Theory 5: Play a sport, even if you suck at it.

I tape important info inside my kitchen cabinets. Say you are searching for Cheez-Its. When you open the cabinet door, you’ll spot wine labels, an impromptu love note from Tall Child, phone numbers to my favorite restaurants, and, thanks to Delicious’s old 35mm camera, a perfectly captured specimen of supreme athleticism: me, at age nine, hurdling a broom stick balanced between two lawn chairs in my Grandmama’s back yard. The hurdling photo is crucial: it proves that I can be athletic, or least that I was once, well, one day, well, in that moment anyway.

I told Tall Child, who was a great high school and junior college basketball player, about this week’s theory, and asked him, “Did you ever play a sport and fail?”

He said, “No. Why, are you going to write about me in your post?”

I replied, “Well, the post is about NOT being good.”

He said, “Not being good in sports is something I know nothing about.”

True. Tall Child is a natural athlete. He has a fierce tennis serve, he’s an adequate golfer (with practice), he can throw, hit, catch, all that stuff that I can’t do. I have only seen him trip one time. He was playing softball and, as he walked through the grass to take his centerfield spot, he stumbled. He turned angrily and stared down a specific spot on the ground, as if to say, “Who do you think you are, tripping me, dirt clod?”

I am the oldest of ten first cousins, most of whom are above-average, if not collegiate-level athletes. Our grandfather played baseball, golf, and basketball for The University of Georgia. His two sons (my uncles) played basketball for Auburn and The University of Tennessee-Chattanooga. Cousin Roscoe played basketball at Virginia Tech. Cousin A-Boo conquered Vanderbilt University with her golf scholarship.  So, sports and competitiveness are part of our family culture. We all played. It was expected. My Grandmama once remarked, “If you drive through Sevier County with your window rolled down, someone will throw a trophy in your car!”

Yes, we all played. And I sucked.

When my cousins and I were little, the “grown-ups” would set up competitions—for our growth and their entertainment. My aunt Big Booty J (a Phys Ed teacher) typically announced the rules and instructions.  Games included: one-on-one basketball, horse, hurdles, hula-hooping, the long jump, the standing broad jump, and foot races. Well, I stunk it up in everything. I also kicked myself in the rear-end as I ran, on purpose, as a self-esteem-defense tactic. Instead of talking about how I was 20 yards behind my cousins, the grown-ups talked about how I ran. In bad weather, we had dance contests. I’m not a good dancer, but, I watched Soul Train back then. I picked up the hip-swiveling Dirty Dog move, and at least gained applause at a couple of dance contests. The usual winner, G.T., actually had a special outfit for the dance contests: leopard print leotards.

Unfortunately, the forced athleticism didn’t end in our dandelion riddled yards. Delicious signed me up to take gymnastics. My question was this: what is the point of doing a handstand? If you fall, you hit your head. Won’t that hurt? Also, what is the point of a cartwheel? To cover more ground? Maybe. Once, at Dollywood, my cousin P said, “Let’s hold hands and skip all the way to the Flooded Mine Ride so we’ll get there faster.” Maybe he was onto something.

Delicious signed me up for basketball in fourth grade. I had to change clothes in front of other girls, and I was already sprouting the space heaters. I hated sweating and got really annoyed when another girl bumped into me on the basketball court. Once, the coach had me throw the ball inbounds. This was a big moment for me: a moment of responsibility and leadership. I threw the ball to my Pigeon Forge Tiger teammate, and an opposing player batted it back to me. Three times in a row. That year (my only season), I scored one free throw and one regular shot. All time career high: 3 points (game and season).  Does that mean my average was three-tenths of a point per game, if we had ten games? Yay fractions!

Delicious signed me up for the swim team in middle school. I continued swimming a couple of years in high school. I sucked at swimming. The Boobs were an issue, so, like many “blessed” girls, I wore two swimsuits at the same time. I hated that my make-up washed off in the pool and I had to reapply after every event. But, swim team is fun when you have a tent, buddies, a cooler full of Cokes and Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls, and know how to play spades. My love of tailgating was born.

Delicious put me on the Gatlinburg-Pittman track team. I “ran” the 880 and the mile. We practiced by running the craft loop through Glades and Buckhorn Roads in Gatlinburg. My best friends and I paced through the rhododendron lined asphalt path banked by Smoky Mountain potters and painters.  I sucked at track. My coach, also my geography teacher, a.k.a., the King of Kodak, TN, did some quick research and diagnosed me with a medical condition called “slow-twitch muscle fibers.” There had to be a reason I was so sluggish. He nick-named me “Slo-Jo,” playing off the then famous Olympian Flo-Jo.

