mitch-arnold

Looking Past Flying Frauds and Gym Goons

Sun, 19 Apr 2026 16:13:17 GMT

I’ve seen miracles occur at 30,000 feet, and have been told by many Southwest Airlines agents that it’s fairly common to see people use a wheelchair to get on the plane and then walk away with no problem when the plane lands. Though I’ve tried many times, I’ve yet to experience that miracle myself. Perhaps there is another explanation.

Though I try to stay upbeat and positive, and to believe that most people are genuinely good, flying tests that effort. Too often, the people who pre-board with me and jockey for the best seats in the plane upfront don’t really need to be there, and are oblivious to the needs and challenges of those who do. Many are not above exaggerating their limitations, and some are even capable of faking a disability, as long as they are first on and first off the plane.

Once, on a flight to Las Vegas, I saw a young woman make a big fuss about an injured ankle that was haphazardly wrapped and even ask for an extra seat to prop up her leg. It was easy for me to see because she was in the row in front of me, where it would have been much easier for me to get up after the flight. Later that afternoon, I saw her in Bellagio, walking with not even a limp, and I tried to lock eyes with her from my wheelchair. Though I didn’t say a thing, the recognition in her face told me that my message was delivered.

Most people are far more gracious and generous than these flying frauds, but there is enough of the selfish behavior that Southwest noticed, and has tried to address by eliminating open seating. Unfortunately, that makes traveling more difficult for people like me. I still get to pre-board, but I now must stand and shuffle my way to an assigned seat farther toward the back of the plane.

Almost always in our society, a very small percentage of people, like the flying frauds, cause problems that adversely affect everyone else. Unfortunately, their behavior tends to distract us from truly good people. I was reminded of that at the gym the other day.

I typically exercise over the noon hour during the week, and I keep my routine intense but relatively brief. My goal is to do 32 sets of weight-training exercises, over eight different stations, in 32 to 35 minutes. That means that I’m constantly moving, and don’t have time to look at my phone. At that time of day, there are many other professionals also using their lunch hour to exercise, and they follow a similar schedule to maximize results in a compressed period of time, but there are exceptions.

Some people will monopolize a piece of equipment for more than 30 minutes, checking their phones between each set, oblivious to anyone else who might want to use the equipment that they’re on. On this day, a guy that I have confronted in the past about this started on a machine as I was only two sets into my workout. I tried to be cordial and wait my turn, but nearly 30 minutes and 26 sets later, when I was done with all of my other stations, he was still there, looking at his phone. Even when I tried to speed him up by asking how much longer he would be, he didn’t budge.

I left the gym angry that day, though every other person I encountered was smiling and kind. That’s not how I like to live, and I was disappointed in myself for letting negative emotions dominate my thoughts. I let a very minor irritation distract me from all that was good around me, and I focused on something I couldn’t control instead of appreciating all that I could.

There are always going to be people who get under our skin, if we let them. Our job is to look past them and direct our attention to the vast majority of people who are good. It’s a much more peaceful way to live. Unfortunately, we occasionally need flying frauds and gym goons to remind us of that.

Attitude Makes All of the Difference

Sun, 15 Mar 2026 14:12:28 GMT

About six months ago, I received a letter from a clinic telling me that my five years were up, and it was time for me to call to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. Because that procedure and the preparation for it are awfully unpleasant, I didn’t respond to the letter until last week. If you’ve ever experienced a colonoscopy, perhaps you can forgive my procrastination.

After five minutes on hold, I was ready to give up on the call, maybe take it as a sign to buy more time, but Lynda sat near me, looking at me with eyes that said further procrastination would be most unwelcome. At last, a very pleasant voice greeted me on the other end of the line. I joked with her that she was WAY more enthusiastic about the call than I was. She laughed and assured me that she understood my hesitation, but that she was going to make it as easy as possible.

Her job was to field reluctant calls from unenthusiastic patients, and then to ask them questions about their bowel movements. For veterans of the procedure like me, she breezed over the details of the preparation that consists of clearing your system with a barrage of intestinal stimulants, and then ended the call with reassurance that it won’t be that bad, and that having the procedure is the responsible thing to do.

When I hung up the phone, I thought about how the appointment maker’s attitude made the experience better for both of us. Had she matched my level of enthusiasm and negativity, we probably still would have accomplished the required task, but we would have done so in a way that didn’t reflect our humanity.

Then, I thought about how that call was a reminder of how warmth and empathy bring peace to those lucky enough to be around them. The receptionist’s job was to have conversations with people who didn’t want to talk to her and to ask them awkward questions about something as off-putting as their digestive tendencies. That’s certainly a lot to overcome, but she did it like a professional. By the time I hung up the phone, I could feel stress and tension leaving my body.

We have many opportunities to do the same thing – not to ask people uncomfortable questions about bodily functions, but to lighten our tone and use empathy to make others more comfortable and bring peace to the world around us. When we encounter people obviously having a rough day, we should be sensitive to their fragility and treat them as we would want to be treated. Even when the bad day isn’t obvious, a little extra warmth and empathy is worth the effort and usually improves our days too.

I know this, because I’m often blessed to be on the receiving end of these transactions. Because of my obvious disability, most people soften when meeting me. Even those who I see frequently, like people at the gym, go out of their way to be kind and helpful to me. Of course, I reciprocate, and after a while, it’s just the way that we interact with each other.

That’s a good way to live, and the colonoscopy scheduler reminded me of that. Though I had never met her, I could tell that she cared enough about me as a patient to extend the extra effort of humanity. Think about a world where we all do that every time we interact with each other.

People Think We Shouldn’t Be Friends

Sun, 15 Feb 2026 15:29:40 GMT

Most of my closest friendships go back decades, and they are with people who are a lot like me. Because we grew up in similar environments and share similar backgrounds, my friends and I also share fairly consistent perspectives on the world and current issues. If we differ, it’s usually only slightly.

Vernon was a notable exception. Vernon came from a much different background than I, and that made his perspective unique and valuable to me. Despite our differences, we learned over the decades that we had more in common than we could have imagined.

I met Vernon in the late 1990s, when I was working in public relations at a historically black university (HBCU), North Carolina A&T State University. He was 15 years older than me, and a consummate professional, not to mention, a snappy dresser. He was always in a suit, and took his work in research administration very seriously.

Initially, he intimidated me and I amused him. Not many people on campus looked like me. Fewer came from a background like mine. As a white guy who grew up in the rural Midwest and whose previous job was teaching at a Catholic school in Nebraska, I was very much a minority. Additionally, I was a Republican, and there weren’t many of those around either.

I thought of Vernon during the noise surrounding this year’s Super Bowl halftime show. If we still worked down the hallway from each other, one of us surely would have stopped by the other’s office to share perspectives and try to make sense of the controversy. That conversation would have ended, like they all did, with some good-natured humor and a laugh.

Decades have passed since Vernon and I worked together. In that time, I moved back to Nebraska and Vernon eventually retired. Still, we kept in touch with phone calls at least once per year. “It’s your white Republican friend from Nebraska” is how those calls usually started. He would follow by asking me again where Nebraska is, and what I thought of the current political landscape. Though clearly incongruent politically, never did we argue or take up sides against each offer.

Mostly what we learned from each other is that we weren’t all that different and that often what we assumed wasn’t always the case. Vernon was very much a capitalist and more socially conservative than most Republicans, including me. Jokingly, I once accused him of being a Republican, because a lot of what he said didn’t fit my narrative of a Democrat. Likewise, he was surprised when I told him that I wasn’t a fervent supporter of President Trump. “You’re a unique man,” he said. I told him that I really wasn’t. Like most people on both sides, I valued many of the things he did, like strong family values and a strong economy. We just differed on the role that government should play on those issues.

In one particularly poignant exchange, Vernon said, “People would look at us and think that we shouldn’t be friends.” Initially, his comment made me sad; however, I stepped back and thought about it further. In a world that seems intent on separating and categorizing people, it’s important that we remain friends and prioritize our similarities over our differences.

I would have enjoyed a conversation with Vernon about the Super Bowl Halftime Show controversy, and imagine that he would have told me that he didn’t watch either show, but I didn’t get that opportunity. Vernon passed away in his sleep last spring. Even though he’s gone, his voice will never leave me.

When I see efforts to divide our great nation into sides, I’ll always think of Vernon and strive to have friendships like the one I had with him, even when people think that we shouldn’t be friends.

Prioritizing Memories

Sat, 06 Dec 2025 17:20:57 GMT

I lost two uncles in twelve days last month, the second passing away hours after we buried his younger brother. Neither death was particularly surprising, as they were 79 and 84, and struggling with their health. Still, even though we sensed that the end was near, the suddenness with which it occurred was jarring.

Most of don’t spend much time thinking about the end – not just the end of our lives, but of the lives around us – and that’s probably a good thing. What isn’t good is thinking we have unlimited time, and wasting the days we have with each other. Though we shouldn’t dwell in morbidity, we also shouldn’t squander opportunities to make memories with those who are important to us.

