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Davis Young
- May 11, 2021

DY: In Just a Few Words (#30)

Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

In Athens - at the top of a hill known as the Acropolis and overlooking the city center - sits an historic site known as the Parthenon.

The Parthenon has been there since five centuries before the birth of Christ or, put another way, about 25 centuries before today. By contrast, New York City’s world famous Empire State Building was completed less than one century ago.

Open to the public, the Parthenon welcomes thousands of visitors each day (at least it did pre-COVID) to experience its beauty and the incredible views of Athens. There is only one caveat. You must climb the Acropolis to visit the Parthenon. There is no escalator. To go up is a choice. To come down is a requirement, as there is no Marriott or restaurant to sustain you at the top.

And so it was one day that my wife and I set out to make the climb. Some say it’s not difficult. I disagree. There are no consistent steps, no well-anchored handrails, nothing at all to grab onto. You are on your own traversing well-worn (aka slick) steps with a variety of inches in height, depth and width. Each one is different from the one before or the one coming up. They are smooth and can be very slippery with a little morning dew on the surface. How many of these steps are there? I didn’t count, but I assure you there are a whole bunch.

While inching my way up, I noticed a man ascending ahead of me. He was using two canes. It was obvious he was struggling. But, he plowed onward and upward, powering his way to the top. He wanted to see the Parthenon and nothing was going to stop him, not even a climb where anybody in perfect health could easily fall and be injured - much less someone with mobility issues.

Later that day, we were in the square that contains the Plaka, which is the old town Athens shopping area. I saw the man with the canes again. I caught his eye and he said, I think I recognize you. Are you from Cleveland? Talk about a small world. Two Clevelanders meeting for the first time in Greece.

I walked over and said, Yes, I am a Clevelander. I saw you going up and down the Acropolis this morning and I really respect how you just kept moving. That clearly wasn’t easy. He responded, No, it wasn’t. I have bone cancer. Learning that, I couldn’t believe he had been able to make it up and down. We talked for a few more minutes, then departed vowing to get together once we were back home. His name was Lou. We did see him again, this time at his home. Some time after that, we learned he had died.

I don’t tell you this story to make you sad. Rather, I hope it inspires you. When you’re facing a tough day or perhaps down in spirits, think of this man with two canes who got himself up and down a big hill to spend time seeing an historic site that was important to him. For me and I hope for you, that shows we can muster the energy and willpower to accomplish big things even in the face of adversity. When we don’t give up, we can reach higher than we might ever think possible.

I hope each of us reaches higher today in our own life. Live those words we hear so often - HAVE A GREAT DAY.

Just like my friend Lou did, keep on keepin’ on.

DY: In Just a Few Words is a blog that comes out when something needs to be said or every Tuesday - whichever comes first. Davis Young is a communications professional who adds 50+ years of experience and perspective to issues of the day. His emphasis in DY: In Just a Few Words will be humor (a touch of sarcasm here, a pinch of facetiousness there...). Once in a while, he will touch on something a bit more serious - but hopefully not too deep or depressing.

This blog is a product of DY Author & Speaker LLC. Feel free to quote content with attribution. Respond. Agree. Disagree. Share the content with your friends. Heck - even invite him as a speaker for your group! Enjoy!

Davis Young
- May 4, 2021

DY: In Just a Few Words (#29)

Turns out my life was NEVER in danger....

Have you ever been to Prescott, Arizona? Nice town. Very attractive.

I was in Phoenix several years ago on business when a day opened up on my schedule. What could I do to fill the unexpected gift of time? I’m a big fan of Sedona. I had been there before and I don’t think anyone can go to Sedona too many times. Talk about spectacular natural beauty. Wow!

So, I set off to Sedona. That’s a couple hours north of Phoenix on Interstate 17. Roughly halfway, I passed an exit for the town of Prescott and thought to myself that I’d make a quick re-acquaintance with Sedona, then double back to see what Prescott was all about.

Fast forward to early afternoon. I came upon the Prescott town square lined with shops and other small businesses. It is a really large town square. My first surprise was the big trees full of healthy leaves and the rich green grass throughout the square. They looked like what one would expect to see on a trip to the East Coast. No desert scrub in the town center.

There is a modest change in elevation from the bottom of the town square to the other end, just a few feet but enough of a change so that the entire square and the desert beyond come into full panoramic view.

After a quick lunch of something long forgotten but probably attention-getting at the time because it was full of southwestern green peppers, I went to the high end of the square to take it all in. Out on the desert I could see some activity that one would imagine to be a sand storm.

