Carpe Diem!

There are times in every person's life where the stars align perfectly. It's up to the person to decide how to react to the opportunity that lies before him/her. Before I go any further, this is NOT going to be some rah rah crap about making the most of yourself. In true Jamey fashion, this is more about never missing the opportunity to create a memory, no matter how ridiculous and embarrassing. Put it all out there. Our lives are not filled with do-overs. A friend of mine recently tried out for the 610 Stompers. If you've never heard of them, it's a group of uncoordinated white guys, who wear ridiculous 80's gym outfits, and absolutely tear it up on the dance floor. Their dancing is usually rudimentary and sloppy, but they are a BLAST to watch. The reason is that they put all reservation aside and go all out. They don't care how it looks, as long as it looks fun. That's very wise advice.

So what is it that holds us back from wearing it on our respective sleeves? I think it's that we lose perspective. We fear the judgment of others. But, we forget that no person's opinion can ever truly hurt you if you have perspective. I would classify perspective as a mental inventory of those things in your life that are truly important. The things you can't live without. If you're doing it right, it's a pretty small list. Mine consists of a handful of people. No job, no house, no possessions (save my trumpet, for sentimental value), and certainly not status. I think the status thing comes from my upbringing. The most important thing was always to know who you were, not who others perceived you to be. You can't control that, so why try.

Back to the inventory; Once you list those things, your ability to screw them up is greatly reduced. Love your spouse, care for your children in every way, and honor you parents. Other than that, what can you really lose? Once this fear is stripped away, senseless shame falls by the wayside and you can embrace how crazy you are dying to be. Trust me, I know it's not just me. Everyone is a little crazy; I've watched "Cops."

So we look back, and we are either left with the regret of opportunities missed or the legend of opportunities seized. Here are some of mine:

In my hometown, your die was pretty much cast from about the 6th grade. You were either in athletics or you weren't. I loved baseball. I played baseball from a very early age, like all the other boys. While I wasn't the best, I don't remember being the worst either. Youth baseball is VERY important in South Mississippi. So much so that my coach, whose son was also on our team, had a regulation baseball field built on his property to host our practices. However, even though I loved it, by baseball and football career died somewhere around the 6th grade. Music dragged my attention from baseball, and football died because I was a very naive, nay ignorant kid. I wasn't hip to the lingo used to make men out of boys at 12 years old. So when the junior high football coach came to visit the 6th grade boys, to get us ready for 7th grade football, I shuttered at what he had to say. He began raving about football being a MAN'S sport and how no momma's boys should even show up to his practice field. It felt a little like the opening 20 minutes of full metal jacket. Like I always did, I began to obsess on the threats he spewed. "No momma's boys?" What in the world does that mean? I loved my mom. He said I shouldn't even show up.

This quickly turned in to "screw it, I'll just be in band." I had a year of that under my belt already, so why rock the boat. But the question stayed with me for a long time. What did coach have against my mother???? My naivety never ceases to amaze me. So after this, my athletic career was over. That is, until my opportunity came to seize the day.

My senior year in high school was miserable. I won't get in to the details now, but just know that it was a very painful year. That being said, you can imagine my trepidation when some of my jock friends, who had just completed a playoff run in baseball, invited me to join their summer league team. I laughed at them, reminded them how long it had been since I played baseball, and declined. But they were persistent. I was assured that not only would I play, but I would start.....in some fashion, and that we would all have a blast before college. Of course, in my mind I knew this felt like a setup. To me, my friends represented Lucy just waiting to jerk the ball out from in front of Charlie Brown. I would undoubtedly end up lying on my back, staring at the sky, while everyone laughed it up.

But something happened. I embraced it. I owned the fact that I would most likely be terrible. This turned out to be one of my favorite memories of high school. For that summer, we traveled around to our neighboring towns and beat the crap out of the other teams, with absolutely no help from me. That's not true. I made two plays that entire summer. One was a base hit where a buddy of mine from the opposing team served me up a very slow pitch right down the middle. He actually winked at me before he threw to let me know what was coming. The second was actually a good play, much to my surprise. I was in left field when the batter hit a screamer right to me, and I caught it in the air.