Just a few short months ago, Lynda and I made a trip to Ord to see my now deceased uncles . With travel, that effort consumed most of a Saturday, but it was one of the best Saturdays I’ve had in a while. I enjoyed it so much that, as we drove back, I told Lynda that we should plan to do it again next summer. Unfortunately, there won’t be a next trip to see those two. That’s a sad fact, but I’m thankful for the memories we made on that trip, memories that will stick with me for the rest of my life, and I’m thankful that I didn’t put off the trip.

Daily life often gets in the way of living life. We fill our days with have-tos and need-tos, often running at a frenzied pace that clouds the beauty around us, but how much of that do we really have to or need to do? How much will matter when we look back on our years?

Coincidentally, when I returned from the first funeral, my 24-year-old daughter showed me a plastic bag of my childhood memories that she had uncovered while looking for something else. In the bag were things that I had stashed away because they were important to me at that time in my life. A lot of the memorabilia was related to various family vacations we took in the early 1980s. Back then, if you wanted to capture a memory, you could take a picture with an old camera, hope that you got it right and wait until you got the pictures back from a developer or you could buy a 20-cent postcard and grab some free brochures. I did a lot of the latter, and had loaded that bag with brochures and postcards from places like Reptile Gardens and Wall Drug in South Dakota. Also in the bag were trading cards from movies and television programs like Grease, The Dukes of Hazzard and Dallas, and obscure sports cards with no market value. While I enjoyed a few minutes of flipping through stuff I hadn’t seen in decades, it mostly just obscured more meaningful memories.

Among the clutter were autographs I had collected from my sports idols, postcards a friend sent to me with notes from her travels, a letter that another friend wrote to me while undergoing treatment for leukemia and a prayer card from his funeral just a few months later. On the lighter side, I had stashed away a citation awarded to me by a Loup City policeman in recognition of my efforts with an ill-advised fireworks display on the last day of my eighth-grade year! My daughter particularly enjoyed that one.

As I browsed through the contents of the bag, I created three piles on my desk: definitely keep, maybe keep and probably throw away. I also thought about how I would feel if I were to go through the bag in my golden years, which are getting closer every year. If the important things were still obscured by the junk, would I just throw the whole thing away without even looking for those treasures? That motivated me to focus on what will always matter – memories tied to people.

Sadly, I hadn’t visited Ord for years, but last week, I made my third trip of the year there to celebrate my uncle’s life, like I had just a couple of weeks earlier for his younger brother’s funeral. While the last two trips were for somber occasions, I’m glad that I didn’t skip the first one. I had other things to do that Saturday, but nothing more important than making memories with loved ones.

photo above, July 2025:
my dad Harold on the left, his oldest brother Roger (middle), and next oldest brother Don (right)

Growing Through Difficult Times

Sun, 19 Oct 2025 15:06:34 GMT

A couple of Saturdays ago, I found myself smiling and nodding, as my eyes welled up with tears of sadness. I was among friends I hadn’t seen for a long time, and I had a beer and a Philly cheesesteak in front of me, yet I was engrossed in stories of incomprehensible agony and triumph. It was a powerful juxtaposition, the kind you don’t easily forget.

Lynda and I were at a charity event that we attend almost every year. The event is called Glow Gold, and its intent is to raise money for childhood cancer research. It’s one of many events held by Sammy’s Superheroes, an organization founded by one of my former students whose son Sammy is the namesake.

For most of the event, the mood was joyful, with music playing and children running around in bounce houses and having their faces painted, while adults enjoyed conversation, music, and good food and drink. The vibes were so casual that it was easy to forget the purpose behind the event, until the speakers took the stage.

These brave souls are typically parents, and they are there to share their stories of going through a cancer battle with their children. As a parent, and now grandparent, I don’t even want to think about childhood cancer and what these families have experienced. I imagine that the speakers felt the same way, and would rather be sitting in the crowd with me, and not reliving their pain in front of strangers. Yet, there they were.

The first speaker was a young father with several children who only briefly attended the event, as he was busy with his children’s activities that night. He reminded me of myself several years ago, when I was busy with my own young children, except that I didn’t have a four-year-old in a fight for his life, a fight that had already cost him one of his legs.

Next on stage was a mother who had struggled to have children, only to have her two-year-old die in her arms as she sat outside with him on a sunny summer morning. Her description of the experience was so vivid that it was easy to imagine – too easy for an empath like me. While both stories were sad and incredibly heart-wrenching, they were also oddly uplifting. Both parents spoke of how their children inspired them to become better people. They shared how their experiences, though they wished that they hadn’t had them, enhanced their appreciation of life, love and family. They no longer take time for granted, and they’ve learned that the trivial things that challenge us really aren’t that important. They have managed to grow, despite suffering from trauma that few of us will ever experience.

These families are prime examples of something I have recently begun studying, Post-Traumatic Growth. Post Traumatic Growth (PTG) is a theory, developed by psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun, that suggests that not all reactions to trauma are negative. In fact, they conclude that mild to moderate trauma often leads to positive psychological changes, such as stronger resilience, heightened empathy, renewed appreciation for life and more meaningful relationships. PTG epitomizes the human spirit, and seeing that in these parents had me smiling and nodding.

No one wants to experience trauma, yet despite our best efforts to avoid it, trauma can still find us and impart devastating effects, some of which we may never recover from. Still, like these parents who have experienced the unthinkable, we can come out on the other side as better people. PTG gives us hope that this is possible.

Focused on the social aspect of the event, I hadn’t readied myself for the emotional labyrinth that my mind was suddenly navigating while listening to speakers that Saturday night. The smiles and nodding happened, when my thoughts finally caught up with my emotions. Even through the most trying times, we can grow and improve, if we’re receptive to the learning that challenges can provide.

It's Been Years

Sun, 27 Jul 2025 14:41:32 GMT

When I was a kid growing up in Loup City, I went to Ord at least once per month to visit my grandparents and other relatives, and it wasn’t a trip that I was always eager to make. It wasn’t that I disliked seeing my relatives, but there were other things that I would have rather been doing. I sure couldn’t imagine making that trip on my own volition, but that’s exactly what I did a couple of Saturdays ago.

My grandfather has been gone for more than 40 years now, and grandmother, more than 20. I can still remember them vividly, as well as their house and the heaping bowls of fudge and caramel covered ice cream I enjoyed in their kitchen as I listened to Grandpa tell stories between drags on his unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes. Though I resisted those trips as a kid, if given the chance now, I would love to make one more visit, but time has moved on, and all I have are the memories.

I’m a grandpa myself now, and that has given me a new perspective on the fleeting moments that we enjoy with loved ones. Years pass quickly these days, and with each new calendar we pin to the wall, we lose touch with people and places from our past. New people and places come into our lives, and we push aside the past to make room for them. While some of that is necessary and a part of life, I think that it’s also important to stay in touch with our roots.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your uncles?” my wife asked as we began the three-hour trip from Omaha to Ord. “It’s been years,” I replied. We don’t have the family reunions like we used to, and because travel becomes difficult or impossible for older people, we don’t have the opportunities we once had to cross paths with them. If we’re going to see the people and places from our past, we have to make an effort to do so. That’s what I was doing on that Saturday morning.

My hometown of Loup City is only a 30-minute drive from Ord and just slightly off the route between Omaha and Ord, so I also took the opportunity to tour the town I hadn’t seen in more than a year. I drove the sleepy streets I once roamed on my bike. I went past the church I attended through childhood, as well as the home I grew up in and the home where my maternal grandparents lived. I stopped at my grandfather's grave and symbolically shared a beer with him. After lunch at the marina at the lake just outside of town, where I spent many summer afternoons boating with my family, I headed to Ord, driving past my aunt and uncle’s farm that I hadn’t seen in more than a decade.

The Ord visit with my uncles was brief, but more rewarding than I had imagined. The laughter, smiles and stories were so familiar that it was hard to believe that it had been years since we had seen each other. I even bumped into three cousins that I hadn’t seen in years.

As we headed back to Omaha, I thought about those childhood visits that I once resisted and began to appreciate why my parents insisted that we make them. Time is fleeting and waits for no one, but we can’t get so caught up in the present that we forget the past and the people and places that helped shape us into the people we are.

If you have been thinking about the people and places from your past, take that as a sign that you need to visit them. Don’t just wait for the next opportunity, make that opportunity happen. You will be glad that you did.

Surviving a Collision with a Garbage Truck

mitch@preferredpartnersllc.com (Mitch Arnold) — Sun, 29 Jun 2025 14:59:51 GMT

I got hit by a garbage truck the other day, but was able to recover quickly, because it wasn’t the first time it happened, and it won’t be the last.

It’s an unfortunate reality that everyone will occasionally run into a garbage truck through no fault of their own. (see ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck” below)

One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches!

The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, ‘Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!’ This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck.’

He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it! Sometimes they’ll dump it on you. Don’t take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don’t take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.

The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day.

