Depression Is A State Of Mind

               I keep hearing "economic melt down", "wall street havoc", "depression", "bail-out"...it's enough to drive you batty! If you let it. You watch two minutes of CNN and you'd think Gabriel blew the horn eight days ago and we missed it. Woe is us! If we can be feared into a panic in this country, the news media is doing all it can to help.  

      And we do have problems. There is no mistaking that. We have people out of work and struggling. Major companies are reeling. The outlook isn't brilliant. Every state in the union seems to have a money crisis. It is way beyond my simple understanding. And I am not making light of any of it here.

      I'm just so thankful that my happiness, well being and state of mind is not tied to Wall Street. I don't believe half of what I hear on CBS or ABC so they can't frighten me into "their way of thinking". I'm just dumb enough to keep having faith in our country, in our leaders, in our way of life and in our people.

      I got run over at football practice when I was in the ninth grade. About the time I stood up Bob Cassidy ran over me again. I was just getting to my feet and wiping the blood off my face when Douglas Paschall plowed over me. I was staggering to get upright when Mike Ferrigno hit me from the side. I limped home that afternoon holding my right arm in a sling, my left eye was still bleeding, both ears were ringing and my right lung had been displayed to slightly below my pancreas.

      You talk about "depression"! There wasn't no "stimulus package" on earth that could let me live through this! I went back to football practice the next day and the same thing happened. And it was tougher, rougher and longer the following day! On Thursday Coach Scott called everybody up after practice and said that we were the "worst excuse for football players he had ever seen." He allowed it was his fault. He hadn't been working us hard enough. "Gentlemen," he squinted down the line at us, "I will fix that tomorrow." 

      Folks, I was in dire need of a "bail out" before the term became fashionable. CNN wasn't even invented so I leaped-frog into the panic mode all by myself. I was gonna quit football and life! There was no hope! There was no way out! And there seemed no solution or options. "Kes," Doug caught up with me as I was crawling toward the house. I figured he wanted to practice running over me some more. "You are as tough as I've ever seen. It takes a special guy to be a freshman and used as a tackling dummy. I remember I wanted to quit every day. It gets better, I promise. And you are going to play a lot of football here in the next few years. I know it doesn't make sense now, but one day you will appreciate-and even laugh about-these days. Kes, you hang in there. Because I'm going to come back in a couple of years and watch you run this team."

      He patted me on the back and moved down the path toward his house. My heart swelled. I forgot about the bells clanging in my head. The brown beans and cornbread tasted like steak and French fries that night. I walked a little taller at school the next day. A little prouder. And I took those shots from Bob Cassidy and Mike Ferrigno that afternoon with a whole different attitude.          

      Doug Paschall died a few years back. But I have never forgotten his hand on my shoulder. And an encouraging word when I needed it the most.

      Betty Sue Stuart was the prettiest girl in West Tennessee. We dated for the better part of three years. I was going to marry her for sure! We had such big plans. Our lifetime "dreams" made it through high school and almost a year of college. She stopped by at Easter to tell me it was over. She didn't bother with any details.

      It felt like a gunshot just below the solar plexus. I couldn't eat, sleep, think or make a coherent statement. Life, as I was ever going to know it, came to a screeching halt. I wasn't going back to college. There was no need. I didn't care. I spent the Easter break in a funk. This was depression upon depression! I was wondering if there were any local monasteries needing applicants when Dad shut the bedroom door. Folks, I sat up. The only time he ever closed that door was when the whipping was about to commence! How could I have riled him? I have been sitting back here all we- "Son, life doesn't always work the way we plan."

                Oh, no! I'm not going to listen to some lecture from my father. Especially from him! He's always been tough as nails but just because I'm down, he's going to come in here and gently and lovingly remind me of all the "fish in the sea"...

                "Daddy, I don't need-"

                "So here's what you are going to do. You are going to get up off of this bed. Clean up. Come to dinner. And rejoin the human race. You are going back to school after church tomorrow. Son, we didn't raise any quitters. We don't tolerate whining. Moping around feeling sorry for yourself is for idiots and losers! No one in this house has ever told you life was easy. But it is grand! You have to accept the bad with the good. And you've got to be man enough to handle both. Mother will have supper ready in ten minutes and you will be in your seat, smiling and enjoying the meal. We are through with this!"

                Well, maybe he wasn't so gentle. But he cared. And along about the third helping of brown beans I got to thinking, "you know, Mary Hadley Hayden is really the prettiest girl in West Tennessee..."

                In this perilous time that we are so constantly and forcefully reminded of I'm leaning less on congress, bilateral committees, CNN and the world trade deficit...and more on regular folks like Doug Paschall and Leon Colbert. Our strength has always been in our people. 

                Maybe we are looking for solutions in the wrong places...

               Respectfully,

                     Kes