In individual races, I never, NEVER, beat anyone. In track or in swimming. That’s right: I came in last place in every individual race I ever swam or ran. But, I loved the settings. I loved riding the bus to meets. I loved laughing with my friends and flirting with other girls’ boyfriends. Most of all, I loved what swimming and running did for my appearance. 34-24-34. Good times. Which reminds me, Delicious and Sharky decided to measure themselves recently. Sharky’s measurements: 22-22-22. Delicious’s measurements: 52-52-52. Let’s just say that mine are in proportion to what they were in high school, yet proportionately larger.

Years later, between my banking and teaching careers, I felt compelled to do the expected. Play tennis. Slo-Jo has as much business on the tennis court as she does in the pool or on the track. The tennis skirt is an interesting get-up. What does it say to you? The skirt said to me, “You’d better slim up haus' because I’ve got two layers and big pockets for balls, right at your widest point.” Nothing motivates you to exercise and eat well like a toned, tanned, group of ladies with Levolor blind eyelids checking you out as you and your parts bounce around a tennis court. I told Tall Child, “I think I could be a tennis player if I had a good racquet.”

He responded, “Bug, your level of athleticism is not worthy of that level of investment.” I conceded and wrapped up my tennis season and career with a Wal-Mart racquet and somewhat slimmer physique.

By sucking at sports, I actually grew as a person. First, I am not self-conscious. Look at me all you like. As long as I’m wearing lipstick and a strong bra, I am confident! Second, I can watch basketball, tennis, swimming, and track competitions and be entertained. I am educated in the wide world of sports. Third, I don’t mind working with people who are better than I am in some capacity. I admire success and talent and don’t mind pulling up the rear. Every team has a Flo-Jo and a Slo-Jo. Finally, I am not afraid to step outside the barn and try something abstract or seemingly out of reach. I had the guts to quit a high-paying banking job. I tried to overcome several obstacles to have a baby. Tall Child and I committed to and succeeded in adopting the Roaming Gnome.  In my late-thirties, I made an abrupt career change. This year, I wrote and published a novel.

I asked Tall Child, who now coaches youth basketball and baseball, “As a coach, what’s your attitude toward your worst player, someone like me?”

He said, “I try to give him more attention than the other ones to make him feel like an important part of the team.”

I asked, “What is your advice to that player who is on a team and not one bit of good?”

He said, “Play hard and enjoy the game. Sports keep you from playing video games. They make you interact with other kids. You learn how to work with others. That’s about it.”

In middle school, high school, and college, I did in fact learn how to interact with others and be part of a team—yes, as a terrible athlete, but more so as someone who could say, “I’m with the band.” Which brings me to Theory 6: If you want the ultimate college experience, join the band.

See you next post. Until then, think outside the barn!

Like the wind

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Steps You Can Take to Help Someone You Love Battle Cancer

Theories: Size 12 readers, I am postponing my next blog article, Theory 5: Play a sport, even if you suck at it, to touch on a more serious topic this week. Today, I feature a guest post from my dear friend and co-worker, Sherri McCall.

Each school-day morning, I drive Alcoa Highway from Knoxville to Maryville. To my left I view God’s power and creation in the majestic Smoky Mountain skyline. To my right, I sense high-speed innovation and adventure in McGhee Tyson Airport. In the midst of all that beauty and progress, it seems that pain and tragedy should be impossible. But, both are there. Sherri and I teach ninth grade technology together in scenic Blount County. We are buffered by The Great Smoky Mountains, top-notch co-workers, an All-American student body, and a supportive community. Sherri jokes that we are soul mates. Once, when I came up with an awesome lesson plan that lightened her work load for a few days, she threatened, “I could kiss you right in the mouth!” We are close (not that close) and I love her dearly.  We are kindred sprits: women, mothers, teachers, caregivers, sufferers, friends, thinkers, and laughers—to say the least. But Sherri is something more. She is a cancer survivor.

Friday, June 7, Maryville College will host the Relay for Life of Blount County. The Facebook page to promote the event challenges followers, “The journey to end cancer starts with a single step. Will you walk with us this weekend?” In honor of the Relay for Life of Blount County, cancer patients everywhere, and those who love them, I asked Sherri to write a blog post to help others. But, I gave her odd instructions. Instead of writing to inspire cancer patients, I asked Sherri to write to the friends and family of cancer patients.

How many of you have asked someone suffering, “What can I do to help?” How many concrete answers did you receive? My guess is not many. Most folks are not as direct as Sherri and I are. Regardless, cancer patients need help and are often so consumed with worry they simply can’t answer such a vague question.  When someone you love is battling cancer, you are part of her journey. So, in honor of the Relay for Life, here are a few of Sherri’s simple, honest, specific steps you can take to help someone you love. 

