If you have been following this blog lately, you know that I was in San Diego last week at my National Speakers Association convention. It was an interesting week. While the some of the content wasn’t what I needed, the hall talk and side conversations gave me what I wanted and needed. It started with my luggage not arriving with me and interestingly, ended that way too (what are the chances?). If late flights and lost luggage worry you, check out this story about inspirational speaker Larry Colbert and his seeing eye dog:

Yesterday, Friday the 13th came with more than one miracle for Larry and his
guide dog Banner. Larry and Banner were on their way to a speaking
engagement in Nevada. Larry took a cab from his house to Sky Harbor.

Somehow, and that looms as the huge unanswered question, Banner received a
gash in his leg while riding in the back seat of the cab. Larry said that
Banner yelped and jumped from the floor boards onto the seat shortly before
arriving at the airport. This was highly unusual because Banner is
extremely well trained, but since Larry cannot see, he didn’t realize that
Banner was injured, so he got his bag and holding Banner’s harness,
proceeded to the airport.

Larry said that Banner just led him along as if nothing was wrong. Then a
Phoenix airport security employee stopped Larry to ask if he could help. That is when Larry realized the urgency of the situation.

Later, Troy, a South West customer service agent, who saved Banner’s
life, told me that Banner would most certainly have gotten Larry to the
airplane and bled to death in the process if someone had not intervened. But
the ground crew employees of South West Airlines took it upon themselves to
help.

Larry telephoned me and said… “I need your help, Banner is hurt.” I knew
by the sound of his voice that this was a real emergency. I blasted out of
the house and across town to the airport. On the way I telephoned the vet’s
office to alert them that we would be coming in…. and carried an on going
conversation with Larry and one of the South West Airline employees. When I
finally arrived a police car with emergency lights on had cleared a place
for me to park…. a walkway had been cleared through the throng of
onlookers…. Banner was on the floor with Larry beside him, and eight or
ten uniformed people some kneeling some crouching were gathered around
Banner, who was in great distress.

Larry was splattered in blood from his waist down, there was blood
everywhere and on everyone. Troy lifted Banner and carried him to the car. I
didn’t realize it at the time, but Troy’s hand was clenched around Banner’s
leg to stop the flow of blood. Banner, Troy and Larry got in the back seat
of my car and away we went. When we arrived at the vet’s three young women
emerged with a stretcher and rolls of tape. They wrapped the leg right
there, so that Troy could release his grip, but Troy, who by then was like a
family member, carried Banner inside, sans stretcher.

Banner underwent surgery almost immediately. He had sliced the major vein to
his leg and nicked an artery, and those employees of South West Airlines who
left their posts to render aid quite simply kept Banner alive until Dr.
Bastek could work her magic. Troy told me many hours later that he was still
in shock from the whole experience.... and that he felt a bond with Banner
and Larry that he wanted to keep.

Larry took a later flight to Las Vegas for his speaking engagement. He said
that the legend of Banner preceded him and that every South West employee he
met along the way asked about Banner (who is recovering nicely).

All in all, it was a Friday the Thirteenth to remember… and a time to
realize that there are everyday people out there just waiting to be heroes.
I saw dozens of heroes yesterday.

I had the honor of having Banner stay with me here in Mesa after being
released from the hospital. Larry managed just fine with his “white stick”
on his engagement in Nevada. He said he missed the freedom that Banner
allows him, and of course was worried about Banner too. The South West
Airline employees sent Banner the flowers and balloon in the photo as a get
well gift. I think he really liked it! What a weekend! Those employees were
more than heroes….. they were angels in disguise.
Yes. And the story gets better. Turns out the Southwest employees who left
their stations and helped Larry and Banner didn’t know that Larry was flying
with them that day. They just did the right thing.

Thanks Beth Terry for forwarding me this story. Thanks to Larry’s girl friend for documenting and thanks to seeing eye dogs everywhere. If we could be so loyal.

Tim Richardson is an inspirational speaker who speaks about how giving increases employee morale, lowers employee turnover, increases customer loyalty and creates higher profits for Fortune 500 companies. He is founder of the Bill Walter Melanoma Research Fund. For more information on Tim, go to www.TimRichardson.com

If you’ve been reading this blog the last few days, you know I just returned
from speaking at the US Olympic Training Center for young Paralympic
hopefuls. My speaking goals this year included adding clients like Fortune
500 companies Apple, IBM, Microsoft, and companies that really care like
Hallmark Cards, Patagonia, etc. After my weekend with some incredible young
athletes, my wish now is for more engagements like this one. In the coming days, I will be writing about some of the experiences I had while I was there along with some of the most incredible inspirational stories of some pretty awesome young people with amazing stories.

The day I left to come back, I met Tom Kersey who is the director of the New
England Handicapped Sports Association. Tom, his staff, and volunteers give
disabled people of all ages the thrill of their lives on snow. For twelve
years, Tom has spent every weekend and two weeks of his vacation
volunteering with the Ski NEHSA organization. A few years ago, when the
director’s job came open, Tom jumped at the chance. He took a 50% pay cut to
become the organization’s director. Colleagues from his previous job at
Nationwide Insurance thought Tom was crazy when he told them he was leaving
to help disable people learn to ski. He was offered a number of additional
perks and an opportunity to move wherever he wanted if he would have stayed
with Nationwide. His old boss and his co-workers didn’t get it. They asked
questions like, “Do you get paid for helping?” and “Do you get gas money or
free food?”