I can't express to you how little I had to do to make that play. It's not that he hit the ball in my general vicinity, it's more like he was trying to assault me from 250 feet away. I didn't take a step. I just held up my glove, made the catch, and jogged back to the dugout like I'd preserved our pennant hopes. One of the umps even gave me an atta boy as I jogged by, and I shamelessly played it off like it was no big deal. What a fraud. Inside, I was repeatedly screaming to myself "DON'T TRIP" as I made my way back to my cheering teammates.

I had done it. I had truly embraced what I logic told me to resist. I knew I would suck, and I did, but for that summer I let it all hang out. Every strike out, and there were many, I either laughed it off or pointed to the pitcher and assured him I'd get him next time. Tongue in cheek of course.

Story two is about never letting the opportunity pass you by try something a little dangerous. Now, before I'm misunderstood, I'm not talking about robbing banks. This story has more to do with sticking your neck out for a memory.

College Choir. Most of you probably picture something very proper like tuxedos and classical music. While that's certainly part of it, you're missing a very important part: College. When I started junior college at PRCC, choir trips more resembled a national lampoon's movie than high art. Giving 18 year olds the freedom to roam, in packs, is a dangerous thing. One trip sticks out in my mind. All of the community college choirs in Mississippi were going to come together for a mass choir performance of Faure's Requiem in Jackson, MS. To us students this meant one thing, hotel party. Like a plague, we descended on to a hotel in west Jackson loaded with enough booze to fill a swimming pool. The details are a little fuzzy. All I remember is being woken up by our director at 6:00 am, with two prevailing thoughts. 1. "Who hit me in the head with a sledgehammer? 2. Wow, I really need a shower.

By some miracle, we all made it on the bus and trekked over to Hinds Community College for the opening session. As we slumped in to the auditorium we noticed that it appeared that we were not alone in our teenage debauchery. Every other student there, about 500 in total, seemed to be trapped in the very same fog. About fifteen minutes in to the welcome session, the president of Hinds CC greeted us and began what would be the most painfully boring twenty minutes of our lives.

What happened next will go down as the hardest I've ever laughed....EVER. I'm not sure who's bright idea it was, but the word was passed down my row of guys, quickly. When I heard the plan, I surveyed the crowd to see most people's heads in their hands, praying for the tylenol to kick in soon. This just might work.

Just as Hind's president roared in to his speech on parking spaces and campus speed limits, we collectively took our shot. Our row began vigorously applauding. This led to 490 other students snapping back in to reality. Heads popped up, and they began to look around confused as to the meaning of this special occasion. Sure enough, the haze of hangovers began to applaud as well. This was our go ahead sign. We pushed our chips forward and went all in. As the applause increased, we began to whoop and holler. This sent the crowd in to a certified tizzy. Once their applause level matched ours we sprang to our feet. Wouldn't you know it, the sheep followed right along. After a few seconds the entire crowd was on their feet cheering away.

The greatest part of this was not our ability to influence the crowd. It wasn't the confused look on the kids faces. It was the reaction of the president. At first he stepped back from the mic with a confused look on his face. Then his ego got the best of him. He was not going to allow the opportunity to revel in a standing ovation to pass him by. So, he smiled, held up one hand in thanks, and invited us to return to our chairs. It took him a good twenty seconds to regain his composure and finish his welcome speech. I don't remember much of it because our entire row of guys was laughing so hard that we only heard the shh's from our teachers. This was a truly liberating experience. Sure, we got in trouble, but it was definitely worth it. In truth no one was really hurt. We got a laugh, the other students got a free wake up call, and the president learned that he may in fact be the best orator on parking spaces on planet earth.