From Sherri:

Despite the fact that every patient reacts differently to a diagnosis and to treatment options, and each has a unique support system, a common thread exists among people who survive cancer.  Cancer survivors are just that: survivors.  They are diligent, resilient, and possess an inner strength like no other. For me, surviving cancer meant that I had to be strong, graceful under adversity, and I had to do much of “it” on my own.  Others wish to help you, but don’t know how.  Some of the steps I list below detail things that others did for me. Some of the steps I list below are things I needed but had to figure out on my own during cancer treatment.  You may take some or all of the following measures, depending on your loved one’s situation:

Step 1: Don’t ask the patient how you can help. She doesn’t know how to answer that question. 

Step 2: Go to the doctor with the patient. Waiting rooms are depressing and full of apprehensive people. Be present. Whether it is radiation or chemotherapy, offer to go and talk to her while she waits. Even go in with her if she will let you. Anything to get her mind off of her immediate worries will help.  Bring her a People magazine to read or a Sudoku puzzle or word find to fill the time in the waiting room. Include sharpened pencils.  Gossip with her about funny things that happened at work.

Step 3: If you go to appointments or chemo treatments, bring a variety of sweet and salty snacks that you know the patient likes. Anything from Snickers bars, Cheez-its, Diet Coke, bottled water. The patient may not have felt like eating breakfast.  Cheez-its may sound good at 9, but a Snickers bar may do just the trick at 10. Cancer treatments vary, as does the patient’s appetite and nausea. It doesn’t really matter what she eats at this point, just make sure she eats something that she wants, that tastes good to her.

Step 4: Keep a journal. Write things down: things the doctor says, questions the patient has, appointment times, and anything else pertinent to the patient or her treatment/care.  Make notes about positive things too.  Trust me; the patient will not remember anything that was said by the time she walks out of that doctor’s office.  “Deer in the headlights” is what you feel like. You need someone to be your advocate/cheerleader/decision-maker/guide.

Step 5: Pick up her kids from school and take them to Sonic for a Cherry Limeade, to basketball practice and back, or to your house for a few hours. Help them finish homework before you take them home. Depending on where the patient is with treatment, she may be too tired to read with her 3^rd grader before bed.  I wouldn’t have cared if a friend or even my ex-husband came to my apartment after school with the kids. If someone had taken charge of dinner, homework, baths, etc. I would have been so appreciative. I wanted to know that they were home and taken care of, but sometimes I didn’t feel well enough to do it myself.

Step 6: Take dinner to the house. Find out what her kids like to eat and fix that.  Make southern “comfort” food: macaroni and cheese, chicken casserole, Jell-O salad (although I HATE Jell-O!  J), or chicken and dumplings, just to name a few. A mother will feel better knowing her kids had dinner, and she just might eat some herself. Make extra to freeze and pull out on days when they don’t feel like cooking. Wash the dishes, and don’t leave items she has to return (casserole pans, Tupperware).

Step 7: Clean her house, do the laundry, load the dishwasher, change the bed sheets.  Anyone who has children likely has a “mess” of some kind in her house at any given time.  Or hire a regular house keeper to come do the big things like vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms, cleaning the oven, and the windows, while the patient is going through treatment. Several friends could go in together to hire someone once a month for six months.

Step 8: Mail a hand-written note to her. Say what you feel, such as “I am praying for you,” “I admire your strength,” or “Hang in there.” Be specific. Be genuine. Include a gift card to a restaurant (especially one that delivers) for nights when she doesn’t feel like cooking.

Step 9: Do something special for her children.  Take them to a movie on Saturday afternoon.  Go to their orchestra concert and take pictures or video if she is too sick to attend.  Pay on her child’s lunch account at his/her school or pack his/her lunch for a week and send it with your child to them at school.

Step 10: Get a key to her house.  Surprise her by putting dinner in the oven, raking leaves or pulling weeds in the flower beds when she is not at home. Again, several friends could pool money to hire a lawn service to visit periodically.

Step 11: Get involved in a charity that benefits cancer research.  My friends trained and ran in “Race for the Cure” in downtown Knoxville while I was undergoing treatment.  They picked me up, took me with them, and took me out to breakfast afterward.  Those pictures are some of my sweetest memories of that time!  That is a great way to honor someone who is fighting for her life.

Friends and family members of cancer patients, these are just a few steps you can take as you stride alongside someone you love as she fights for her health. Cancer patients, let people help you! Friends and family members will ask, “What can I do to help you?"  Answer them in detail. If nothing else, print this list and hand it to them. They love you. Though not to the same degree, they are suffering and they are treading this journey with you. They may need directions.

Sherri, thank you again for being such a strong role model for others, especially those battling cancer. And, thank you for this post. It is sure to help many!

Readers, please comment below if you would like to share other ideas as to how friends and family may help cancer patients.

For more information on the Relay for Life of Blount County, visit https://www.facebook.com/pages/Relay-For-Life-of-Blount-County/128629075809.

Be sure to check back here next Friday for Theory 5: Play a sport, even if you suck at it.

Until then, think outside the barn!