I'd Like to Share a Story

 Gun's Quote:

"No."

-Me

It was 25 years ago today. I remember it like it was yesterday. Even if I couldn't, I wrote it down so I would never forget.

The below is a verbatim copy of what I wrote my Sophomore year of High School. It is unedited:

It was my 8th grade year. I had decided to go out for football again, although I honestly wasn't expecting much. The year before, I didn't play at all, except for on the "B" team special teams.

I had always wanted to be a quarterback. I had always wanted to be the one that got the attention, got the ball first, make daring and terrific passes, and be the leader. In 7th grade, however, I wasn't anywhere close to that. I felt like I did nothing that year, so I had to try out the next. I had always been accused of being a nerd in those years, and wanted more than anything to stare my critics in the face and say, "I told you I could play." Since 7th grade wasn't much of anything, I felt compelled to try again.

The actual way I got to quarterback in 8th grade was more luck than anything was. In 7th grade, there were four quarterbacks; in 8th there were just two left, including myself.

It was on that fateful Wednesday two years ago [1997] that the funeral of Craig Watkins was held. Being such a great man and friend of all of us, many of the players decided that they were going to attend the funeral. We had a game the next day, Thursday, and with people leaving that afternoon for the funeral, it was decided that practice would be held on the morning of Thursday. The other quarterback, who would have started, overslept, and therefore I started the game that day. Shear luck was the only thing that I could think of to describe it.

Then, on top of all of that, he broke his collarbone just a few plays after he went in for me! Since there was only one quarterback left, a backup for me was trained, and I knew that my teammates were depending on me to carry out my role on the team. I never would have wished such a thing upon anyone, and more than ever I felt a sense of having a huge responsibility. I also knew that this was my chance to prove myself. Since his injury prevented him from playing for the rest of the season, I was quarterback for the rest of the year, and loved every single minute of it. 

Although we never did win a game that year, I did gain a new sense of respect from my peers and from myself. After all, I did prove that I could play, although divine intervention probably had more to do with it then [sic] my own skill, which, to be quite honest, wasn't much anyway. I will never forget that year, and the wonderful times that came along with it. To be in that position, and to surprise everyone around you by doing something they never would have expected, are some of the best feelings I have ever had in my life.

That 8th-Grade football game described above, where I started as quarterback, occurred on September 11th, 1997.

Four years later, there was another memorable - albeit infamous - September 11th.

I was the President of the Student Council my Senior year of High School. The Student Council was responsible for coming up with the Homecoming Theme and planning its parade, floats, decorations and other pageantry. By virtue of a research project I had conducted the year prior for my Junior year's English Class, I discovered, quite by accident, that the football field we played on was first dedicated by the local (now defunct) Wesleyan College in 1901. That meant 2001 was the 100th Anniversary of Cameron football. I would share this fact with the Student Council Officers at a retreat prior to the start of my Senior year, and the theme "Celebrate: A Century of Cameron Football" was chosen. Planning began.

Weeks later, on September 11th, 2001, the Twin Towers fell.

In the coming days, the faculty sponsor of the Student Council pulled all of us officers into her classroom. We were asked to change the theme of Homecoming to something more patriotic, celebrating the heroes of our country, including military, police, fire and ambulance.

To this day, I consider the most important decision I have ever made in my entire life to have happened in that room and at that moment. That seems weird to say today, being an adult, a professional, a home-owner, a college graduate and an uncle. I've made many decisions. Some have been very important and very consequential. But the most important decision I have ever made in my entire life happened when I was a Senior in High School, in a classroom with other Seniors who were Officers of the Student Council that year.

"No," I said.

I'll never forget the look of shock on the faces of the people around me. "I will not let this tragedy define our Senior Year."

We discussed. It wasn't much longer until the four of us Officers were unified in our stance. Of course we loved our country, and of course we desired to honor the memory of those innocent lives lost and the heroes who fell trying to protect them. We did so by observing moments of silence, welcoming veterans, and thanking local law enforcement and public defenders during our Homecoming celebration.

But, we had a Celebration: 100 years of Cameron Football, 21 years ago, in the Fall of 2001.