The garbage truck in my latest collision was a prospect who I had never talked to, before picking up the phone and calling him about a position I was helping a client fill. Within seconds of introducing myself, his aggressive tone began to dominate. He demanded that I tell him who my client was and how much they were going to pay. I assured him that I would answer those questions once we determined that his background was a good fit and that he was interested in learning more. Finally, I offered to arrange a call at his convenience, when we could discuss the opportunity further.

We never got to that point. After sending him some information on the opportunity, he repeated his earlier demands, this time through text messaging. In our exchange, I was able to determine that his background wasn’t a fit, so I thanked him for his time and asked if he could confidentially refer anyone. He responded by calling me a “god-awful recruiter.”

I know that I’m a pretty good recruiter, and was fairly certain that he was a miserable person (garbage truck), but I held off on sharing those opinions with him. Instead, I just backed away, recalling “The Law of the Garbage Truck.” I wasn’t going to spend any more mental energy on him than I already had, and I surely wasn’t going to dump his garbage on someone else.

Furthermore, I knew that my faith in humanity would soon be restored when I visited the gym over the lunch hour for my daily workout. Knowing that there are already too many garbage trucks wandering around out there, I try to be just the opposite, and the gym gives me a place to put that effort into practice.

Because I appreciate friendly, positive people, I try to be one myself. I attempt to learn the names of the people I routinely see, like the front desk people, custodian and regular members, and I try to make connections with those who are receptive. And, I try to do that all with a smile, regardless of how I feel, even if I’m still stinging from a garbage truck collision.

Per usual, the gym atmosphere didn’t disappoint. I exchanged pleasantries with people who expect me to be there at the same time almost every day, and enjoyed conversations that completely erased the garbage truck from my memory.

Getting older has taught me that kindness pays dividends, and that even when it can’t save you from garbage truck collisions, it can certainly make them easier to recover from. Take the time to create a refuge of kindness that you can rely on when something like a garbage truck threatens to ruin your day. It’s worth the effort.

Acceptance vs. Resistance

Wed, 28 May 2025 12:23:53 GMT

I bought my first and only motorcycle in 1993. It probably wasn’t a good idea then, and it’s a much worse idea now, but that didn’t stop me from recently considering doing it again.

I was only 23 years old and still in my invincible era, when I strapped on my helmet and rode off on my own two wheels for the first time. Understandably, a few naysayers shook their heads and voiced their opinions about me endangering a body that was already fraught with challenges; however, like I did often back then, I ignored their concerns, and was able to ride with no problems.

To me, the motorcycle represented freedom. I loved being able to enjoy the open road. I even rode it on a thousand-plus mile round-trip journey to Sturgis for the annual motorcycle rally. Getting kind of smug, I began to envision myself as a life-long biker, but two years later, life intervened. I was moving half-way across the country and getting married, so the motorcycle had to go. In fact, I sold it to pay for an engagement ring, promising myself that I would buy another one when I was established and had the finances to do so.

Things didn’t work out the way that I had planned. Fatherhood and home ownership ate up my finances and time, and a second motorcycle kept getting pushed down the line of priorities. Meanwhile, despite my best efforts, my body aged more quickly than I had hoped it would.

For most of my life, my resistance to my physical limitations has enabled me to get the most out of imperfect body. Tell me that I couldn’t do something, and you could bet that I was going to try, if only to prove to myself that I could. That resistance allowed me to overcome significant challenges and to succeed when success didn’t seem likely. Lately though, as my limitations have grown and my sense of self-preservation has become stronger, I’ve been trending toward acceptance.

Both acceptance and resistance are natural responses to change, and change happens to all of us, especially as we age. While resistance can challenge the status quo, sparking innovation and resilience, acceptance often opens the door to growth, fostering a sense of peace and adaptability. That’s where I’m at now, at least most of the time.

Still, when my uncle told me that he was selling his motorcycle, those thoughts of acceptance were elbowed aside by thoughts of resistance. I began to rationalize motorcycle ownership and to imagine myself in the seat again, handlebars in my grip. I could now afford the bike of my dreams, and even had a spot in the garage to park it. I didn’t plan to ride it to Sturgis again, but I thought it would be fun to ride it to the gym and on quiet Sunday mornings, like I used to do.

When I researched parking a motorcycle in a handicapped space, I should have realized the insanity of the idea, but resistance tamped down logic. My wife, to her credit, let me play those scenarios out in my head and gave me room to dream, knowing that logic would eventually prevail. And, it did. One slip-up on a bike, and I would suddenly and dramatically limit what I could do with the rest of my life. Accepting that reality was important, and I’m happy that I was able to do it.

Being able to accept who I am – all of it, even the limitations – has given me peace and perspective. It’s not always easy to accept limitations and new realities, but it’s crucial if we want to live a life without regret, and I’m finally there.

Live – Love – Repeat

Sun, 06 Apr 2025 14:07:34 GMT

I lost a close friend to cancer last month, and though sadness will always linger, it’s overshadowed by the gratitude I have for his friendship. Yes, his early death seemed unfair, unusually cruel and senseless, but his approach to life, especially during the dire situation of his last months, was nothing short of inspiring.

Jamie was only 47, which is about eight years younger than me. He was a husband and father of three young girls who have yet to reach high school. He was also an integral part of a very close and loving family. Because he was one of those guys who made the world a better place everywhere he went, his network of friends was massive.

Always a positive and cheerful person, he became even more so after his stage four cancer diagnosis. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when he called me with that crushing news, on a Sunday afternoon, a little more than six months ago. While I was shocked, he was remarkably upbeat. He said that he felt good, and that he had a plan to attack the cancer. “I’ll be OK,” he reassured me, before hanging up.

Still, I called him the next day. I had to make sure that he was really OK and to reassure myself that I was doing everything I could do as a friend. “Just pray,” he said, when I asked him if there was any way that I could help. He went on to tell me how he had begun to embrace religion, even before his diagnosis, and that a priest was helping him sort out his emotions and stay positive.

Also on his side were all of the people – friends and family alike – who loved him. He said that so many people were praying for him and doing nice things for his family that it was almost overwhelming, but that he appreciated each and every one. He told me that he could feel the effects of all of those prayers, and that it was helping.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to recover, and cancer won, which left many of us sad and searching for answers. My initial emotions were heavy on the frustration and sadness of losing a friend way too early, but the more that I thought about Jamie, the less that I thought about his final battle. Eventually, I focused less on his death and more on his life.

Jamie’s time with us was full of life and love, and cancer shined a huge spotlight on that. Even during that challenging time, he was the same cheerful person who was more interested in the people around him than he was of his own struggles. As we gathered to celebrate his life, there were smiles and laughter among the tears. Because he lived so fully and loved so deeply, we all had happy stories to tell and memories to embrace.

Jamie showed me many things through our years of friendship. First and foremost, he showed me that it’s important to live every day to its fullest. No matter what he was doing, he was doing it with a smile and genuine enthusiasm. He seized every possible opportunity to enjoy life, even during those hard months at the end. Second, he showed me the power of love. He cared deeply about his friends and family, and he not only said it, but he showed it too. That love was reciprocated, especially when the end was near.

Jamie set a standard that we should all aspire to. If we can treat every day as a gift to be treasured, and seize every opportunity to show love to those around us, we can make the world around us a better place, just like Jamie did.

The Importance of Imagining Brighter Days

mitch@preferredpartnersllc.com (Mitch Arnold) — Sun, 02 Mar 2025 15:15:51 GMT

Nebraskans experienced what seemed like an entire winter in two weeks last month. Those, like me, who have been around for decades of Nebraska winters recognize that winter can be much harsher and last a lot longer, but for those two weeks, winter misery prevailed.

Then, it suddenly changed. In just a few days, we went from sub-zero overnight temperatures to temperatures in the sixties. Many areas experienced 70-plus temperature changes from one week to the next. The change was remarkable, and it not only melted the snow and ice, it also quickly erased our memories of the misery we felt just days before.

Life is often like that. We can get so bogged down in difficult times that we can’t even imagine brighter days. Then, when brighter days happen, our memories mercifully tamp out the misery. The challenge is to resist unhappiness and frustration during trying times, and to remind ourselves that brighter days are ahead. It’s an exercise in hope, and one that’s crucial to our happiness, especially when things are not working out the way that we want them to.

Amid the miserable weather of those two weeks, while the snow and ice kept me homebound, I slipped and fell when getting out of the shower. That left me with a diagonal slash across my back, sprained finger and deep bruising on my right hip and foot. Fortunately, no emergency room visit was needed this time, and I was able to continue on with my day and week, albeit much sorer and slower than usual. The worst of the injuries happened to my already weak right side, and resulted in that leg being much tighter than it normally is, which made getting around even more challenging than it already was.

As always, I don’t share these challenges looking for sympathy. Rather, I want to acknowledge the occasional suffering that happens behind the scenes for all of us. Most of us try to put on a brave face and keep our problems behind closed doors, but everyone endures tough times at one time or another. It’s during those times that we need to find hope and optimism, and the best way to find hope and optimism is to focus on brighter days ahead.

