’t do it.

Maybe the problem is that kids today often see blood and guts as something that is generated by Hollywood for the “Jason” or “Terminator” movies, and not a true-to-life experience like losing a President or watching friends go off to war and not seeing them come home.

I’m not sure what it is that makes kids want guns. I guess nobody knows. It’s still a problem and is getting worse. Our local TV news team had a story recently about how easy it is for teens to get guns. They interviewed teenagers who said they needed guns to protect themselves. I wish those teens, and the teens they’re afraid of had a dad like mine.

My three brothers and I managed to provide our parents with ample opportunity to practice the delicate art of discipline. Fighting, screaming, yelling, pinching, hitting, beating, and attacking were our usual ways of displaying our love for each other. It must have nearly killed my parents. However, they seemed to always have something to say, and usually a little something extra for us, like a belt properly aligned with just the right velocity to render our seat unusable for about 10-15 minutes.

Often, in exasperation, we would be accosted for failure to do something that we had been told to do. This provided a rather nasty situation since we hadn’t really done anything wrong, we had just failed to do anything. In a way, this was like the one talent man in the Bible who was afraid and merely hid his talent rather than try to make something of it in trade. When his master returned, he was severely punished and his talent was taken from him. When Dad came in from work and we had failed him, I felt sure at the time that the same fate would be mine.

Once, when Dad came in and found us floundering, he raised his voice (and our fear level) and asked why we hadn’t done our work. We probably responded with some weak excuse like: “We didn’t know what to do!” and then he said the words I’ve never forgotten: “Well, do something, even if it’s wrong!” At the time, I’m sure I jumped and hit the hall running toward whatever it was I was supposed to be doing, but I still remember those words and use them to spur me on whenever I’m tempted to just stand around.

When I took the “Dale Carnegie Course in Public Speaking and Human Relations,” one of the things I was taught was how to get things done. As I recall, one night, during the class, we were taught a chant that we first whispered, then spoke, and finally shouted to get us going. The chant went like this: “I know men in the ranks who are going to stay in the ranks! Why!? I’ll tell you why! Simply because they haven’t the ability to get things done!” Upon further analysis, we discovered that people who get things done, move ahead. Those who move ahead tell us that they make decisions more quickly than those who do not move ahead.

I guess what I’m getting at is this: Making a quick decision usually tends to be more successful than waiting and wondering. We get our best “heart-felt” decisions that way. We are told that our first response is usually our best. So by saying “Do something, even if it’s wrong!”, Dad was telling me that action is better than inaction. Moving on is better than moping around wondering how bad things can get. Making a decision and working toward a goal is better than sitting down and crying about how bad things are.

I’m not sure I got all this from that one sentence from my childhood, but I have been able to build on it and make it work for me. To this day, I still find myself trying to say the same thing to my children. I look for different ways to say it and sometimes try to elaborate, as I’m sure my dad did, but they will probably remember it better if I’ll just stick to the original wizbit.

As a small child, every major occurrence seems like a life-or-death situation. As most children, we had our share of what we thought were horrible times where we felt as if we were being hung by a thread over a chasm deep enough to reach the bowels of the earth. Most of these were simply little inconveniences that we needed to work through.

Some of the things that happened to our family included coming home to find our basement flooded; getting called in the middle of the night to say that our boat had sunk, and numerous reports of accidents and health emergencies involving our extended family. Each time, we, as children, were often scared and confused.

In the depths of this fear and confusion, we would turn to Dad and ask: “What are we going to do?” Dad would reach into his past and calmly reply with a phrase he had heard years before and often repeated: “Just keep on going to Sunday School.” At the time, we neither understood nor appreciated this little bit of wisdom and often asked just what he meant.

In further explanation, Dad would tell us that, for the moment, we often could do nothing more than go on with life and trust God. Regardless of the situation, Dad would always look over the damage, consider the options, and go on with the best choice. I cannot remember Dad ever floundering for more than a few moments. I attribute this to his deep trust in God and an understanding that this life is short and everything here will pass.

