My Dad's Purple Star Saphire Ring

My Dad always said these things that at the time made no sense and at times felt obnoxious, mean or sarcastic when correcting me so most of the time I didn't listen. He must of known that recordings of him were being made in the back of my mind and thirty years later he would make perfect sense.

One thing he would always say, "It's OK to get angry! If you get mad you still have a chance to win, but if you start feeling sorry for yourself you've already lost!"

I think he said something like this when he saw me help a guy up who had cheap-shotted me in football. "I think you play a little better when your mad. Playing defense is not about being nice."

 He said something like it when I got a post surgical staph infection in my knee the spring of my Senior year. During the thirty days I was in the hospital I had to come to terms with loosing my dreams of being a professional baseball player (I actually had had a pretty good shot at it) and come to terms with loosing my football scholarship and on day seven, in traction, with tubes running in and out of everywhere come to terms with the very real possibility of loosing my leg. I remember saying something really nasty to him when he'd asked me if I had given up and he said, "Good, get mad at me and get really mad at this thing, I'd rather see you angry than feeling sorry for yourself!" He then brought me some shrimp fried rice.

So I got some bad news at work today. I have been, "displaced" as of January first. Merry Christmas.

I was walking my dogs in the snow and I looked down at my freezing hands and my Dad's ring must have hit the sun just right and the star in the middle winked at  me. I was looking down and strating to feel pretty darn sorry for myself and there he was telling me it was alright to be angry but not to feel sorry myself. "You can still win this one Bitty Buddy. You always play a little better when you're mad."

I have to take my DDD's advice with a grain of salt. What may have worked when I was an 18 year old playing football doesn't always bode well for a 46 year old 6' 3" 229 pound  bald guy who out-weighs his wife and three daughters combined. I've found that if I temper my anger with gratitude I can still win a few battles and not scare everyone off.

I am grateful Pfizer paid for my Masters Degree before kicking me to the curb. OK sarcasm is hard to grow out of but I am grateful and would do it all again in a heartbeat if I could.

Thank you Pfizer. You'll be see me again.