Like the weather, our fortunes can quickly change. I focused on that as ice and injury kept me homebound. I’ve been injured before and stuck at home by weather before, but rarely at the same time. In fact, the timing was quite convenient. Since the weather was already keeping me in, I could use that time to heal. Admittedly, those days were not without frustration and sadness, but I fought off those feelings with hope and optimism.

Hope and optimism are almost always more elusive during difficult times, when we need them the most. That’s why we must make a concerted effort to summon them. If we don’t, we risk unnecessarily prolonging misery.

As the weather improved, so did my body, like it had hundreds of times before. Before long, I was back doing the things I normally do, and my confidence level inched forward, as I proved to myself that I could survive another challenge and the brighter days I imagined came to be.

If you are going through a difficult time, remind yourself that tough times never last, and that brighter days are ahead. If you do that enough, it becomes a defense mechanism that you can refine and use each time your days darken.

Take Control of Your Thoughts

Sun, 05 Jan 2025 12:39:01 GMT

Driving to the gym the other day, I caught myself thinking about a former client who inexplicably quit returning my calls. That led me to thinking about a former employee who started a competing business, which led me to thinking about an ex-girlfriend who broke my heart more than 30 years ago. In just a couple of minutes, my mind was swirling with negative thoughts about people who have let me down.

Why?!? What good was any of that doing for me? One small, negative thought had sparked an inferno which threatened to obliterate any positivity lurking in my mind. I had a choice to make – change what I was thinking about or risk ruining my day, or at least part of it. That was obviously a pretty easy choice, but there was a time when it wouldn’t have been. I would have ceded my day to whatever thoughts crossed my mind. That was before I learned about the power of mindfulness.

At its most basic, mindfulness is simply being aware of what you are thinking about in the moment. Mindfulness becomes more advanced when it’s used as part of a mental process to evaluate those thoughts and control them for psychological benefit. It is particularly useful when your mind grabs hold of negative thoughts and refuses to let go.

In my experience, negative thoughts are insidious, opportunistic, and often more aggressive than positive thoughts. They will catch you in a moment of weakness, and quickly amplify before you are even aware of what they are doing. Whereas positive thoughts seem fleeting and easily lost, negative thoughts can be direct, intense and sometimes difficult to shake.

If left uncontrolled, negative thoughts seem to multiply and intensify, like a relentless virus. They will squash your inner peace, kill your enthusiasm and sap your energy.

That’s where mindfulness comes in. You can’t control negative thinking until you become aware of its presence in your mind, and we’re often unaware of it. We might just feel depressed or irritable, and point the finger at external circumstances, when our thoughts are really to blame. When we catch ourselves feeling that way, we should take a minute to consider what’s on our minds and if those thoughts merit the energy we’re devoting to them.

In my case, with the unresponsive client, I had already examined the possible causes of the lack of responsiveness, and had come to peace with the reality that I’ll probably never know the reason. I had also reassured myself that I had done nothing wrong, so why devote any more energy to the situation? The thoughts about the former employee and ex-girlfriend were similar; I had already given them enough of my energy, and thinking about them was going to bring me nothing but negativity.

Now aware that negative thoughts were flooding my mind, I focused on getting rid of them and replacing them with positive thoughts. I looked through my windshield at the unseasonably warm winter weather, and was purposefully grateful for the opportunity to be on my way to the gym for the exercise my body needed. I thought of the good things in my life, like my family and experiences with friends. As I did so, I felt tension that I had been unaware of leave my body. All because of mindfulness.

Consider using mindfulness the next time you feel negativity taking over your mind. Take the time to consider what you are thinking, and, if needed, change it to optimize your day. You will be glad you did.

“Watch your thoughts, they become your words; watch your words, they become your actions; watch your actions, they become your habits; watch your habits, they become your character; watch your character, it becomes your destiny.” ― Lao Tzu

Use It While You Still Have It

Sun, 03 Nov 2024 16:09:50 GMT

I started taking my cane into the gym with me last month. The decision was really a non-brainer, but it’s not one that I took lightly, because I’ve learned that when you let go of an ability, it’s hard to get it back.

The cane goes with me now, because my legs become more fatigued more quickly than they once did, and when that happens, my back and hips seem to seize up. Twice recently, my legs simply refused to move during my regular exercise routine, and I had to ask one of my gym friends to help me walk to a place where I could sit down and regroup. That was humbling, but it seemed like the less humbling option, when compared to the very real possibility of falling on the floor and injuring myself.

I felt this coming on for the past year, and had even adjusted my routine to limit my steps between stations, but I resisted using the cane. Unlike my slow acceptance of a wheelchair, my resistance to the cane wasn’t driven by foolish pride. It’s not like my cane suddenly alerts those around me that I have a handicap; most are amazed that I’m able to walk at all. No, I left my cane in the truck for the past few years, because I knew that when I started using it routinely, I was going to have a difficult time not relying on it.

Many of us think that we’re going to sail through life doing the things that we want in the ways that we have always done them. Few are so lucky. As we age, most of us will experience a progression of lost ability. The losses usually don’t happen overnight, and are sometimes so gradual that we don’t even realize that they are happening. First, we’ll notice increasing difficulty, which leads to grumbling about getting older. Eventually, we’ll enjoy our favorite activities less frequently, until one day when we unceremoniously stop doing them altogether.

Golf was that way for me. I enjoyed nearly twenty years on the course, starting at age 12 with my grandfather and a set of second-hand clubs. A couple of years later, I found myself on the high school varsity team, competing on various Central Nebraska courses. I wasn’t very good, but I enjoyed competing and being on a team with my friends, something that I didn’t have a lot of opportunity to do.

Years later, in a stroke of luck, my unremarkable high school golf experience earned me the opportunity to coach golf at the high school that hired me to teach right out of college. It was then that I embraced the sport and even dreamed of teaching my own children how to golf. That never happened. Instead, my handicap eventually made it nearly impossible to enjoy time on the course. That frustration culminated with me abandoning (half-way through) the last round I would ever play.

It's now been more than twenty years since that final round of golf, but I remember it like it was yesterday. When I put the clubs away that day, I didn’t know that it was the final time. I figured that I would try again next season, and it would be better. Next season never came.

The memory of that experience was with me during my first week in the gym with my cane. It’s a new reality with which I have gradually grown more comfortable. Instead of obsessing about my fading abilities, I can focus on exercising safely while holding on to what I can still do. Though the cane reminds me that things are different, I’m thankful that I’m still able to exercise.

I share this experience not looking for sympathy, but rather hoping that it will help you appreciate what you can do and that you do it to its fullest while you still can. If you’re fortunate enough to still enjoy participating in a sport, don’t stop until you have to. If it has been a while since you have gone on a walk, don’t wait. You don’t know when going for a walk will no longer be an option. The same with travel. Do it now, while you can still enjoy it. Don’t put off the things that require a healthy body, because that can quickly disappear.

Life is precious, and our bodies will eventually make us realize that. Don’t wait for that moment. Take the initiative now to capitalize on all that you can do while you still can do it.

The Futility of Fretting Over Fairness

Sun, 22 Sep 2024 14:33:23 GMT

Recently, I was blessed with the opportunity to discuss the topic of fairness with two older men who have suddenly come face-to-face life’s occasionally unfair nature. Both are in their mid seventies, and each is living a retirement that is not what he prepared for, imagined or seemingly deserved.

Because both had worked hard and saved responsibly for their retirement, money isn’t an issue for them. Similarly, both had been physically active, exercised regularly and applied the same discipline to their bodies as they did to their retirement savings. One had even run several marathons! Unfortunately, those efforts didn’t prevent them from being stricken with neurological disorders that severely impact their mobility and ability to perform simple daily tasks.

Neither did anything to induce their physical struggles. In fact, they did everything they could to enjoy physical health well into their later years; yet, that was taken from them. It’s like obeying the speed limit, but getting a ticket, when everyone else speeds past you. It just isn’t fair.

Fairness is something we all expect, but don’t always get. Sure, a lucky break or two is welcome, but we don’t expect luck. We do expect fairness, and it stings when it is taken from us. Unfortunately, when this happens, there is little that we can do about it.

When both of these guys retired, because their physical abilities far exceeded those of their peers, their initial retirement years went almost exactly like they had planned. They continued to travel, golf and exercise regularly, never envisioning what was about to happen. Why would they? They had sacrificed, and had earned the lifestyle that they were enjoying.

As is my nature, after listening to their struggles, I tried to paint silver linings in the clouds that hung over their heads, and encouraged them to look at the bright side of things. Both told me that they admired how I was able to stay positive in the face of adversity, but that they weren’t there yet. They haven’t yet been able to give up on fairness.

Living with significant physical challenges for more than 50 years has taught me that it’s futile to fret over fairness. Put simply, we don’t get to decide what we deserve. We can live perfect lives, follow all the rules and check off all the boxes of virtue, and bad things can still happen.

