I grew up in a family of five: three boys, a mom, and a dad. I don't know what's typical in other homes, but getting dressed, fed, and out the door each morning was a bit of chore for us. We had two cars and two drivers. During the week we usually had three or four destinations and arrival times. There was a lot of running around the house to get ready. Amazingly, during these week days, we were almost never late. On Saturdays, we often stayed at home but still had things to get done. Similar to our weekday schedule, we seldom were late to whatever tasks or destinations we had those days.

Sunday mornings were a whole other story. Every Sunday we all had one place to be at 11 AM. We needed one car and one driver and we had plenty of time to get ready. Yet, somehow, at least one person was always lagging. Most of the time, it was my mom. I have countless memories of us three boys and my dad sitting in a car with the engine running in the driveway impatiently waiting for my mom. We'd all shout stuff like "Come on, mom!! Hurry up!!" with a nasty impatient tone, even though there was no way she could hear us. My dad would honk the horn a few times and us boys would eventually resort to punching each other to pass the time and to vent our frustrations. Eventually, my mom would rush out the door, still trying to apply that last bit of make-up or attaching that critical peice of jewelry. My dad would pop the clutch into gear just as she shut the car door and she'd have to buckle her seatbelt while also fighting the inertia of the accelerating car. Needless to say, by the time we were all in the car and on our way to church, we were in anything but a good mood.

My 11-year-old son, Josh, is in Little League and his baseball season just started. In his two games so far he has been eager to hit a home run, too eager. In fact, he has three strike outs in four at-bats and his coach had to pull me aside to tell me "Your son won't be hitting any home runs this year and the sooner he gets that in his head, the sooner he'll start getting hits." So, yesterday I took Josh and his little sister to a nearby field to do some hitting. My goal was to get Josh to swing for base hits, not home runs. So I made it a contest. I showed him two $5 bills and told him that he could have both if he could hit two home runs. I then threw him ~50 pitches, most of which he hit. But only one of his hits came within even thirty feet of being a home run. Then I changed the rules. I pointed out where he had been hitting the balls and I gave him a new challenge: Get five consecutive good hits and you'll earn one of the $5 bills. Twenty pitches later, he had earned the money.

A few years back, I was involved in a drawn out court case. I routinely had to visit the courthouse to get paperwork, submit paper work, appear before the judge, etc. The case involved lawyers, dockets, calendars, bailiffs and all the other stuff you might know about court cases. What you may or may not know is that, unlike what you see on television and movies, court trials and hearings and all that, more often than not, are boring at best and frustrating at worst. My case was extremely frustrating for both sides. There was lots of hurry up and wait and a plethora of disappointment.

One day I headed to the courthouse with a stack of about 30 or so papers that I needed to file with the clerk. Having been through the experience a few times before, I braced myself for a 30 to 90 minute wait in a slow moving line surrounded by other equally frustrated people. This is not my ideal way to spend the afternoon. So, even though I was just dropping off papers, I was already very tense and stressed.

Ever kept a secret you shouldn't have? Perhaps it was a secret about something you did or wanted to do that you didn't want others to know about. Perhaps it was something someone else did that you knew was wrong. Often times we are tempted to keep these things hidden deep inside, especially after we have lied about them! Once we lie about something, the truth is locked away like an encrypted launch code for a nuclear rocket. A lot of internal red tape is required to decrypt it. Even when you want to tell the truth, your pride may forbid you from doing so, causing an inner battle.

I recently went to the doctor for a routine cancer checkup, not because I am paranoid or because I currently have cancer, but because it's the wise thing to do when you have battled cancer before like I have. My doctor is what is called a "Doctor of Osteopathy" or simply a "DO". In a nutshell, a DO is a doctor who doesn't just treat the symptoms but instead treats the whole patient. Since my cancer had been in my throat and my throat is now easily agitated, my doctor, once again, asked me about my drinking habits. Specifically, he asked me about my coffee consumption because he knows that I am a coffee addict and because coffee can upset my stomach enough to cause acids to rise into my throat. It doesn't take a DO (or MD or rocket scientist) to figure out that acid probably isn't good for my throat. When I effectively told him that nothing had changed and that I was still consuming multiple cups per day, he went on to give me the same old speech about how I need to change my ways... blah, blah, blah.

I spent a lot of time in swimming pools while growing up, and there seemed to always be other kids my age to play with. During various periods in my life, I made acquaintances with boys who had an affinity for drowning games. It was "fun" to hold the other under water for as long as we could. It wasn't a matter of simply putting weight on the other. No, we actively resisted allowing the other to come to the surface for air. Sometimes the one under the water would struggle hard enough to break free to the surface on his own. Other times, the one above the surface had to forfeit the fight lest the other fill his lungs with water and ultimately die. I don't remember why we played these games or what we thought was fun about them, but I do recall several of the times that I was the one under the water battling for passage to the surface. Air is a precious thing that is so common that we completely take it for granted in our day-to-day lives. When it is withheld from us, though, our desire to get it back becomes our number one priority making all other desires inconsequential. I remember moments underwater when I wasn't sure if I'd ever have air again. In fact, I have inhaled water countless times. In those moments, fear and panic overtook me in ways that I have never experienced in any other circumstances. Death was pounding on my door.

When I was younger, between the ages of 7 and 10, I was fascinated by fire. I think I encountered fire for the first time when my grandmother allowed me to play with her large magnifying glass in the backyard. I am not sure if someone else showed me how to focus the sunlight in such a way as to cause intense heat or if I discovered it by accident, but I was quickly hooked. There was a steady supply of large ants and dry grass in her yard so I had a lot of fun burning things but also managed to avoid causing any significant damage. Over time, I discovered matches, the stove, and fireworks.