I Had Breakfast With Teddy Roosevelt
â€œIt is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.â€ â€•Â Theodore Roosevelt
Those of you who read carefully might wonder if there is some sort of gimmick here or what kind of game I am playing because Teddy Roosevelt died when my grandparents were all of five years-old.
You might ask yourself if I am mathematically challenged or if I discovered some sort of way to travel back in time and I would tell you that my math skills are not in question and that I wouldn’t tell you if I had discovered the secret of time travel because that goes against all of the rules of science fiction.
â€œLife means change; where there is no change, death comes.â€
â€• Theodore Roosevelt
Monday was brutal. It was the kind of day that sucks the life out of you and makes you wonder why you bothered to stand up because you knew you were going to get knocked down two or three more times.
It was the kind of day where I kept getting back up because I won’t let my children see dad role over and give up when things get tough, just won’t do it.
Because that is not who we are. It is intolerable and unacceptable, but it didn’t mean that it was any easier.
And then Teddy joined me for breakfast. Dude walked into my place in his hat and made himself at home.
Jack’s Excellent Adventure
I looked around for a phone booth, checked in the closet to see if Bill and Ted were hiding there and didn’t find them. So I said screw it, made myself a cup of coffee, scrambled eggs and listened to a dead president give me a pep talk.
Kind of cool. How many people get to hang out with one of the Rough Riders. Man had me pumped up enough I would have agreed to play for any one of the pro sports teams in Cleveland, and that is saying a lot. If you don’t believe it ask that wacky Shmata Queen.
If nothing else it served as a sort of mentalÂ reset.
I walked away from it and remembered who I am, what I stand for and focused upon hitting the day…hard.
When day is done and the lights go out what I always want to do is fall asleep knowing that no matter what happened I did my best and that when things were hard I didn’t just accept what was handed to me.
Soundtrack For My Life
There is a soundtrack for my life that I have blogged about before and will blog about again. It is like the movies with drama and action, but there is far more happy than sad.
And the reason for that is because I make it that way.