For as long as I can remember, we went to Sunday School. Some of my earliest memories include the church we attended in Jonesboro, Arkansas until I was four years old. The special “aroma” of the church building had a savor that I’ve only smelled in other church buildings. I don’t think I remember much about the lessons that were taught during my first four years, but I do remember that I went to class and that the people around me loved me. And although I have not been back to Jonesboro in years, I know of at least one family there that would take me in as a son if I appeared on their doorstep.

Our family continued to go to Sunday School. And I have tried to keep that “tradition” going in my family as well. Because I know that it is through the understanding of God and his will for us that we can make our way through anything.

Often, we look around us and see that we are in dire straits, requiring seemingly impossible accomplishments to make it through. I may sometimes feel like giving up or screaming, or running away from it all. But deep inside, where it counts, I can hear Dad telling me in a whisper: “Just keep on going to Sunday School,” and I know that trusting in God, it will be all right.

Very early on, Dad taught me to work and to try to do a good job in a short amount of time. This led to a tendency to try too hard. Sometimes we would be told to clean up a room or move toys and clothes from one room to another. Often we would get all we could carry in our arms to make as few loads as possible. You’ve probably done the same thing, arms full, something tucked under your arm, holding a stack of things with your chin and trying to walk up or down the stairs at the same time. (Sound familiar?) At one of these times, Dad told me that I shouldn’t try to use a “Lazy Man’s Load.” Of course, I didn’t know what he meant and asked for an explanation.

Dad explained that trying to carry more than you should, even though it looked like you were doing a lot of work, was really the lazy way out because we are trying to avoid extra trips. By carrying more than we should, we take the chance of dropping it all and possibly breaking something in the process. So what looks like a real effort to pitch in, turns out to be an irresponsible act of laziness. I was probably very stubborn about it and I’m sure tried over and over to “shorten” my work with more of these loads. I’m sure I still do it today from time to time. But I have also proven the “Lazy Man’s Load” by dropping some very fragile items that we now miss very much.

There are other areas where we attempt to carry the lazy man’s load. Think about the “jobs” on which you are working. Are you carrying too large a load or too many items? Are you approaching (or passing) the limit of your capabilities, risking dropping the whole load?

Do you find it hard to say “no” when asked to do something else? Are these responsibilities adding up more quickly than your personal computer can count them? You had better watch out, you may be about to drop the ball. When you have too much to do, each thing you are trying to accomplish will begin to suffer. Little by little, you will become so inefficient that you will soon be doing a poor job on all your efforts. You have heard I’m sure, that too many cooks spoil the broth, well, too many broths will spoil a cook, too! You’d be better off to do one thing at a time and do it well than to do many things poorly.

I’d be the first to tell you that there are times when I am lazy. I often just don’t feel like doing one thing or another. However, I try really hard not to take my sincere willingness to do a job and turn it into a lazy man’s load. Dad has taught me that my load is more valuable than that. It includes my wife, my children, and my whole extended family. It also includes my church work, my job, and all my friends. It is a delicate balance, so I’ll try to carry a few of them at a time, then go back for the rest, so I can have them all with me at the end of my journey.

When we were growing up, Mother tried to have a big meal for us every night. Along with bread and a meat item, a variety of vegetables were the regular fare. Occasionally, Mother would prepare a new dish or vegetable that we were not used to eating. Our usual response was to hold our noses and scream our standard line of “Eeeeeeeewwwwww! I don’t want any of that!”

The response we got varied from time to time from phrases like: “You need to clean your plate” to “You don’t have to eat it all, just make sure you try it.” In all these responses, what was always made clear to us was that the food Mother prepared was both tasty and nutritious.

Some nights we got a reprieve when Dad would admit that, as a child, he had not liked certain foods (like beets or squash). We appreciated our understanding ally; but most of the time, there was great “weeping and gnashing of teeth” as we were forced to try unthinkable dishes (well, they were unthinkable to us as kids anyway). Many tears were shed as we had our mouths pried open to try something we just knew we wouldn’t like.