Perhaps it sounds cheesy, cheeky or perhaps even a bit conceited. Perhaps telling this story is self-serving, overly nostalgic or even risks belittling the events and heroes of that fateful day. Of course, I mean none of these things.

What I mean is that September 11th represents a coming-of-age for me. It is a special day; life-defining even. On September 11th, I grew up. Twice. The first time was 25 years ago, when I grew out of the zit-faced, awkward dork that I was and turned into something a bit more confident, a bit stronger and a bit more adult. The second time would be 21 years ago, when I decided my Class would not be defined by an Attack, but that we would honor and embrace our local heroes, inviting them to Celebrate 100 Years of Cameron Football with us. We would honor our country best by not allowing Terrorists to take away our freedom to Celebrate. That made me a leader.

I have withheld this story for some time, feeling awkward about telling it. Rude even. It seems a story about September 11th should be solemn and sorrowful, focusing and honoring people far more worthy than me. Yet, if all stories about September 11th were tragic and sad, then the Terrorists would have won.

Those bastards didn't win. We may very well have been an inconsequential small town and a bunch of teens just trying to make sense out of the shattered world we were thrust into, but we didn't let those bastards win.

"No," I said.

It was the most important decision I have ever made in my entire life.

...And that's why it's a Gun's Quote!!

Humility

 Gun's Quote:

"You fast, but Satan does not eat. You labor fervently, but Satan never sleeps. The only dimension with which you can outperform Satan is by acquiring humility, for Satan has no humility."

-St. Moses the Black (Ethiopian)

I have no idea how much I don't know. The more I think I have learned, the more I learn I have so much to learn.

Take, for instance, this past Lent. I decided I wanted to really challenge myself. Not wanting to lose the momentum gained by the "Motorcycle Journey" I had been writing about over the last several months, I decided to take on a Lenten program called "Lent 40." I suspected - based in part upon that motorcycle journey - that there were other areas in my life in which I had grown too comfortable. In other words, there was room for more growth.

Just after the start of 2022, several friends invited me to join in with them in a program called "Exodus 90," which is the program that "Lent 40" is derived from. I made a "Hard Pass" on Exodus 90; While embarrassing, I must admit that I knew I would grow frustrated and resentful of the ascetical practices that Exodus 90 prescribes. It is a program of discipline and prayer, involving such things as taking cold showers, not watching any type of movies or TV, using the computer and smart phone for only the most essential business activities, (both personal and professional) fasting, etc. It was something I said I couldn't do. I needed a "step" between present-state and Exodus 90, because jumping from present-state to Exodus 90 was too daunting. Lent 40 was the step I chose. 

I used to make fun of people who gave up chocolate for Lent. "Do better than that," I would think to myself. Jesus would endure the most excruciating suffering and death in the most publicly humiliating way possible, and you're just not going to eat candy bars for 6 weeks? Similar sentiment existed in my brain for those wishing to give up certain foods, or who claimed that they were using Lent as a way to diet and lose a few pounds. "Vanity," I thought to myself. This isn't about getting the swimsuit bod ready for the summer.

How arrogant. How prideful. How conceited. Just exactly when, and from whom, did I receive the authority to judge the personal sacrifices of others?

Further, why did I think those sacrifices would be simple or easy?

Saying "no" to all sugar, food and drink alike, was terrible. I have never been so "hangry" in all my life. Not watching TV except in social settings, (permitted in Lent 40) no social media, no YouTube, no video games, no eating between meals, no music, (worship music permitted) no "non-essential" purchases, an hour of prayer a day, 7 hours of sleep a day, exercise at least three times a week and fasting every Wednesday and Friday made me completely re-think the struggles that I have on a daily basis. This was one of the most difficult things I have ever attempted in my life, and at the end of the day, what I gave up was nothing more than comfort. I literally stopped doing the things that the majority of the world doesn't have access to anyway, and it made me grouchy, irritable and just plain mean.

The worst part? I didn't even realize that until the very end.

I thought I was humble. I thought I was virtuous. I thought I was disciplined. I didn't think that I struggled with my own insecurities any longer, which would present themselves as talking down to others, nor did I think I was so privileged that I couldn't recognize or appreciate the struggles of those around me.

I was wrong.