Tom sent his old boss a DVD of the program which caused them to “get it”. It
also resulted in a $15,000 donation for the program. Tom said, “It’s easy to
go to work if you love what you do. It’s such a big part of who you are.”
Tom says he gets calls from volunteers weekly who say things like “I am
having a bad day at work and I’d like to come volunteer.” He’s even had
people call in sick just so they could help in the program.

He says he gets letters almost every day of how the program has changed lives. Tom says “It’s not everyday that you work in a job where for twenty-five
dollars (the cost of a lift ticket) you can give someone a thrill they’ll never forget.”
He says the feeling you get from helping disabled skiers is not something you can buy
and it’s a priceless gift for both the volunteers and the participants. At least once a week
Tom said he gets comments like “This was the best day of my life.” Those comments come from both the leaders and participants. He frequently hears comment like an instructor told him recently, “I just had the best lesson of my life and I didn’t teach it”. There’s a lot of learning that comes from giving. Few know that better than Tom Kersey. 

Tim Richardson is an inspirational speaker who speaks
about how giving increases employee morale, lowers employee turnover,
increases customer loyalty and creates higher profits for Fortune 500 companies. He also is a leadership speaker, customer service trainer and sales motivator. For more information go to www.TimRichardson.com

 

Within the last twenty-four hours, I had the rare treat of being able to watch the sun rise and set. I saw the beginning of the day and end. I saw the first light and the last; the alpha and the omega. I experienced the still quiet wonder almost solo in an early morning and the loud, crowd-filled celebration of sunset, a Key West tradition at Mallory Square. Those experiences, coupled with two others got me thinking about the precious: the first and last part of life. Early in life, we’re too young to know to appreciate what a gift it is. Late in life it MAY be too late to fully realize.

Yesterday, I was the professional speaker for Southeast Corporate’s annual meeting. While there, I had the pleasure of really getting to know a guy I had known from my home town of Jacksonville, Florida. A guy whose has had a rough row to hoe the last several years. He’s had a slight problem …. with his brain. Specifically a tumor… no, make that tumors. He’s had countless doctor’s appointments, several surgeries, medication changes, seizures and lots of time to wonder about his own sunset. His medication prevents him from driving and doing other things that you and I take for granted. He’s had moments where he couldn’t recognize people he’s known for years. He’s starred death in the face and he’s winning.

Last night, I watched a segment on Anderson Cooper’s 360 on CNN. He told a story of an 18 year old boy named Miles Levin who has cancer. He’s not winning and it doesn’t look like he’s going to win. He’s likely in the sunset of his life and doing a grand job of making the most of it while helping others before his world is totally darkened. He’d be one incredible inspirational speaker or motivational speaker at a business meeting or convention. His platform is his laptop and his podium is his bed. He blogs. And he’s inspiring and motivating a worldwide audience from his bed. Here’s a recent entry:

Looking through my living room window, I suspect being outside would feel wonderful, but I really wouldn’t know. As I write this from my bed, my entire body feels saturated in a sticky, toxic nausea, with chemotherapy pumping through my 18-year-old veins. Like Michael Jackson’s moonwalk, chemotherapy has this strange way of moving a person another step towards life and death at the same time.

Twenty three months ago, I was diagnosed with stage IV rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare pediatric muscle cancer affecting only 350 children a year. With odds like that, and with a 20 percent chance of survival, I can only deduce two possibilities about the universe: God’s plan is evident in every little shifting of the breeze, or it’s totally random. I don’t see how there could be much middle ground.

I remember my first chemo round, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry. The agony was stunning. I’ve long since learned to go ahead and cry. How could this have happened? Yet as with anything that happens, it happens, and then suddenly you find it has happened, and more things keep continuing to happen. Chemotherapy has instilled in me a visceral understanding that all bad things will pass in time … but that all good things will too.

I set out on a 19-month course of treatment, chronicling the journey on an online blog. Little did I know that my little Web site intended to keep extended family and friends informed would find readers all across the country and even the world, including such countries as Japan, Australia, Germany, Brazil.

My journey became our journey, with treatment finishing last December. For a brief, hopeful month in January, it appeared to have been successful. My scans were clear. But, as is so common with cancer, there were still sub-detectable rogue cells lurking in distant corners of my body. Within weeks, they swarmed forth again and my body was infested once more.

A recurrence of my kind of cancer has been hitherto incurable, although I still cling to a slim ray of hope. But in all likelihood, I am in the last few months of my short life.

Unlike many cancer patients, I don’t have much anger. The way I see it, we’re not entitled to one breath of air. We did nothing to earn it, so whatever we get is bonus. I might be more than a little disappointed with the hand I’ve been dealt, but this is what it is. Thinking about what it could be is pointless. It ought to be different, that’s for sure, but it ain’t. A moment spent moping is a moment wasted.

I accept what is to come, but I cannot rid myself of a deep mourning for all those experiences — college, marriage, children, grandchildren — that will probably never be mine to celebrate. What solace I do find is in the knowledge that I have done everything I can to transmute this terribleness into something positive by showing as many people as I can how to endure it with a smile.

I don’t believe you can ask for any more, but if I could ask for something, it would be to be able to go outside into the glorious spring air, feeling healthy and blissfully clueless as to how lucky I was for it, if only just for an hour.

Tim Richardson is an inspirational speaker who speaks about how giving increases employee morale, lowers employee turnover, increases customer loyalty and creates higher profits for Fortune 500 companies, associations, and national conventions. He is the founder of the The Worlds Biggest Blog Party an event which will connect bloggers from all over the world to raise money for charity. He is also founder and president of the Bill Walter Melanoma Research Fund. For more information on Tim, go to www.TimRichardson.com