Occasionally, the dish was something we really didn’t like, and maybe still don’t. However, as often as not, it turned out to be a food we absolutely loved. I specifically remember running out of the house one day as Mother prepared a new meal she was just sure I would like. I couldn’t stand the smell of it and threatened to throw up if I were forced to return to the house. How could any parent ask their son to try such a horrible thing?! I couldn’t believe they were asking me to try it! It was pizza. (Need I say more?) Each time we were given the opportunity to try something new, it offered us an opportunity to stretch our understanding of food, and life. One of the phrases we heard at times like this was: “Variety is the spice of life.” Although it meant little to us then, I have come to know more about how important that really is.

If we do the same thing every day, we soon learn to hate our lives. Change is not only a good thing, but it’s also absolutely necessary for us to enjoy our lives. Eating the same thing every day or just getting in a rut with work, home or anything else, will cause us to be malnourished in a different sense. The spice is necessary for us to be able to enjoy the food of life.

Fly catching was never a sport for which I yearned. I like to swat flies, but I have little desire to actually catch them. I have even “hunted” flies with a rubber band and my finger! But this phrase that talks about flies has very little to do with them.

I’m sure you’ve heard that you “catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” I’d like to share Dad’s rendition of it anyway. When Dad first said this I was really confused. We weren’t even talking about flies! We were probably yelling at one another trying to force something out of the other.

After the initial shock, Dad explained how you catch flies. The underlying fact is that you are trying to attract the files, not run them off. Honey attracts flies. Vinegar does not. If anything, vinegar would repel flies rather than attract. After all, what does it do for you? Honey, on the other hand, is very attractive in look, smell, and taste. Flies like it a lot.

When we heard this, we were not trying to catch flies. My three brothers and I did, however, try to catch each other from time to time. And very often, we would try, in our own way, to ‘convince’ each other to do something or to give us something they had. This convincing usually consisted of a lot of screaming, grabbing, hitting and general violence. This was, of course, very soothing to our parents. (What? You don’t believe me?!)

As Dad further explained, we found out that, according to Dad, if we would be nicer, we would be more likely to get what we wanted. This came as quite a shock to us and if we suspected someone of doing this, we would immediately refuse to give in. But since then, we have all found out that Dad was right. Love always prevails. It doesn’t always win, but it always is a winner. You may not get what you want, but you do have a better life. Just the same, the ‘honey’ does get you more than you would get using ‘vinegar’ in almost every situation.

There is a joke about a man who’s pulling a chain down the street. When asked why he is pulling the chain, he replies: “Have you ever tried to PUSH one?” It’s pretty funny, don’t you think? But it is also very real. Pushing people is not very productive. Pulling people is much better. Forcing someone to do something is not satisfying for either party.

The really successful people in life are those who learn how to lead people on to great things. Zig Ziglar, the famous motivational speaker often ends his speeches by saying, “You can have anything you want in life… if you’ll just help enough other people get what they want.” We need to remember that all relationships are give-and-take, not take-then-decide- whether-to-give.

We need to be flycatchers. Dad’s wizbit does it again. Let’s go make things better. Bring on the honey.

Dad was always very busy. He was right up until he died. Early in my life, Dad was a traveling route salesman. Mostly, he would go out for the day, sell along a route and return later that evening. Later, he and my grandfather (along with my mother and grandmother) were building a business and it required long hours and many six-day work weeks. It would be easy at this point to say that Dad didn’t spend any time with us. But it wouldn’t be true.

Dad was really good at finding things to do that were not expensive, yet very memorable. Even with Dad’s busy schedule, he and Mother took time to take us on trips, vacations, Sunday afternoon drives and other outings that we fondly remember.

Sunday drives were often the most memorable. Some of the ones I remember include: driving on old country roads until we crossed a creek, then stopping and pulling off our shoes so we could catch crayfish or tadpoles; hiking through the woods along an old train track to a waterfall and taking pictures as we played in the water; and just driving around until we got hungry and getting to stop at an old country store to get a “setup,” which was really just a soda or a popsicle. He got banana-flavored popsicles if possible! And he always got all of us the same flavor. That way, there were fewer arguments about who got what!

