I recently returned to Texas for several speaking
engagements and book signings, both impromptu and planned. Speaking to executives from rural and
community hospitals on leadership and team building, I was in Dallas, where I pulled
off the previously unheard of hat trick of entertaining and teaching conference
attendees at 8:30 in the AM, y’all. Uncle
Dusty can bring the funny regardless of the time of day. The Dad says, “It ain’t braggin’, if it’s a
fact.” I had several hours to kill
before my friend, the esteemed Master Richard Waller, was available to dine, so
I sat in the lobby and, in an extremely choreographed nonchalant manner,
managed to sell a dozen copies of ‘Almost Odis’. I did not curse a single time, during my presentation,
lunch, book sales or dinner. This is
important to note.
As you know,
dear readers, my blog is G-rated. I do
not curse, as a rule, and I never talk about things that could even loosely be
construed as nasty or dirty. I am a man
of high moral standards and my language, while colorful, is not often
coarse. Full disclosure, I do
occasionally cuss, but usually only in traffic and, even then, only in response
to the actions of someone who is ridiculous.
The
next morning, my tour guide for the trip to Red River County and memory lane
was my former girlfriend and one-half of the twins who were my besties starting
from 30 seconds after we met in 1982. The hilarious, sarcastic force of nature known
as Juliann (Juli) Wood, apparently enjoys a reputation for using the F-word as
a noun, verb, adverb and adjective. This
is also important to note.
I had a
speaking engagement at Rivercrest High School on Friday, April 13, 2018. While I don’t normally buy into these sorts
of superstitious nonsense, there might be something to it. I forgot to tell you my room at the Hyatt Downtown
Dallas was on the 14th floor.
However, seeing as they didn’t number a 13th floor, my room
was actually on the 13th floor.
Weird, I know, but what can you do; hoteliers are an odd bunch.
I hadn’t
been to Bogata, or Rivercrest High, since we abandoned Texas for Mississippi,
with literally a moment’s notice in 1986, the summer between grades 10 and
11. I was asked to speak to the senior
class and wanted to make sure I connected with an audience which, admittedly, I
barely connected with when I lived there.
Uncle Dusty is an odd bird out in the boonies, y’all. True Story.
I always refer to myself as Uncle Dusty when speaking to high school and
college students, as I started giving advice to my nieces and nephews and this
is the moniker they created for me.
My presentation
made a number of points, some of them confirming my bonifides as a former
resident of the boonies, showing pictures of me with my sheep and in my football and
band uniforms. I then proceeded to give
a little advice. I won’t put you through
my complete presentation, but I will say that Ronny Allsup’s (Brother Ron Ron
to the other half of the twins, Denise) only request was, “Don’t get me fired.” I assured him I wouldn’t do anything to get
him in trouble. He, and several other
people, said they didn’t have any concerns about me, but they were worried
about Miss Juli and her salty tongue, as she was to introduce me. Juli was adamant they had nothing to worry
about and her intro was delightful and set to the tune of Billy Idol’s ‘Rebel
Yell’.
My talk
bounced from telling them that my plans for after high school were the slightly
vague, “I want to be indoors” and the more specific, “Not hauling hay.” I talked about being proud of who you are,
unless you’re mean and then you need to “Stop it! There’s enough jerks in the world.” I told them I was proud to be from Bogata,
but I couldn’t wait to leave. I told
them if they left that was great, but if they stayed, that was great, too, as long
as they traveled because that’s how you broaden your world view and makes you more
aware.
I told
them to appreciate their family and friends and to choose relationships
wisely. I encouraged them to debate, not
argue. I reminded them that hard work
beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.
I challenged them to be the thing they don’t see in the world, whether
its kindness, passion, authenticity or honesty.
I specifically said they should never lie; be as kind a possible, but
don’t lie just to spare someone’s feelings.
I asked them to focus on doing something they love and not worry about
making money and I even quoted Abraham Lincoln, “Whatever you are, be a good
one.”
I know
you have to make people laugh to get them to listen and remember advice,
especially from some random older guy, wearing Kelly green chinos and navy wingtips. You also have to use stories to connect with
people and I was telling them tales of rodeos, involuntary horseback riding and
other 4-H-related things. We had segued
into the last part of my talk where I give them ‘Tips on How to be A Decent
Human’, like (1) your mama lied to you; you’re not special, rules apply to
you, just like everyone else, (2) put the buggy back in the corral at The
Wal-Mart or the grocery store, (3) don’t dislike someone you’ve never met, (4) if you get defensive when someone questions your opinion, you might need a
new opinion and (5) if you have to exaggerate to make a point, you just proved
your point isn’t worth making.
I was
on a roll and they were laughing and loving it and I started telling the story
about my cow from 4-H. You remember the
one I told y’all where it was the only one in the competition and still came in
third place. I have told that story many
times, especially when talking to groups about making emotional decisions, and
I always quote The Dad as having said, “Son, that is a pitiful cow.” The actual quote is, “Son, that is a shitty
cow.” I have never once used the S-word
when telling that story, until that very moment. I said “SHIT-TAY” right into the microphone,
as loud as if I was announcing a boxing match in Vegas, y’all. I didn’t even realize it at first until the teenage
audience absolutely howled with laughter and it dawned on me. I said, “Oh, no! Did I just cuss, Brother Ron?” “Yep,” he said, smiling and shaking his head.
What
could I do, y’all, but try to do damage control? I said to the group, “Okay, y’all. I heard that Stanley Jesse is the Superintendent. If he asks you, ‘Did Mr. Thompson say anything
inappropriate, y’all should say ‘No!’. As
soon as I said it, the ring leader, you can always tell who it is, raised his hand
and said, “Didn’t you just tell us not to lie?”
Ouch. Out of the mouths of cowboy
babes. I was excited he had been listening, but shamed I had cussed. What could I do but say, “Yep. You called me out. Disregard what I just said. However, if anyone asks if I cussed, just
say, ‘He did, but it was a direct quote’.”
They laughed and agreed, I exhaled and sat down and looked over at Juli,
who was smiling that smile, you know the one.
I asked her, “How do you think it went?”
She smirked and said, “It was shitty” while Denise laughed in the
background.
I’m
pretty sure I’ll not be asked to speak at commencement any time soon.
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