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I can’t help it. I have to plug the book I wrote 16 years ago. I hadn’t read it since 2008 so to pick it up and read it again was an awesome journey back in time and when I cracked open the book I wasn’t sure what I would be in for. Me, sixteen years ago. Was I prepared for that? No, but it was a lot of fun.

I’m writing adult fiction now, but when I wrote Racing the Rope, I was a fifth grade teacher and writing several manuscripts for middle grade children. It was who I was back then, and what I enjoyed writing. Also, I was inspired by watching my kids at recess jumping rope. I was also inspired by the diverse and worldly fifth graders I had that first year at the private Catholic school I was teaching in at the time.

In 2006, POD (print on demand) technology was emergent and I took advantage of it. I had my book edited, published, and I sold it to the very kids who inspired it. I also sold 75 copies to a local school district who had me in during their Jump Rope for Heart fundraiser. So, it was a lot of fun. When I wrote it, I didn’t realize Disney was going to be releasing a movie called Jump In with similar themes, but I took that as that as a good sign.

Anyway, I wrote Racing the Rope with my fifth graders in mind and each was a character in the book. Granted, many of the characters were not portrayed in a flattering light. They were sassy, obnoxious, rude, self-centered, gender-biased, and arrogant. So, when I told my fifth graders to try to figure out which character was them in the book, they sought to discover the truth of how I viewed them that year. When they realized who they were, they lovingly yelled at me and we argued quite a bit. Of course, I exaggerated on their most obvious traits for comedic effect, but they observed my point well. My children and I bonded strongly that year, but they were a challenging group. Eleven years old back then, they are now heading toward their thirtieth year! Holy cow.

Racing the Rope tells the story of a boy, Geran (short for Geranium) who crosses gender boundaries when he joins a female-dominated jump rope competition, much to the chagrin of his “all boy” classmates. Though when they find a good cause to gender unite over jump roping, they bond as a whole class to show their love for a teacher’s sick child.

I am more than happy to say that after revisiting the story, I am enthralled to be revitalizing it and adding it to my future roster of proposed publications. It makes me happy because I had written close to fifteen manuscripts during those years, all of which I lost when the floppy disks containing my projects disappeared. Racing the Rope survived, and so it remains as one of the gems of that time period. At least for me anyway.

Feel free to buy it and check it out. Forgive the awful cover art and have fun with the story! Suitable for children ages ten and up. Written for the age 10-12 market.

https://www.authorhouse.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/260561-Racing-The-Rope

Anyway, I worked for a sub shop company for 6 years of my life. I was aged 16-22. I got fired twice because I was a punk kid who knew everything and I used to jump in the trash, but they loved me so always rehired me. In spite of my transgressions, I was a hard worker. No matter what I was doing, whether it was playing an instrument, running a race, sweeping up trash, or making a sub…I wanted to do it right and excel. (Oddly, this initiative never translated to desiring a 4.0 student ranking in college. That’s another analysis to look forward to) But making a sub! Now that’s fun.

Anyway, while working for the sub shop I was trained in the delicate art of sub-making. A slice of the bread. A spread of lettuce, four tomatoes, a spread of onions, a pre-determined number of meat slices or tuna balls, a pre-determined number of cheese pieces (one strip for American, four provolone, two swiss…wow I still remember), the dressing, the final cut, and BAM! Wrap and load.

Anyway, for efficiency sake, making subs in record time correctly was important to me and the company. Why? Because if you ever waited in a McDonald’s drive thru line pretty much….anywhere…it’s easy to observe that the extra $10 an hour per employee doesn’t buy efficiency. Just more whining. That’s another blog entry too.

It must have been my early knack for offering efficiency in service that drove me to want to be the fastest sub maker in the company. As it turned out, the sub company hosted a huge event at the Marriott, and I qualified for the sub making races. Yahoo! I forget my qualifying time, but I was making a sub in under ten seconds.

First prize was $1000. Second prize was $500.. Third prize was…a golden coke bottle. What? Well, you can guess by the title where I placed, but there is a story for this.

You see, they provided brand new bread knives for the competition. So, on go, I picked up the shiny serrated knife and sliced not only the top of the bread off, but my finger as well, leaving a gash that I temporarily ignored because I was too busy trying to win the race. And guess what…with blood spatter all over the sub and cutting board, I won the first round! Don’t worry, nobody ate the tainted sub.

Anyway, I knew I had to compete in the semi-finalist round so I bandaged up my finger and shoved my extra-long, puffy digit into the glove, and pressed on. Unfortunately, with the bandage hinderance, I was not able to secure my place in the finals. Yet, I did win third place in the company, which earned me the honors of a golden coke bottle along with a couple of stitches.

