Passing the Buck or Not?

29 08 2017

President Harry S Truman was famous for many things.  A plain-spoken man.  He made the terribly weighty and controversial decision to drop two nuclear bombs on the Empire of Japan, no doubt hastening the end of World War II.

But he is perhaps best known by a little sign he kept on his desk (see image above).  He was the chief executive officer of the United States and Commander-In-Chief of our armed forces.  He made choices that affected history and lives.

“The buck stops here.”

Buck-passing is currently in vogue now and has been for some time.  But it has never served anyone who has participated in it.  President Truman used this maxim to communicate one thing: I am ultimately responsible. See the picture.

Some time ago, I heard someone say, “The moment in which you grow up is when you take complete responsibility for your life.”

Complete.Responsibility.

I’ve been thinking about this lately, owning up to my position in life.  I’ve done my share of buck-passing, blame-shifting and the like.  What I have found, however, is that as I have embraced full responsibility for my life—where things went bad, where I fell short of some objective, where life ended up being the pits—I feel strangely liberated.  Like a young man who moves out on his own for the first time and assumes the responsibility that had been his parents’.

As a leader, you will grow rapidly as you wrestle with this challenge and not permit yourself to be seduced by the siren song of the culture.  No more will you say “I can’t” about a thing when you know inside that you can.  It will just cost more.  Longer work.  More exercise.  Loss of a friendship because you tell the truth in love.

  • I am responsible for being out of shape. I chose to eat poorly and not exercise.  Now I’m trying to eat better and am exercising and weight training regularly.
  • I am responsible for my career advancement or lack of. I chose to stay in an unfulfilling job when the time came to go.  I chose not to pound the pavement and send out résumés.  I chose not to further my education in one way or another.  I spend my weeks furthering my learning, polishing my skills and gifts.  On my own time.  Without monetary pay.  There’s more than one form of remuneration, after all.
  • I am responsible for inferior relationships. I chose not to cultivate friendships or to repair those that have taken a beating in the rough and tumble of life.  I’ve recently reconnected with old classmates.  It’s an important step.

Challenge:  Take a long and honest look at your life and see if there’s a time you ducked responsibility.  Evaluate it.  And own it.  Then craft a plan to do things differently the next time you are thus challenged. You will feel empowered immediately.

 

Suggested Resources:

Where the Buck Stops: The Personal and Private Writings of Harry S Truman (Harry S & Margaret Truman)

Personal Responsibility: Why It Matters (Alexander Brown)

 

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Declare Your Independence!

4 07 2017

It is the 4th of July.  The sun is out, the weather balmy.  A holiday from work for many of us.  Naturally, our thoughts turn to independence.  Here in the United States, it is Independence Day, when we celebrate the founding of our nation.

The birth of our republic involved a declaration of colonial independence from England and King George III.  Taxation without representation was one of the catalysts.  There were others.  The history is well-known.  No need to recite here.

What does it mean to really be “independent”? (Here we are reminded of Hermie and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer striking out on their own.  “We’re IN-DE-PEND-ENT!”)

Independence might also be called “undependence” or “nondependence.”  The underlying theme is standing on one’s own, not relying on others for certain things, being personally responsible.  In many areas of our lives this is a good and healthy thing, a mark of maturity and emotional stability.  Personal responsibility is not enjoying good press but it’s still the soundest approach to life there is.

Here are some healthy declarations of independence.  You can add your own (please!):

  • I am responsible for my happiness in life or lack of it. I will not blame others if my life is not the one I’d hoped for and want.
  • I am responsible for my choices. After all, I made them.  People and situations may have influenced me, but in almost, if not all, situations where I needed to make a choice, I did not have a gun to my head.
  • I can improve my lot in life. Ultimately, I am not dependent on others.  If I don’t like my job, I can find another.
  • I don’t have to accept the biases of the broadcast and print media, of either the Left or the Right. I can—and must—do my own homework and think for myself.
  • I don’t need to be owned by the zeitgeist, with its irresponsibility and blame-shifting and constant need to be made much of. The story of Echo and Narcissus should be writ large again in our land.  Were that the case, there would, at the least, be way less selfies plastered all over the net.
  • I can handle losing the approval, even of those closest to me, if I’m being true to my values, conscience and identity. Rejection, while unpleasant, is survivable.