What we do get to decide are our attitudes and how we approach our challenges when bad things happen. We also need to realize that the energy that we spend fretting over fairness is better directed toward improving our situations. The US Navy SEALs know this, and incorporate it into their training.

In his New York Times bestseller, “Lone Survivor: The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10,” retired Navy SEAL Marcus Luttrell recounts an experience in his SEAL “Hell Week” when one of the trainers randomly selected a trainee and completely trashed the trainee’s quarters when he was out training. This poor trainee had experienced more than 20 straight hours of grueling physical tests, and another 20-plus hours awaited after a couple of hours of sleep.

Instead of sleep that night, the trainee had to restore order to his room, though its trashed condition was no fault of his own, before inspection in just two short hours. Imagine the injustice he must have felt. A mentally weak person, under such extreme physical and mental exhaustion, and experiencing such extreme injustice, would have lashed out or simply collapsed. A SEAL can’t do that. If someone makes a terrible mistake on a mission or the enemy foils a near-perfect plan, a SEAL can’t spend time and mental resources being angry at the injustice and feeling sorry for himself. Doing so would get him, and likely others, killed.

Likewise, when things are tough for us, and we are angry because fairness has turned its back on us, we need to summon whatever mental toughness we have in order to resist the urge to feel sorry for ourselves. Only when we quit fretting over fairness can we focus on improving our situations.

Take the Backroads Home

Tue, 27 Aug 2024 23:28:57 GMT

There are 438 miles between Scottsbluff, NE and my house, and that number doesn’t change whether you take the interstate or a much more rural route on two-lane highways. My navigation system also told me that I would add approximately 47 minutes to my trip, if I stayed off the interstate, so I had a choice to make.

Like most, I find rural travel much less stressful than interstate driving. Additionally, I knew that we would enjoy some beautiful scenery if we took the backroads home. Still, facing approximately seven hours behind the wheel on a Sunday, especially after not sleeping particularly well on Friday and Saturday, was daunting, and it was tempting to shorten the trip by sticking to the interstate.

We often miss out on life’s simple pleasures, when we rush from one point to another. We speed through meal preparation to minimize our time in the kitchen, costing ourselves a chance to enjoy healthy creative cuisine. We rush through conversations with family and friends, prioritizing function over depth. We aimlessly scroll through our phones, forsaking the opportunity for quiet thought.

When we subjugate where we’re at and what’s around us for the expediency of what’s next, we introduce unnecessary stress into our lives. That stress not only has harmful physical effects, it also blinds us to opportunities to savor the moment. Now in my mid-50s, I am much more aware of how the small choices I make in life affect the stress that I feel in life and how that affects those around me. Plus, I want to take a little extra time to savor life’s fleeting moments.

Over the years, I’ve learned that time will pass, regardless of our efforts to control it. It’s up to us to use that time in a way that leaves us fulfilled and allows us to be at our best. To that point, it had been 13 years since I had been on those backroads. A little quick math told me that I was 41 back then, and if I wait another 13 years, I’ll be 67 before I touched Highway 2 in Nebraska’s Panhandle.

Conversely, it’s hard to even imagine the number of hours I have spent driving on the interstate. In fact, I’ve spent more than 40 hours on interstates on three separate trips out west in just the past two months. While I’m thankful that I can cover 500 or more miles in just one day of driving, it seemed like it was time to actually enjoy some of those hours, so I steered onto Highway 26 and headed east to meet up with Highway 2. Had I chosen the interstate, I would have been surrounded by other vehicles for most of the trip. On this trip, however, there were times that I went 15 to 20 minutes without seeing another car. Rather than speeding down the interstate with white knuckles, while grumbling about orange construction cones and slow drivers in the fast lane, I felt like I was sitting in my recliner enjoying the scenery around me.

Ironically, we left Scottsbluff in dense fog, so we didn’t see any of the amazing natural formations just east of town, and then it rained. In fact, it rained for much of the first three hours of the trip, and then intermittently as we neared Omaha. Obviously, that wasn’t how I imagined the trip would go. However, even those less-than-ideal conditions didn’t rattle my inner peace.

Because the two-lane highway required less attention and evoked far less agitation than the interstate, I was able to enjoy deep conversations with my wife and adult son, who were along for the ride. Whereas I typically count down miles and minutes on a long interstate drive, I finished the trip relaxed and even took a short side trip through a neighborhood that my son had recently discovered and wanted to show me.

When the pace of your life seems harried, and you feel stress creeping in, step back for a minute and consider how you can improve all of that with a simple change or two. While it’s not always possible to choose the less stressful option, when it is, you should always take the backroads home.

Words Matter

Wed, 17 Jul 2024 12:49:43 GMT

My five-year-old granddaughter knows the power of words, and she knows that it’s not polite to call other people names or to use her words to taunt them. She knows words can be hurtful and that, if misused, they can contribute to a hostile environment. Her convictions are so strong that she is an eager enforcer of niceness. If I slip up and say something as benign as “stupid,” she is quick to point out that “stupid isn’t a nice word.”

We all knew these things at some point. It’s Kindergarten 101 or in my granddaughter’s case, pre-school 101. Unfortunately, we tend to forget the basics, and we ignore the importance of being nice, as the outside world numbs us with vitriol.

The eye-opening and sobering assassination attempt on Donald Trump is an unfortunate byproduct of an increasingly hostile environment that we’ve come to accept as normal, and it should awaken those early childhood lessons.

It’s so easy to spit ugliness into the world that we often do it without thinking. It’s much more difficult to temper our emotions and be mindful of what type of energy we share. I know, because I’ve struggled with that myself.

Several years ago, when my business was struggling and I was upset with the policy decisions of our nation’s leadership, I took it upon myself to actively criticize everything I thought was wrong with the world, and social media gave me a platform to do so. If I saw a meme that captured my anger, I was quick to share it. If someone offered a viewpoint that I disagreed with, I went on the attack, even if I didn’t know them. As if there weren’t enough of them already, I even started a Facebook page on which I posted one-sided political messages daily.

While I might have felt some vindication with each post, I accomplished very little else with my efforts. I did manage to get myself unfriended by some and probably muted by others, while I doubt that I affected the friends who shared my political beliefs. Looking back, it all seemed an exercise in futility that contributed very little to constructive dialogue.

Thoughtful and balanced political commentary has its place, but the emphasis must be on thoughtful and balanced. If the message is I am right and you are wrong or even worse, my views are beyond reproach and you’re stupid for thinking the way that you do, there is no thought or balance involved, only divisiveness. As we saw with what happened to Trump in Pennsylvania, divisiveness is already a huge problem, and doesn’t need any help in growing.

Now, when I feel the urge to share my frustrations or vent my anger, I think about what kind of energy I’m contributing to the world. Is what I’m about to say going to brighten anyone’s day or encourage them to see the world in a better way or is it going to fan flames that are already raging? Am I considering perspectives that might differ from mine or am I asserting myself as infallible? Would I want someone with a different viewpoint stoking my anger with an unthoughtful and unbalanced message from the other side?

There is already plenty of negativity in the world, and that doesn’t benefit anyone, regardless of their political opinions. It seems to me that we would all be better off if we reverted to those timeless lessons we learned in early childhood, and remind ourselves that if what we’re about to say isn’t nice, maybe we shouldn’t say it at all.

Don’t Dwell on Limitations

Mon, 17 Jun 2024 12:32:48 GMT

Throughout my childhood, because I grew up in the same small town that my parents and grandparents had lived in for decades, I knew almost everyone I saw, everywhere I went. Even most of those I didn’t know knew me. Because the town was rural, and my family did almost everything within its borders, I could go weeks without seeing a stranger. That insulated environment was particularly comforting for a kid whose body never worked quite right.

I could walk the halls at my school or the city streets, and no one stopped and stared. Everyone knew that I was “the kid with the bad wheel,” and because I didn’t let my handicap limit me, they treated me no differently than any other kid in town. Back then, I could almost completely forget that I had a handicap. Now, I can’t.

Readers of this blog know that my handicap has aged my body beyond its 54 years. On unfamiliar terrain, I use a cane when walking short distances. For longer distances or in environments where I fear a fall, I use a wheelchair. Now, even among friends and family, my handicap is something I must acknowledge.

When dealing with a handicap or any other personal weakness, there is a fine line between acknowledging the challenge and dwelling on it. Ironically, that was on my mind when I recently visited Loup City to do a couple of signings for my book, Marginal .

Though it’s been almost forty years, I was once a fixture on main street Loup City. I worked in the town’s only pharmacy, and shopped and socialized in other establishments up and down the street. Back then, because I was surrounded by familiarity, I rarely even thought about my handicap. On my recent visit, though I was still surrounded by that familiarity, I was a little self-conscious about the changes in my mobility.

Because my visit coincided with the town’s annual festival, there were more people than normal on main street. In that crowd were many of the people who hadn’t seen me in decades, and who remembered me when I walked without any assistance on any type of terrain. Though everyone was extremely kind, I could see surprised reactions as I rolled past in a wheelchair.