I still have that coke bottle today (along with a scar on my finger). The bottle and battle scar serve as a reminder that we must never give up. In spite of the blood, sweat, and tears. We must always press on.

*featured picture is not MY coke bottle. I’m abroad so had to act quickly to bind a substitute picture.

Ongoing adventures remind me that from lemons we must make lemonade. In my previous entry I made mention of being left on the side of the road by the taxi driver in Mykonos because I only had cash to pay for half the distance. (You’ll be happy to know I figured out my PIN and now have plenty of cash!).

Today, I was woken from sleep by the hotel manager with a series of bangs on my door. Flashback time. The travel company I booked with (GVV) never provided me tickets for the ferry from Athens to Mykonos, to Santorini, and back to Athens. Keep in mind this was all part of the vacation package. They provided no details of ferry departures, and provided me with no tickets. So, while in Athens, I was woken by telephone to tell me at 6:30 in the morning that someone was there to bring me to the ferry. Since when? There was no time to pack or catch the ride. So she left. I had to make my way by taxi to the port, pay for a ticket that should have been included, and basically make my own way to Mykonos.

In Mykonos, I thought to get ahead of the game by seeing if the hotel had any tickets or any idea when my departure to Santorini was. No idea. I call GVV. No idea. They referred me to Tour Greece. I call Tour Greece and they say sorry and they will send someone with tickets the next day at 9:30. Port departure is at 12:50. Sounds like a plan.

Back to today. The hotel manager bangs on my door at 10:00 a.m. I scurry to the door and he says the 12:50 ferry has been cancelled and I have ten minutes to get to the port to catch the only ferry out for the day. Yes, ten minutes to pack up my hotel, find a taxi, get to the port (a fifteen minute ride), and get on the boat. Apparently I’m the only one that can do math in Mykonos. Of course, nobody ever left tickets at 9:30. Apparently they cancelled all ferries after the early one due to wind.

My only choice…stay in Mykonos. Thankfully, the hotel had the room still available, but I have to pay out of pocket for the night! What’s more, they told me ferries may continue to be cancelled due to wind for the next two days!

As I eluded to in my last blog, nobody cares that I’m stranded. Nobody cares that I had to pay for ferry tickets and hotel rooms that were already paid for.

So, what do I do? Write, relax, sleep, sip coffee and enjoy Mykonos another night…or two…promising that the only complaining I will do is to the travel company to be reimbursed and to my blog audience. Outside of that, life is good! It’s not always good, but when it’s not, power through it.

–Styles

I was never good at team sports and, in fact, always hated them from the beginning. It was my young mind telling me something more sophisticated than I could understand at the time. My feelings weren’t necessarily about the competition because I am a competitor. Nor was it that I was averse to the activity, as I was an extremely active boy.

True, I was never fully aware of the technical aspects of many of the sports I played before age ten, which never helps. In basketball, I tossed a ball in my opponents’ basket. In baseball I struck out every time at bat, and I hardly remember my soccer days. I think I blocked it out.

As I grew older I gravitated more to racquetball and I still play today. What I love about the game, is that it doesn’t require one to be dependent on a team to win. Like tennis, track, swimming, or golf, the sport requires your own effort, skill, and personal endurance to win and if you lose, you have nobody else to blame. In essence, you are competing against yourself as you compete against others. You aren’t some piece of a puzzle. You’re the whole puzzle. I love that about solo sports.

Too much of our cultural practice revolves around trying to outdo someone else, even as a team player. The “best” players on the team make the most money and get the most playing time. The other players on the team are given what they are told they deserve based on comparative measurement. It ultimately conditions “lesser players” to believe their worth is only in comparison to someone else. Henceforth, they stop trying to do better. That’s team etiquette.

In traditional workplaces the key term you always hear is “team player.” Perhaps team sports at an early age is a precursor to prepping kids for traditional job placements where being a “team player” means keeping your job and getting tons of social support. In team sports, it meant sit on the bench the whole time if you are no good, and in the workplace it means acquiesce to the demands of others regardless if you are fulfilling your personal goals or visions.

In looking back, I’m happy that I recognized from an early age that something was a little off for me personally as a young child with regards to team sports and traditional molds, and that I naturally transitioned into solo sports, and left traditional workplaces. Ultimately, I discovered that the the biggest competition is bettering yourself everyday based upon your own interests, merits, and design. I believe life itself is a solo sport, which makes everyday an awesome new challenge to work for and outdo myself, not others.

October 4, 2022