We also took time almost every year for some sort of vacation. These included camping across Tennessee and Alabama; trips with our extended family to the Gulf at Pensacola, Gulf Shores, Dauphin Island, Panama City, and other places; driving through the Smoky Mountains and various other trips. Wherever we went, we discovered things. We were able to do and see things that I’m convinced others weren’t allowed to do. Because Dad knew how to do them. Sometimes, he would get us a pass to see behind the scenes of an amusement park, or, he would drive right past signs that said “No Trespassing!” which would drive us and my mother crazy.

But we would also do spur-of-the-moment things that we’ll never forget. Things like: stopping at a mountain spring on the side of the road and going swimming in it; passing a steam tractor and stopping to find out how it worked as the owner fired it up; stopping our boat in the middle of a mile-wide lake and just jumping in to swim (with God-only-knew-what swimming beneath us!); catching a ride on a tugboat pushing a barge and riding it from one dam to the next, making passage through the lock. These are just a few of the things we got to do because Dad wanted us to experience life.

I hope my children remember things we do with the same enthusiasm and excitement that I have. I guess my brothers and I fought and carried on while Mother and Dad tried to force us to see these wonders, I know my kids do, but that’s not what I remember. I remember Dad taking the time to show us the world.

Most of you have probably heard this one or one very similar to it. I think it’s in some parents/bosses manual somewhere. Dad used to tell it to us, too, and it has stuck with me through a lot of ‘doing.’ “If you don’t have time to do it right, how will you find time to do it TWICE?”

I’m not really sure what I had done the first time I heard Dad say this, but he had plenty of opportunities to say it to my three brothers and me. Dad was really good about letting us learn to do things and tried early to help us develop responsibilities. More often than not, we would try to do the task in what looked like the easiest way for us. Usually, this meant that we were taking a shortcut that left some important step out of the process. Dad would come in, survey the progress, then shake his head and give us the wizbit.

We probably returned to him a look that would seem to say, “Huh? Are you talking to me?” and tried to ignore him. Eventually, he would have us back up, repeat the last two or three processes, and include the right one as well.

The other wizbit that goes right along with this one is: “If something is worth doing… it’s worth doing RIGHT!” Between the two of these, we had no choice! We either had to do it right or suffer the consequences.

As usual, the wisdom of the ages holds true again. Now, when I undertake some repair or building project. I have plenty of opportunities to do things in some “quick and dirty” method, ignoring the correct way to do them. However, I’m finding more and more that I choose the correct way. It probably stems from the fact that I know that somewhere down the road, I’ll be really sorry I did it wrong and have to do it over again, probably replacing all the connecting parts that wore down because of the poor job I did in the first place!

This one certainly applies to life and human nature. Just imagine how delightful it would be if we all did things right the first time! I know, we don’t always know the right thing to do. However, in many situations, we try to “get by” and do the least we can do. Well, someone has to do that job over. Maybe not by you, but any job that is done poorly never lasts and has to be re-done. You may think that you’ve gotten away with it because you didn’t have to personally repair the problem. You’ll probably inherit your share from others who did their job wrong the first time.

A job done well is always appreciated. A job done half-way is rarely appreciated. So, why not go ahead and do the little extra it takes to be appreciated? From my experience, it usually only takes about an extra 10% commitment to do a job right. Not much of a price to pay, is it?

Mother is a real whiz with anything green; she has received many ribbons and awards for her flowers and arrangements. I once took her a plant that I was sure was dead and asked her to keep it for me. During a storm, the whole plant seemed to have been blown away! It was leveled! When I came back later, it had completely revived! I asked her what she did and she said she just watered it.

Dad was an amateur farmer. But he seemed to be really good at growing one thing: Tomatoes. He got it honestly… his dad was a champion tomato grower. They knew all the names and varieties and what grew best here or there. Personally, I hated them, at the time, but was interested in how they grew them. Wherever we lived, Dad made a point of finding a spot to plant his tomatoes.

Over the years, I noticed enough to realize a few things about tomatoes. First of all, LOCATION! Find a sunny spot, dig deep before you plant the starter plants, and most importantly: “If you want juicy tomatoes, you have to give them plenty of water.”