When I saw those looks, I felt compelled to explain that the wheelchair isn’t an everyday thing – that I still go to the gym and move around my house without any assistance – but doing so felt defensive. Besides, it really wasn’t necessary. The wheelchair doesn’t define me, any more than the cane or my wobbly gait does, and most people know this.

One thing that I’ve learned over my years is that most people are more kind and understanding than we give them credit for. While we might occasionally dwell on our imperfections, the people we meet often look past them, which makes dwelling on them a huge waste of our energy.

No one is perfect, and everyone knows this. Remember that when you’re feeling self-conscious about your imperfections, and you’ll be much happier and self-assured.

Compassion Awakened by Tornadoes

Tue, 14 May 2024 23:24:06 GMT

Midwesterners are aware of the devastating potential of tornadoes, but we don’t live our lives with one eye on the sky. In fact, we don’t worry too much at all about them, even when the weather is favorable for their appearance. When they happen, however, they remind us of our vulnerability. My recent experience also reminded me of the importance of compassion.

The forecast three Fridays ago told us that tornadoes could emerge from the strong storms forecast to begin in my area in the mid- to late-afternoon. That’s not uncommon around here for this time of year, so I made a mental note of the threat and went on with my day. I was working from my home office when the first alert appeared on my phone at about 3 pm. I could see clouds to the south and west, but nothing appeared ominous. Then, the siren sounded.

We hear sirens two or three times every year. Usually, that means that a tornado warning has been issued for the county, but it doesn’t always mean that there is a storm in our part of the county. Normally, I explain that to my wife, while she argues with me to hide in the basement. Lynda was at work 30 miles away, so I didn’t have that argument. Instead, I turned on the television and saw that the storm could possibly be headed in my direction, though there hadn’t been a visual confirmation of a tornado. Ironically, the sirens then stopped, so I went out on my patio to get a closer look at the clouds. The clouds didn’t look any worse than they had a few minutes earlier. In fact, I saw golfers on the tee box, continuing their rounds.

When the sirens sounded a second time, just a few minutes later, I decided to pay closer attention to the television. I was steps away from the safe room in my basement, and my cell phone was in my pocket, in case I needed to scurry away to safety. Instead, I saw live footage of a massive tornado on the ground about five miles to the northwest and heading away from me. Since my house and I were safe, at least for the moment, my thoughts drifted to friends and family in the path of the storm.

It's amazing how quickly the human spirit can leave self-absorption and find compassion, when a threat is removed. Minutes earlier, I was preoccupied with thoughts of what I would do if my home was severely damaged or destroyed. Now, I was thinking of others facing that same threat. That realization made me think of how many of us, myself included, live that way every day. We get so consumed with everything that’s going in our lives that we often forget to consider others. That’s not an indictment of character; it’s simply the human condition.

The challenge is to be compassionate while still attending to our needs, and it’s a challenge I face almost every time I board a flight. Moving around in the tight quarters of an airplane is difficult for me, as is getting in and out of those seats. Plus, going down the taxiway takes me longer, so I pre-board whenever possible. Typically, there are three to as many as ten of us doing the same thing – all of us hoping for an uneventful boarding and convenient seatings. As I wait with this group, I survey the competition, trying to determine who needs the front row seats more than I do. When I board, I try to leave the best seats for those who appear to need them the most. That’s obviously an inexact science, and I’ve missed before, but I try to balance compassion with my own needs.

I need to get better doing the same thing away from the airport, and my experience with the tornado reminded me of that. Apparently, a lot of people had a similar awakening, as volunteers almost overwhelmed the coordinators responding to the storm. Driven by compassion awakened by the tornadoes, strangers from all over showed up for the unpleasant work of cleaning up from a storm, and they continued for weeks afterward. While it’s affirming that compassion is so abundant within us, let’s not wait for a tornado to share it.

Craft Perspective to Achieve Inner Peace

Sat, 20 Apr 2024 16:36:51 GMT

The winner of the 2024 Masters golf tournament, Scottie Scheffler, is dominating professional golf in a way not seen since Tiger Woods’ peak years. Including the Masters, he has won three of the last four tournaments, and has been 100 strokes better than the world’s second-ranked golfer over the last two years. What he said after his most recent win revealed his not-so-guarded secret.

"Because, like I said, winning this golf tournament does not change my identity. My identity is secure, and I cannot emphasize that enough." He continued, “"I believe that today's plans were already laid out many years ago, and I could do nothing to mess up those plans. I have been given a gift of this talent, and I use it for God's glory. That's pretty much it."

That strong sense of self was critical to his success, especially when he temporarily lost the lead in the first few holes on the tournament’s final day. Many of the world’s top golfers have collapsed when entering the final round of the Masters with the lead, the pressure and fear of losing throwing them off just enough to allow the elite competition behind them to surge ahead. That didn’t happen to Scheffler, because he had crafted his perspective to find inner peace.

Imagine if we approached life’s challenges with a similar mindset – “. . . today's plans were already laid out many years ago, and I could do nothing to mess up those plans.” Easier said than done, I know, but it’s worth trying.

Despite being more than 25 years his senior, I’m still working on achieving the constant inner peace that Scottie Scheffler seems to have, and I suspect that I’m not alone. We forget that we don’t control as much as we think we do or might want to control, and we let minor challenges derail our perspectives. We can avoid all of that if we carefully craft our perspectives.

The first step to doing that is to trust yourself, and the first step to trusting yourself is to prepare yourself for success. Scheffler didn’t just show up at Augusta and start swinging a club. He had spent thousands of hours over his 27 years preparing for big moments like the final round of the Masters. He knows that he has done everything he can to be as good as he possibly can. When he temporarily lost the lead, he knew that all he needed to do was trust himself and his preparation.

The second step to building a carefully crafted perspective is to accept that you can’t control everything. Scheffler knew that the accuracy of his shots would be affected by elements beyond his control, like wind gusts and bad bounces. He also knew that his fellow competitors were extremely talented, and had worked hard to put themselves in contention to win the tournament. Any one of them was capable of playing the round of their lives and overtaking him. He couldn’t control that.

The final and probably most important step in building a carefully crafted perspective is to have faith that a higher power is orchestrating everything for an ideal outcome that we might not understand, but will have to accept. Having faith like that frees us from the fear of failure. If failure happens, it doesn’t change who we are.

Scottie Scheffler showed us how to succeed by remaining calm under enormous pressure. If we want to have success and find inner peace in our own lives, it’s up to us to craft our perspectives in a similar way. If we do that, there’s no way we can lose.

Good People in Disguise

Sat, 16 Mar 2024 15:42:00 GMT

I was almost finished with my workout the other day, when a gym newbie took over the last piece of equipment I needed. I had seen this guy a couple of times earlier in the week, and completely misjudged his character. The encounter that ensued had me walking away, sheepishly ashamed of my judgement and reinvigorated by a random act of kindness.

One of the blessings I enjoy from my handicap is being the beneficiary of random acts of kindness. There are exceptions, of course, but for the most part, my handicap brings out the best in people, even people I’ve never met. Strangers open doors for me and go out of their way to greet me. Restaurant managers often stop by my table, just to see how I’m doing. A lady in church routinely brings me communion without me needing to ask. Those are the people I don’t know.

The people I know are always gracious, if I need an extra hand to carry something. If there’s somewhere I want to go, but can’t get there on my own, my friends and family do everything they can to help. Recently, on our annual trip to Cabo, I was even able to go deep-sea fishing for the first time, because my friends did the research and booked a charter that could accommodate me. I might have barfed in a bucket, but I went!

Maybe these things would still happen, if I were able-bodied, but I’ll never know. I do know that most people are good, even if we misjudge them.

The guy at the gym had a hairstyle that I equate with young guys who hoard equipment and pose in the mirror and take selfies between sets. Plus, he was sipping from an energy drink, and he had the audacity to start using an unoccupied piece of equipment that I was quietly planning to use in a few minutes. I think you get the point. I was being overly and unfairly harsh in my assessment of someone I had never met, and God wanted to point out my mistake.

I didn’t think that I was overt in my frustration with the situation, so imagine my surprise when he followed me out to the parking lot. There, he politely introduced himself, and asked me if I was Christian. Not wanting to be randomly evangelized, I was gracious, yet cautious in my response. He continued by saying that God told him that he needed to talk to me. Then, he read a Bible verse about God’s healing power, and he asked if he could say a prayer for me.

He explained that he truly believed that God could heal me. Ashamedly, as he was saying this, I wanted to say that God and a whole bunch of doctors have tried for decades to no avail to heal me, but I let him continue. Finally, he gently grabbed my arm and said a prayer, before excusing himself and returning to the gym.

I believe that God sends people into our lives with the messages we need to hear. The message I received that day was twofold: 1. I need to be less judgmental, and 2. Always take the time to spread kindness. My new gym friend didn’t need to expose himself to possible ridicule by putting himself in an awkward situation with a stranger, but he did, and it changed the trajectory of my week.