Questions:

  • Are you quick to take responsibility for your life—your choices, successes, failures? Or do you blame others (“you made me this way”)?
  • What areas of your life are passive—meaning you’re depending on someone else when you shouldn’t? Where have you been responsible and independent?  If you take charge of your failures, you have the right to take credit for your successes.

Suggested Resources:

The Success Principles: How to Get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be (Jack Canfield)

Man’s Search for Meaning (Viktor E. Frankl)

The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change (Stephen R. Covey)

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A Crime On the Streets of Dallas

21 11 2013

Dealey-Plaza-CarolFifty years ago tomorrow, I was in an Omaha hospital, fighting for my life.  I was born with a gastro-intestinal defect—pyloric stenosis.  My family thought I would die.  I was baptized in the hospital and given extreme unction.

Tomorrow, we remember the murder of the 35th President of these United States.

I was born one month before President John F. Kennedy was murdered.  On the street in this photograph.  Elm Street.  Dealey Plaza.  Dallas.  Most Americans, even if they’ve never been to Texas, have been to Dealey Plaza many times over courtesy of the Zapruder film.

A few years back, my work took me in early June to downtown Dallas.  I stayed in the famous Magnolia Hotel.  It was unseasonably hot, even for Texas.  When I arrived in the afternoon, I determined that I would walk the eight blocks or so to this busy and strangely macabre site where our country was altered forever.

Dealey Plaza is virtually unchanged since that awful November morning 50 years ago.  Perhaps this is by design of Dallas city government and zoning officers.  I felt quiet and a tad eerie as I sat on a bench on the grassy knoll, within the shadow of the old Texas Book Depository building, now housing the Sixth Floor Museum.

It is a small area, this plaza.  On the pavement of Elm Street, there are “X’s” painted in the center of the road.  Two of them.  One for the shot that wounded both the President and Governor John Connelly.  And one for the shot that took from America her Commander-in-Chief.  And her innocence.

The day after my visit to the Plaza, I joined some colleagues for dinner.  We drove through Dealey Plaza, right on Elm Street.

Right over the spot where the 35th President of the United States was assassinated.

It was entirely pragmatic.  We were not tourists.  Elm was the shortest route to get to our restaurant. But it felt wrong.  Like playing soccer in St. Peter’s Basilica.  The area is not sectioned off, bollards guarding the motorcade route against profanation by cars, trucks and buses.  It’s a regular thoroughfare, used every day.  And yet it is sacred.

Life and death take place in the ordinary and the mundane.  This is the rule.  What kinds of normal places have you been to that have been made special by either tragic or heroic events?

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Band of Brothers and Why Vets Deserve More Than A Day

11 11 2013

Band of BrothersThere it sat, under the table beside my reading chair, for about eight months.  Encased in tin, the kind that made up the lunch boxes I carried to school every day when I was a boy.

“You’ve gotta watch this.  It’s fantastic,” my best buddy said as he handed the embossed aluminum case to me, a treasure of his now in my care.  Another good friend raved over it.

For some reason, the impetus to pop one of the DVD’s into my laptop escaped me throughout the Summer.  I wasn’t really interested.  I suppose there is a time and season for all things, including books and video.

Nine days ago, I popped the first of six DVD’s into my laptop.  It was a cool, lazy Saturday.  Why not give these a try?

In ten minutes, I was in.  Hooked.  I had to watch this set.  I told my wife about them and we settled in for a two-day marathon remembering World War II in film.

Band of Brothers is an HBO mini-series, first broadcast in 2001, chronicling the training and combat experience of Easy Company (part of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division) from their training in early 1944 at Camp Toccoa, GA, through the Allied Invasion of France to the end of the War in Europe, 1945.  It is based on the book Band of Brothers by Stephen Ambrose.

It was made under the executive direction of Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg.  With Spielberg at the helm, I knew it would be good.  I was not disappointed.