As we moved from one house to another, Dad would engineer different ways to provide water to the tomato plants. At one house, he just watered them every day. The water would seep down into the dry brown earth and often Dad would connect a sprinkler to the hose and let it “rain” on the plants for hours. He would dust them with Ortho and look for bugs, place sticks or fence wire around them to tie the vines with strips of old cloth just to keep the fruit off the ground. He really took good care of them.

We all pitched in. Mother would keep watch and make sure they lived and thrived. We would watch anxiously for the blooms, then the green tomatoes, counting them as they appeared. Finally, the days would come when we could go out and pick the reddest ones for the harvest. Often, we would get over-anxious and Dad would have to line the kitchen window with a row (or two… or three…) of green tomatoes with reddish areas on them to let them ripen in the sunshine that came through the window.

At another house, Dad planted the tomatoes and along the side of them he “planted” some four-inch concrete pipes vertically in the ground. I was interested and confused. Dad explained that by filling up the pipes with water, it could soak down to the roots of the tomatoes without running off down the hill. The water could go right where it needed to be.

Still another house provided the most interesting way to water the tomatoes. We lived on a slough (an inlet) off a large lake on the Tennessee River. Our property had a seawall with a sidewalk across the width of the yard. Dad planted the tomatoes right across the sidewalk from the lake. With a little growth, the tomatoes began to water themselves by having their roots right down at the water level. Since I didn’t eat them at the time, I can’t tell you for sure if they were the juiciest we ever had, but we did have plenty of them.

Now let’s see… how can I twist this into some big lesson for life? Well, it’s not hard to see quite a few parallels here, but I guess the main one is that tomatoes need a lot of water, and Dad was good at finding ways to do that. Otherwise, this one is a freebie.

Dad has been an entrepreneur from the word “go.” A lot of this spirit has been passed on to my brothers and me. From a very early age, I was working at ways to make a few cents here and there. I remember getting a MattelTM Creepy Crawlers maker one Christmas. It was a device that allowed you to pour gobbledygoop into a mold and cook it until it got harder. The result was a rubber bug or worm or other such icky thing. I hid a few in my pocket and took them to school with me to show to my friends.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I found that some of my friends would pay me a nickel or a dime for those bugs! Soon, I was the leading business man in the fourth grade, and my biggest customer was providing me with support for my candy habit. Not surprisingly, the money rarely made it home with me… we passed two convenience stores on the walk home.

Later, in the seventh grade, when I started a new school, I was anxious to make friends and fit in. At this time, monograms were really “in,” whether it was on a sweater, a shirt pocket or your notebook. My parents ran a school supply store as one of their ventures and the store sold stick-on letters. So… I bought a pack and started selling them for 5¢ each. A couple of friends noticed that the whole package of about 200 letters only cost about $1.79 and knew I bought it at wholesale. A little quick math and I was being accused of making 1000%+ profit! I felt terrible.

I went home, almost in tears, feeling so guilty for using my friends. I went to Dad and told him how badly I felt. He smiled, looked at me and said, “Carl, I learned a long time ago that you have to make money off your friends… because your enemies just won’t buy from you.” It made sense at the time and has come to mean even more now.

In preparation for owning my own business, I took courses such as Christian Business Ethics and the Dale Carnegie Course in Human Relations. Both of these and others stress the importance of getting along with others in life and in business. Dad and I later had a computer retail store that I ran. In that business, I learned that making friends with my customers was the best insurance I could have for future business.

I still remember many of my customers, their families, the kind of computer they owned, the software they used, the business they were in, etc. That kind of attention made them feel like my friends who just happened to buy computers and supplies from me rather than customers whom I just happened to know.

As you may be aware, one of the fastest-growing business types in the country is network marketing. It has many faces, but the primary focus for this business is the same: Get your friends to buy from you, then, get their friends to buy from them. It’s a grass-roots process that blossoms rather quickly when it works. Just remember to be friends first, and a salesperson second, or you’ll lose the things that really are important.