Look for an opportunity to spread kindness today. You don’t have to approach a stranger with a prayer. Something as simple and painless as a smile and few kind words can brighten someone’s day. Even if you don’t get the response you expect, you’ll benefit from the effort.

How’s the Book Going?

Sat, 17 Feb 2024 17:15:36 GMT

When I finally finished writing Marginal and felt that it was ready to publish, I invited a good friend of mine to breakfast to get his advice. Jeff Beals had written and published two books, one of which I was honored to consult on and edit. Furthermore, he travels the country, speaking on self-marketing. Outside of the publishing industry, there are few people more qualified to advise on the process of publishing and selling books.

Jeff was encouraging, but also very candid in his advice, saying that someone told him when he thought he was ready to publish his first book, “Congratulations on writing a book, but that’s the easy part. It’s much more difficult to get people to buy your book.” Those words have been rattling around in my skull for the two months since I published Marginal.

Initial sales were brisk and encouraging, but have since slowed down significantly. That’s not surprising, since I marketed the book primarily though my social media contacts. There are only so many books that my friends and family can buy. Now, I need to sell books to people who don’t know me or who aren’t connected to me in some other way. That’s where I can use your help.

As uncomfortable as self-promotion is, without a marketing budget behind me, it’s critical that I do it, and again, I need your help. If you have read the book, and you enjoyed it, AND you feel compelled to help, I would really appreciate it. If none of those three factors apply, don’t worry about it. Maybe you’ll like the next one.

Ways that You Can Help

Potential readers are skeptical of first-time novelists, especially if they don’t know the author. That’s why it’s critical that they are assured that the book is worth their time and money. There are three main ways that you can help me gain the credibility I need to sell more books:

Share an image of the book or a link to mitcharnold.com on your social media. In that post, relate how you enjoyed the book and/or why you recommend it. You don’t have to write an all-out review – no one expects you to be a professional book critic. A sentence or two will suffice. The accompanying image will catch more eyes than text, but if you don’t feel comfortable sharing an image, text is just fine.

Write a review on Amazon. Many active readers use Amazon to shop for books, and ratings and reviews matter to this audience. To gain credibility with these people, it’s critical that my Amazon page be active. Currently, I have only one review. I suppose that’s better than a bunch of bad reviews; still, a solo review doesn’t convey much “buzz” for the book. Again, you don’t have to write a high-level review – just a sentence or two about why the book appealed to you. The Amazon page for Marginal is here.

Encourage your friends who are avid readers to give the book a shot. For those of you who are avid readers, if you’re a member of an organization that discusses books, please consider sharing Marginal with them. Even if you’re not an avid reader, but you know someone who might enjoy the book, please recommend my book.

In a perfect world, I’d have a big-name publisher behind me, and they would have a marketing department actively promoting Marginal. That’s not the case here. In the current environment, it’s nearly impossible for a straight, white male with traditional pronouns to get an established publisher interested in reading his first manuscript, so I didn’t even try. Instead, I bet on myself and invested my time and resources in writing and publishing Marginal. Now, I can really use your help to realize my dream of writing a successful book. Thanks for your consideration and for reading this post.

Does Stumbling Disqualify Me from the Presidency?

mitch@preferredpartnersllc.com (Mitch Arnold) — Sat, 13 Jan 2024 16:44:31 GMT

A current political commercial includes a video clip of a politician stumbling while climbing up the stairs to Air Force One. The clip doesn’t mention the stumble, but the clear intended implication is that a president who struggles climbing stairs is unfit for office. Maybe I just don’t understand how important stair-climbing is to the duties of the United States president, but this seems like an insensitive cheap shot from the campaign of someone who purports to be deserving of the office.

Before I step on any toes, I should point out that this post isn’t intended as a political piece. Personally, I don’t care for, and won’t vote for, either of the candidates who appear to be leading the race. My issue is with using a physical handicap as a barometer for competence, and it’s personal.

Though Joe Biden is nearly 30 years older than me, he is much better at climbing stairs than I am. In fact, I don’t know if I could climb the stairs to Air Force One, but I’m sure that if I were president, someone would figure out how to get me on the plane. Sadly, that will almost certainly not happen – not because I don’t want to be president of the United States (I don’t); instead, my handicap would negatively affect my electability. A guy with obvious mobility issues like me wouldn’t have a chance to prove that he was otherwise capable and competent.

Even though a septuagenarian and an octogenarian are leading the race for the nation’s top office, we are a society that equates youth and physical appearance with competence, trust and admiration. We prefer and admire those who seem to “have it all together” over those who have obvious challenges, like the elderly and the handicapped.

Such discrimination is really no one’s fault. We’re all chasing an ideal. We want to appear as young, attractive and successful as possible, because that’s what is constantly modeled in the media and entertainment industry. Because we rarely see the elderly and disabled in key roles, we don’t consider them worthy or capable, but that blinds us to the potential of those we overlook.

Ironically, if we’re lucky, we’re all going to become old, and when we’re old, we’re likely to experience physical challenges. Though the pharmaceutical commercials want us to believe that we’re going to be active and healthy until that day that we topple over into our graves, that’s not reality. It’s much more likely that we’ll face a slow physical regression in our waning years. We’re not going to be any less viable or alive, yet the world around us will start to write us off.

I occasionally experience that, especially when I travel. Riding in my wheelchair with my wife pushing, I see check-in people at the airport, and front desk staff at hotels and restaurants, look right over my head and address my wife, while ignoring me. I get it. Time is often short, and I likely represent an obstacle to smooth check-ins. I’m also pretty sure that most people don’t handle interactions with people like me very well, because they’re unprepared and uncomfortable, and they subconsciously at least, see us as less worthy of their attention.

Don’t be that way. It’s been my experience that some of the most pleasant people you’ll meet are handicapped and/or elderly. Engage with us. Maybe even show a little compassion. We’ll likely reward your effort with a smile and maybe even inject a little optimism into your day. Most of all, don’t view our challenges as an indication of our competence, especially if you want our vote.

Don’t Let Gratitude Hibernate

mitch@preferredpartnersllc.com (Mitch Arnold) — Wed, 27 Dec 2023 20:46:21 GMT

Six months ago, sitting on my patio, enjoying the abundant sunshine and warmth, I thought to myself, “What a great time to be alive!” The sun shined from the time I awoke until nearly the time I went to bed. I could have the windows open to let the fresh air in, and didn’t have to wear warm, bulky clothes. Summer weather gave me a lot to be thankful for.

I thought about that moment last week, during the winter solstice. Now, I awake and eat dinner with darkness outside. The windows are closed shut, and I’m wearing layers, even inside. Though winter weather doesn’t inspire much gratitude, gratitude should not hibernate. We just need to look harder to find it.

That’s kind of the way it goes with gratitude. When we need it most, it’s the hardest to find. It’s easy to be grateful when everything seems to be going your way. The sun is shining. You’re warm and happy, and tomorrow is something you eagerly anticipate. But what about those days when there’s more darkness in your life than sunshine? When you feel that the world is giving you a cold shoulder, and you worry about what challenges tomorrow will bring?

That was most of 1993 for me. In 1992, I had wrapped up a successful college experience, and became a high school teacher. It was now time to cash in on my hard work and dedication. Everything was going to be like college, except with a little more money and a lot less worry about college classes. Unfortunately, most of my friends were back in college, and I started to feel a little separated from them. Then, right before Christmas in 1992, my long-time girlfriend dumped me. Suddenly, nothing seemed right, and gratitude very rarely crossed my mind. When I needed gratitude most, I simply couldn’t find it.

I lost a year of my life wallowing in a negative mindset, because I wasn’t yet skilled in the art of gratitude. Sure, family and friends encouraged me to focus on all that I had to be thankful for, but I was 23 years old and lacked perspective, so I put up a wall, and instead focused on all that I had lost. To live in gratitude, you must learn how to control your thoughts, and I wasn’t there yet.

Gratitude is precisely what we need during challenging times in our lives. Beyond what gratitude does for a person’s outlook on life, it’s also proven to reduce depression and anxiety, boost heart health and relieve stress – in other words, it’s almost the perfect antidote for the mental and physical complications we experience when we’re dealing with life’s darkness.

Fortunately for me, at the end of 1993 – almost to the day of getting dumped in 1992, I rekindled a romance with my future wife, and we’ve been going strong for thirty years. Still, I wish that I hadn’t ceded so much of that year to darkness.

If darkness inside or outside has you feeling down, consider adding gratitude to your daily routine. Before you get out of bed in the morning, think about things that you are thankful for, even consider writing them down or sharing them with others. When negativity creeps into your mind, which it invariably will, use gratitude as a shield, and watch those thoughts of gratitude crowd negativity right out of your mind. Be consistent with these efforts, and soon, gratitude will become a habit.

No matter how dark and cold it may get, don’t let your gratitude hibernate.

Are You Anxious About Being Anxious?