"Old Gun" would conclude this post by beating himself up. That, of course, is false humility. (To say nothing of the fact that I have been unrooting and unraveling the trauma I have caused myself for such self-inflicted wounds over the last several years.) Current Gun concludes that Lent 40 did exactly what it was supposed to do: Find a place where I need to grow.

I didn't think that place was going to be humility. (Let's be honest: I don't want it to be, either) Then again, it would be one year ago that I would start down the Motorcycle Journey, which would be the catalyst for the personal growth and change I needed then, too.

...and that's why it's a Gun's Quote!!

Virtue

 Gun's Quote:

"It can be pretty quick, but it can't be abrupt."

-Nick Ienatsch

Riding a motorcycle has made me more virtuous. I acknowledge that is a bold claim, one that might even sound unvirtuous to some as it might hint at arrogance or superiority. However, I have witnessed virtue grow in my life.

The first motorcycle safety videos I watched often times involved guys (yes, specifically guys... I have yet to see a female rider act this way) get furious at car drivers for cutting them off, merging into their lane, or making them brake hard because a car driver didn't see them at an intersection. Often, the rider would chase down the car driver, flip them off, bust their mirror, honk their horn or "rev bomb" to show the car driver that they screwed up.

If it wasn't a rider getting angry at a driver for making a mistake, it was a rider crashing because they panicked, slammed on the breaks, and skid out.

One of the largest struggles I have had in my mental health journey has been dealing with the unhealthy behavior of overreacting to situations. (You may recall the ANT label called "Maximization.") My family would call this "being dramatic." While that may very well appear to others to be the case, it's much more often a situation in which I allowed myself to be deeply disturbed or upset about something that wasn't worthy of such a reaction. You might also hear this expressed as "Making a mountain out of a mole hill," or being like "Chick Little." ("The Sky is Falling!") At its core, it's all overreacting.

You can't do that on a motorcycle. Physics doesn't allow it.

To break on a motorcycle, you must first "load the tire." This involves "pre-breaking," a technique by which you slowly pull on the front-break lever to apply a small breaking force to the front tire. Very small. Like 1%-5%. This shifts the weight of the bike forward, applying more surface area between the rubber of the tire and the road. This must be done BEFORE you actually need to slow down. Once you have "pre-braked," you can then apply, linearly, a great deal of force to the break and come to a stop very quickly. If, however, you panic or overreact and "jam" on the front brake, there won't be enough rubber contacting the road to generate the friction necessary to decelerate safety. Instead, the front tire will skid, lose traction, and you will surely find yourself down.

Throttle works much the same way. If you hit the gas too hard or rev up the engine and suddenly let out the clutch, you'll fishtail. (No, it's not automatically a "wheelie." Yes, there is a way to hit the throttle hard and pull of a wheelie, but those who do wheelies well will tell you that it very much requires precision and control with the throttle, otherwise you fishtail, flip the bike over or dangerously land and crash due to lack of stability and balance.)

Motorcycling is about being smooth. To break faster or to accelerate faster, you must input your controls smoothly without a sudden jerk or jam of the levers or throttle. In other words, you can't overreact. If you do, you'll lose control and crash.

Oh boy, could I tell you stories about how this applied to life in the last two months.

Perhaps it was the tree falling on my house, requiring a new roof. Perhaps it was getting the new roof and then have it leak the first time it snowed and the snow melted. Perhaps it was the credit card getting stolen or taking the dog to the vet to discover both of his ACLs ruptured due to a degenerative disorder. Perhaps it was yet another sewer back up because of another bad repair that had been done at least twice already. Perhaps it was the untimely death of a co-worker, the chip shortage impacting work or the frustration that the advice and efforts I gave to people weren't taken and I had to watch them deal with the consequences that I fervently wanted to help them avoid.

The last several months have provided substantial opportunity for me to practice applying the breaks, or the throttle, smoothly. Sometimes, I did well. Sometimes, I crashed.

The guys who busted car drivers' mirrors or gave them the bird after getting cut off gained nothing. The guys who slammed on the breaks crashed, often times getting injured. Nothing good happens by allowing rash, angry or knee-jerk reactions to dictate the choices in our lives.

When someone angers me, I have learned to cool off before addressing them. When something changes that I don't like, I've learned to take a deep breath and give myself time to think about what to do next. When something bad happens... well, I'm still working on my reactions to when something bad happens.

