"Phenomenal!" That's my response when people ask how I'm doing. It may sound fake or corny, or for the older folks, a little 'Zig Ziglarish'! But I'm a firm believer that you can talk yourself into a good attitude, especially if you're 'delusional' - another phrase I often use.
Here's a typical 'intro' conversation with my riders as we begin the ride.
"How's your day going?" I ask.
"Okay. How about yours?"
"My day is always good! But, then again, I'm often delusional. All that means is that I only have to convince myself, and I'm easily persuadable. After that, whatever anyone else thinks about me is their problem!"
That usually gets a smile and something like, "All of us are somewhat delusional!"
I love it when a passenger has that same attitude. I picked up Carl on his way to work at a very popular restaurant along the Emerald Coast on the Florida panhandle. I could immediately tell we were kindred souls.
He's a kitchen manager, which I can only imagine has the same stress load as an air traffic controller. We shared stories of life's challenges and how we both believe each day begins with hope.
My rider is a single dad, raising his kids by himself. His wife died of an autoimmune disease six years ago. He clearly understands the importance of providing a positive role model to them. His parents have been married for forty-five years. My parents were married for fifty years when my mother passed away. Marital longevity played an essential part for both of us.
Carl has the perfect demeanor to manage others. I loved that ride!
Sometimes, I get unexpected reactions from riders. Karina was one of those. We talked about one of those 'forbidden' topics as we rode together.
"I'm Catholic, but I don't go to Mass anymore. I'm divorced, and I feel like I'm excommunicated. I know I can't receive Holy Communion."
I encouraged her to talk to a priest about her feelings. I asked her to give the Mass another chance. I began talking about my former career at the Little Sisters of the Poor. When I mentioned the words "Mother Superior" during the conversation, she broke down crying.
She apologized. "It's just that I grew up in Catholic schools, and I have such wonderful memories of the Sisters there. One of my favorite people was the Mother Superior, who was in charge of the other Sisters. She was the kindest person I've ever met. When you said those words my emotions got the best of me."
I hope she talks to a good priest. She's hurting. There are hundreds of people waiting to help her.
And then there was Tanya. I picked her up in Pensacola and took her several miles away to a gas station with an attached food truck. Someone once told her about the great food there, and she had visited it several times.
"I guess you can see it's a little sketchy here," she said as we parked in front of a store decorated with extensive security screens. Sometimes, I just have a desire for this food."
Tanya was living life on her own after her 15-year-old son died from a brain tumor. He was such a great kid, but the growth that attached to his speech organs, as well as other places, took his life. They had such high hopes.
Her other relationships suffered, but she was determined to survive the heartache and make something of her life. She asked me some questions about my writing.
"I want to write my book someday. I think I can help other folks who are going through tough times. I just don't know how to get started."
At the risk of quoting thousands of motivational types, I told her the same thing that has pushed me.
"Just start. Write something, then write a little more."
I gave her my email address and told her to write me if she ever needs help.
Some very famous football coaches emphasize the will to finish as the secret to success. I'm nobody to disagree with them. But, if you don't start your day with the will to succeed and understand the importance of believing you are in a good place, that finish will never come.
God Bless,
Tommy