Early in the first segment, one of the original members of Easy Company recounts how a handful of guys from his hometown committed suicide because, for different reasons, they were barred from enlisting and couldn’t fight for their country.

It was a different time altogether.

Today is Veteran’s Day.  We honor those who fought for freedom; fought against toxic and enslaving ideologies; fought for something greater than themselves.  All sacrificed.  Many paid with their lives.

There are simply not enough days in the year to honor our soldiers.  Do yourself a favor.  No, do yourself two.  Watch Band of Brothers.  Better yet, thank a vet who fought to help you and I enjoy the freedoms we take for granted.

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Educate Yourself On Money

17 10 2013

Know Your Money

“You must walk to the beat of a different drummer. The same beat that the wealthy hear. If the beat sounds normal, evacuate the dance floor immediately! The goal is to not be normal, because as my radio listeners know, normal is broke.” (Dave Ramsey)

Now, more than ever, you owe it to yourself and those you love to do your financial homework.  There are lots of audio and video resources to help you get a handle on your money.  Among them, Dave Ramsey (quoted above).  Scores of people have liquidated their debt and got on their feet by taking his Financial Peace University class. Many others have been helped by the direct and passionate style of Suze Orman.  Here are some things I am reading and learning:

The current debt-ceiling crisis in Washington D. C. highlights the need to be aware of our money—what we have, what we owe, where to get more, etc.

Do yourself a favor and get yourself an education—if you haven’t already done so—on the way money, debt, deficits, markets, lending, borrowing and the like functions.  In this time, more than ever, ignorance is not bliss—it is dangerous.  Be awake.

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Remember….

11 09 2013

Twin Towers“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” (George Santayana)

In memory of all those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001.  And for those who gave their lives trying to save them and fight terrorism around the world.

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Never Forget

28 07 2013

Never ForgetI lived in Southern Lower Michigan until the summer of 1987.  During the 1980’s, I developed an interest in–nay, a love for–all things Jewish.  A portion of this curiosity emerged as I learned Hebrew and studied the Hebrew Bible as a young Christian man.  Part of this affection for Judaica was no doubt because my late stepfather, of blessed memory, was Jewish.  And some of this came organically, as I learned the history of the Second World War and was introduced to people like Elie Wiesel.

I was fascinated and moved.  We lived not far from a very large Jewish community, centered in Southfield, MI, a suburb of Detroit.

A segment of my weekly routine was this: I drove twenty-four miles to the Borders bookstore in Beverly Hills MI every Friday and bought a copy of The Jewish News, a weekly publication highlighting the events and concerns of the Greater Detroit Jewish community, at that time about 80,000 strong.

As my love for all things Jewish grew, I attended Jewish events in the Southfield area.  I well remember a gathering at a local high school with Congressman Sander Levin highlighting the plight of then-Soviet Jewry and their hopes for making aliyah to Israel.  It was Congressman Levin who urged us to read The Abandonment of the Jews by David S. Wyman, detailing our country’s callous refusal to give safe harbor to European Jews during the War.

It was only a matter of time until I made my way to the Jewish Community Center on Maple Road.  The place enthralled me.  As a Christian man, I felt I was connecting with something much larger than I when visiting the campus.  I attended a play there, The Diary of Anne Frank.  I perused the bookstore.  I loved it.

One of the prime features of the JCC at that time was the Holocaust Memorial Center, an adjunct to the larger community building itself. Admission was free and the architecture of the building sloped downward.  It was a fitting metaphor in architecture.  As one descended the darkened walkway of the Memorial, filled with re-creations and actual relics from the Shoah, one descended, as it were, into some history of the horror of the Third Reich and its leader, Adolph Hitler.

It was a numbing experience, to say the least.  I visited there three or four times before it moved to its new and expanded location in nearby Farmington Hills.  I’ve visited the new Memorial twice.  It is much larger than the original HMC and beautiful in a dark sort of way.

What one comes away with after such visits, among other things, is this:  Never underestimate the power of hatred couched in shrewd rhetoric.  Six million Jews perished in World War II because one man was able to convince Europe that the Jewish race was a contagion.

We must never, ever forget.

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