It's a work in a progress, a lesson learned but requiring practice. What I do know is this: Nothing good happens from overreacting. Nothing.

...and that's why it's a Gun's Quote!!

My Neighbor, Karen

Gun's Quote:

"It’s taken years, but part of my own personal growth has involved deciding that I can learn something from even the most annoying person."

-Auliq Ice

It was dark outside. I opened the garage door, gear on, bike in Neutral, and gently walked her outside. I carefully went over all of the details of the bike that they teach you in the MSF: Blip the throttle to make sure it isn't stuck, check your brakes, air pressure and lights, etc. Eventually, after spending far too much time looking at my bike and making sure everything was just how it was supposed to be, I finally jumped on it, started it, and went through the friction zone exercises to get used to the clutch and shifting.

This is one of those times I wish I had a Ring doorbell. It would be hilarious to watch myself today; imagine a guy walking around his motorcycle in full gear, twisting knobs, checking tire pressure, and timidly pushing it back and forward trying to figure out how to not fall over. It would have had to have been hilarious.

Eventually, I pulled out of the driveway. I rode down the street to a tee intersection, came to full stop, put both feet down, and waddled her 180° around. Then I rode back up the street to the next intersection and did the exact same thing. Eventually, I stopped waddling and figured out how to do a 180° turn on the Ninja. Of course, I did so in the MSF, but every bike is different, and you do have to get coordinated to it, especially when you are just starting out and trying to figure out your own coordination, too.

After about 30 minutes and three dozen laps up and down the street, practicing throttle control, friction zone, shifting, progressive breaking and U-turns, I notice my neighbor four doors down walk out of her house and approach the street. I got the "Death Stare." Oh boy, here we go...

Karen (Not her real name): Excuse me!

Me: Hello! How are you tonight?

Karen: Is there a reason why you are driving up behind my car?

Me: ...(The car is parked in the street, about 25 feet away from where I'm doing a U-Turn...) Um, no, ma'am, I'm just practicing riding my motorcycle. This is the first time I've ever ridden it and I'm just going up and down the street to practice turning and to get used to it.

Karen: Oh. Well, I've been having problems with people trying to break into my car and my dog has been barking like crazy because he sees you getting close to the car. I'm trying to decide if I need to call the police.

Me: ...Yeah, I'm just turning around up at the end of the street and driving up and down.

Karen: Well, could you please take it to the next block over so that you'll stop scaring the hell out of my dog?

Me: ...I can be done tonight.

Karen: Thank you so much!

Me: Have a good night.

Sharing this story in KC Sportbike Society and with my co-workers generated a fair amount of animosity towards my neighbor. I was reminded that absolutely nothing I did was illegal and that I had every legal right to ride up and down a public street. People volunteered to join me on my street the very next night to ride with me just to spite my neighbor.

I declined the offers.

My friends were right. I did nothing wrong. No laws were broken. I just had a neighbor that was annoyed. I don't know why. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe her car really was broken into. Maybe she was just tired of a yelping dog. Did it really matter?

Social media has presented our society with the ability for every one of us to be "outraged" by our interpretation of our rights being violated. Is that really the case?

To be sure, human history is replete with examples of horrific violations of human rights and the people who are responsible for them. Hitler. Pol Pot. Stalin. My neighbor, Karen, is not one of them.

There is absolutely no rhyme or reason why I should seek any type of retribution against somebody who was concerned about why I was riding up and down the street. I don't have her perspective. Maybe she genuinely was worried that I was checking houses and cars to see if they were locked or unlocked. Maybe she thought I was on drugs. Maybe my bike noise just bothered her too much.

Is it so hard to respect the simple request of another human being? The answer is no. My rights weren't violated, I did nothing wrong; I was asked to stop doing something that was annoying somebody else, regardless of it's legal status. That's it.

To be transparent, I was mad at Karen. I just wanted to practice riding. I was excited. The adrenaline was pumping. However, after looking back, I had the opportunity to practice virtue: Patience, Kindness and Courtesy.

They were some of the first virtues I would start to actively practice by riding a motorcycle.

There would be more.

...And that's why it's a Gun's Quote!!