Mon, 23 Oct 2023 19:42:12 GMT

Last week, one of my clients invited me to visit her office, and my reaction, like always whenever I consider going someplace new, was immediate anxiety. I’m not anxious about how she will react to my obvious handicap – I got over that fear decades ago. Now, I just worry if I can navigate the terrain.

Anxiety like that is something that I experience almost daily. Because I’m prone to falls, I must be cautious, and avoid unnecessary risks, but, because I need to experience life, I also must be courageous enough to accept some risk. It’s that fine line that creates the anxiety, and it’s something that all of us face to some degree. The greater challenge is not becoming anxious about being anxious.

There is risk any time we leave our comfort zones. When we apply for a job, ask someone out for a date or try something new, we expose ourselves to risk, and that creates anxiety. Leaving our comfort zones is also necessary to living a full and rewarding life, so we must be willing to accept some risk. Unfortunately, we often choose to avoid risk at any cost, because we know that anxiety comes with any risk, and we don’t want to be anxious.

When we become anxious about being anxious, we slowly strangle the joy out of our lives. The pandemic we lived through a few years back was a stark reminder of that. During that weird time, “experts” recommended, and actually enforced, anxiety. Don’t leave your home unless absolutely necessary, they told us, and if you do leave your home, limit your contact with other people. Some of us heeded that warning, while others accepted whatever risk they were comfortable with, and continued to live their lives. Though I tended toward the latter, I eventually quit looking forward to travel and other outings, as I didn’t want to expose myself to worrying about something getting in the way of those plans. I had become anxious about being anxious.

I experienced something similar with a goal I have had for some time. For the past couple of years, I have wanted to publish a book that I have written once and revised countless times, but publishing a book brings enormous risk and anxiety. It’s much easier to nurture the dream of writing a successful novel than it is to actually put the work out there and see how others react, so I have procrastinated with that final step while obsessively editing the manuscript. I became anxious about being anxious, and that has held me back for far too long.

Inspired by a friend who published his first novel last year, I recently changed my thinking and took the next step by hiring a professional to help me finally put my work into print. Now, I’m not only risking my ego, I’m also risking a significant financial investment. With my money, time and ego tied up in the project, I’m anxious, but no longer anxious about being anxious, and that’s liberating. If all goes according to plan, my book, Marginal, should be available for purchase by the end of the year. It might not win me a Pulitzer or land on a best sellers list, but it wouldn’t even have a chance if I didn’t risk the anxiety that is coming my way.

Our time on this earth is limited, and we shouldn’t limit our enjoyment of that time with unnecessary anxiety. Take that trip. Apply for that dream job. Try a new hobby. Share a hidden talent. Start that business. Things might not work out the way you want, but then again, they might! You’ll never know unless you try. Don’t let anxiety about being anxious keep you from trying.

Monday Morning Musings from the Emergency Room

Mon, 25 Sep 2023 19:50:11 GMT

It was a Monday morning, and though I wasn’t thinking about it, I probably needed the attitude adjustment that was about to come. Just an hour into my work week, I stood up from my desk and took a few steps to pour myself some water from the sink, but I never made it to the sink. Instead, I tripped and fell flat on my face, literally. The blood falling in large drops on the floor told me that this wasn’t going to be an average Monday.

Like many people, perhaps even you, my attitude is lackluster on Monday mornings. Enjoying time with family and friends, and the absence of structure, I’m much happier on the weekends than when facing the structure and pressures of the work week. That, plus the realization that I’m as far away from the weekend as I can get, make Monday mornings a struggle. On this particular Monday morning, a few weeks ago, the struggle was intensified.

Fortunately, I work from home, and my wife was home with me, though she was outside tending to her garden. It was my four-year-old granddaughter who heard the commotion and came to check on me. She’s a sharp little girl, and I’m thankful for that, because she was able to go outside and get Lynda. I’m also thankful that my wife is a physician assistant who sees lacerations often during her work at a primary clinic. Despite my protests and pleas that she pop some staples in my head, like she’s done before, she insisted that I go to the emergency room to get fixed up in a sterile environment. It’s a Monday morning, she said, they shouldn’t be busy.

They were VERY busy. Not only was the waiting room full, there were three ambulances in the bay, presumably carrying patients with larger concerns than the large vertical gash I sported on my forehead, so I settled into one of the few empty seats, and began my wait. At my urging, Lynda and Presley left to run some errands. Not only do I struggle with Monday mornings, patience while waiting is also a weakness; however, I felt a calmness that day.

I didn’t have a phone or TV to entertain me, and the sparse newspaper that I bled all over didn’t take me long to read, so I was left with my thoughts and observations. All around me were people awaiting treatment and their loved ones who were trying to comfort them. Two young families with fathers who looked absolutely miserable were among the crowd. One carried a plastic pitcher as a safety net, in case he couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time to vomit. The other seemed to be suffering from a migraine or some other intense head pain. Both wives rubbed their husbands’ backs and encouraged them.

I didn’t find comfort seeing strangers suffering, but I found peace in the love and faith that filled the waiting room, and I was reminded that I’m not the only one with health struggles. Because I work from home, I often don’t see anyone but my family and the gym crowd during the week, and I rarely see anyone with a worse physical handicap than I have. Sitting in that waiting room, I began to realize that I had inadvertently became kind of smug in my ability to handle my daily struggles.

Struggle is universal. We’re all going to face it, if we haven’t already, and it’s often unpleasant. However, with the right attitude, we can put struggle in its proper place – as a part of life, but not a limiter of life. Ironically, my trip to the emergency room actually improved my attitude that Monday morning. It realigned my perspective and made me realize that my normal Monday morning self-pity was unnecessarily limiting my appreciation of the opportunities that possibly awaited me in the new week.

If you’re struggling today or any day, take a few minutes to reflect in gratitude and to remind yourself that you’re not alone, but that it’s up to you to find the right attitude to put the struggles behind you.

_______

For those keeping score, this is my second trip to the emergency room to get my head stitched up. One more, and the next one’s free! With the 26 stitches I got that day, plus multiple staples Lynda has added at home, my head is starting to look like a jigsaw puzzle, but I keep plugging along. Have a great day!

Student-Athlete Criticism from a Parent’s Perspective

Mon, 21 Aug 2023 19:57:14 GMT

There was an illegal procedure called on the field, and the inebriated commentator seated a couple rows behind me was quick with her analysis. “Whenever there’s an illegal procedure called, it’s almost always the center’s fault.” It wasn’t the first time she shared her commentary with the entire section, but this one got my attention because my son was the center, starting his first home game on national television as a redshirt freshman.

I’ve been thinking about that moment lately, as we near the start of the college football season, a time of year when fans across the nation lose their minds over a game played by young men just a few years removed from getting their driver’s licenses. Now, before the first snap, everyone loves the players on their team. Once the games start, however, some of those same players become idiots, worthless, losers and much worse, when profanities are included.

While I can appreciate the passion of fans, I’m really bothered when that passion devolves into derision, especially since I had an inside view into what goes on behind the scenes with college football players. Playing college football, especially at the highest level, is a full-time job for these guys, and when you factor in school, it’s much more. That’s when everything is going well. Injuries, relationship problems, being homesick – any number of things – can make things even more difficult.

The physical challenges are obvious, but most critics are completely unaware or oblivious of the mental challenges facing athletes. I saw that recently, when a star player for the big team in my state left the team, saying he just wasn’t into football any longer. Some fans on the message boards I frequent opined about the player’s toughness, stamina and ambition. To them, the player’s self-awareness was subjugated to their desire to see him on the field entertaining them. Such thinking relegates student-athletes to gladiators, and that’s just wrong.

The quarterback my son played with in college, a redshirt freshman getting his first starts with my son, received vile message from “fans,” after losing that first home game to a nationally ranking Washington State team led by the late coach Mike Leach. This quarterback had taken over for Josh Allen, who became an All-Pro with the Buffalo Bills, and these “fans” were upset that he wasn’t playing at that level. To express their anger, they sent him messages not only criticizing his performance, but also suggesting that he kill himself. Imagine being a nineteen-year-old, already upset with the loss, receiving messages like that.

Fortunately, most fans are rational and keep their negative comments to themselves. Unfortunately, they are often overshadowed by the crude behavior of others. Most of us have heard it often enough that we’re numb to it or perhaps we’re forgiving because we’ve muttered some of that negativity ourselves. I did, before I was able to see things from a parent’s perspective.

Now, when I hear negative comments about any athlete, I try to counter the criticism with perspective and to humanize the subject of the criticism. If you haven’t played at that level and you don’t know the athlete personally, how could you ever appreciate what they’re going through? Even more, how would you feel if someone said that about your son?

Football is in the past for my son and our family. Like most college athletes, his career didn’t culminate at the professional level. Instead, he’s out in the real world, trying to make his mark as a family man and a professional. That’s where most of the athletes we so harshly criticize go, while their critics carry on their antics. Though I wanted to, I didn’t try to correct my son’s critic that afternoon in the stands. Instead, I try to do that with myself and the people I know, and I hope others do the same, until it’s no longer socially acceptable.