Big clouds of desert dust were slowly coming my way. In another few minutes I began to hear noise associated with the dust. The noise became louder and louder as the cloud moved ever closer. Finally, I saw a couple of motorcycles, then more and more. Eventually a huge group of motorcycles – I thought perhaps 300 – were descending on Prescott.

The people aboard those bikes were what you think of when you visualize what a pack of motorcyclists might look like. They wore identical t-shirts. It’s possible some of the shirts (and perhaps some of the riders) had never been washed. This situation did not give me great confidence. I remember thinking I’m too young to die. Where could I hide that these thugs would not find me? Would my nearby rental car have any chance to out-run them? I was trapped.

Soon, the gang was upon me and I was shocked to see what their not-too-clean t-shirts said: Riders for Christ. There I was a first-timer in Prescott, Arizona, in the midst of a Christian riding group. I could not have been safer.

It had been a very nervous few minutes, but I was going to live to see another day. This scary experience reinforced what I had been told all my life and it is this: You can’t tell a book by its cover.

I will never forget the Prescott town square. It’s waiting for you and your Harley hog.

Davis Young
- Apr 27, 2021

DY: In Just a Few Words (#28)

What more could a guy ask for....

Last week, our ever-expanding community of readers enjoyed the true story of the disappearing stripes the first time I wore a wonderful new business suit. Clearly, my sartorial splendor struck a nerve with many of you. For example, one went out of his way to come by and tell me he knew someone who experienced the very same result with a suit he had purchased from the very same discount clothier. And to think I thought I was special...

Here is this week’s clothing saga. I was more than pleasantly surprised nearly 50 years ago when my older brother said that - in response to a favor I had done for him - he was going to treat me to a custom-tailored cashmere sport coat fitted to my exact specifications by his long-time tailor Mike from Hong Kong. It seems that Mr. Mike would be coming to the United States soon on one of his regular trips to see important customers. I should expect a call from him when he would be coming through Ohio and setting up shop in a local Holiday Inn.

I mean, how can you beat cashmere? And to have someone come 7,923 miles across the Pacific Ocean to make sure this coat would fit me like a glove was a really exciting prospect.

Sometime that spring the phone rang and it was the global aficionado himself. (Aficionado is a very important word I learned from a Spanish friend. I try to use it as often as possible especially when I am telling an international story.) Hello, this is Mike from Hong Kong. I’ll be in Cleveland next week to measure you for a cashmere sport coat.

I am short, so it is easier and faster to measure me than if I were a strapping young customer with a ripped physique. But, Mr. Mike took plenty of time. One of my arms is a fraction longer than the other, so that impacts sleeve length. How much of your shirt would you like showing when the coat sleeve stops? That’s a critically important question. He measured me across the shoulders. He checked the specs across my chest and so on. To say he was meticulous is an understatement. He put all of the details on a yellow legal pad. In a few weeks your fine new cashmere sport coat will arrive. I thanked Mr. Mike profusely as I knew I was on the verge of receiving the bestest gift ever.

One night six or eight weeks later I came home from downtown, and lo and behold there was a package addressed to me. A lot of great things have happened to me over my lifetime. But this would be number one. What a wonderful brother to do this for me.

I opened the package with great care and took the sport coat out. First, I just admired it. I didn’t want to put it on yet. I just looked at it. Eventually, I worked up my courage and touched the cashmere. It was the best feeling ever. I was so happy I was almost crying.

Urged on by my wife, the moment of truth was upon me. I put it on. I then turned to my much better half and said, There must be some sort of mix-up.

The body of the sport coat was a bit long. In fact, it came down to my knees and was clearly intended for someone else. And the sleeves. Oh my, the sleeves were for somebody much smaller than me (and there aren’t many people who are). Somewhere in the creation of this magnificent sport coat, my information had gotten tangled up with another customer or perhaps two. What I received was basically a short-sleeve, full-length cashmere overcoat. The sleeves were intended for a customer in Pittsburgh and the body of the coat was for a man in Montana.

Even cashmere wears out over time. But this story doesn’t. My brother never did buy me another cashmere sport coat. As a result of this experience, I received extensive grief counseling and, after nearly 50 years, I am at last able to come to grips with what happened.

It was just a clerical error that caused all this, sort of the same type of mistake if you received a mis-filled prescription at your local pharmacy. But, that would be even worse because it might kill you. Receiving a short-sleeve, full-length cashmere overcoat is just one of life’s passing disappointments, but it won’t kill you.

Be patient. Mr. Mike may be coming to a Holiday Inn near you very soon.

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