Friends...Heroes

(One of the things I most want to do in this space is tell the stories of inspiring, interesting people.
Today, I'm going to re-produce one I reported and wrote a couple of years ago at the Atlanta Journal Constitution. Since I'm making no money on this site (yet, right??) I figure I can cut and paste and let you read it here, in case you missed it. But the AJC owns the copy write. I'll try to track these young men down and update the story if there is interest.)


Every school has a student who looks like Pope High School's Steve Kelley, easy to pick out, harder to really see.

Throughout the halls, "different" is the word most used to describe these kids. Or special. Or challenged. Or needy. The medical term, whatever it is, doesn't matter.

Likewise, every school has kids who look like Trey Clark, who roams the same Cobb County halls as Kelley. In a sea of moving bodies, they are harder to pick out, but easier to look at.

The worlds of a Steve and a Trey intersect every day at almost every school, usually with a casual nod of the head, sometimes with 15 seconds of charity-minded conversation, occasionally with a mean-spirited prank or insult.

Rarely do a Steve and a Trey become best friends.

Theirs is a story of one kid helping the other to find his place, one looking up to the other as a hero, both learning something from the other.

"Trey is my best friend. He's the best friend anyone could ever have because he is always there for me, " said Steve, who has a rare form of autism. "I always feel safe when I am with him. He's big. He won't let people say mean things to me. He takes me places that I can't go by myself. I have known Trey for a long time. I hope I will keep knowing him even when we are old."

Then hear Trey.

"I am proud to say that I am his friend, not the other way around, " he said. "Steve could make friends with anybody he wanted to, but he chose me."

So who's the hero of the story?

> > >

Steve's parents had a prayer for each of their three children, upon their birth. For Steve, the plea was from Luke 2:52, that he would "increase in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man."

A couple of weeks ago, the Pope High School student body elected Steve, 19, as Mr. Pope, the senior who best represents what the school stands for.

Steve's favor with man was affirmed.

But the almost-universal support that Steve enjoys now didn't come easily.

Knowing what is and isn't appropriate never came naturally to him. Neither did grasping academic assignments, getting them in on time or doing what it takes to be in position to graduate.

Socially, Trey, 18, taught Steve just by including him on outings. Academically, he tutored him weekly.

"I don't at all see Steve as a responsibility, " Trey said. "It's a friendship. It's normal. We talk about girls and sports. I try to help him with girls a little bit because he does get really nervous."

Steve sums up his relationship with his friend sweetly and succinctly.

"Since fifth grade, Trey and I have been best friends, " he said. "He takes me to football games, basketball games, baseball games, Taco Bell. He and others here have made me feel like they genuinely care for and love me and are willing to protect me."

The two were at a Pope basketball game last year --- one of Steve's favorite things to do.

It never mattered how good or bad Pope was, or whether he was watching the boys or girls play. He was the biggest, most vocal and most visible fan.

"We were playing Lassiter and they were chanting: 'What about Football. What about Football, ' because they had beaten us that year, " Trey said.

We started chanting: "S.A.T., S.A.T., " bragging on Pope's academic reputation.

"We were out in the parking lot, around some Lassiter kids, and Steve started chanting: "S.A.T., S.A.T. Not good."

Trey fits the mold of a protector. At 6-foot-1, 215 pounds, he lettered in football as a sophomore, playing tight end and defensive end. Two knee injuries have limited his play the last couple of years.

But even more than his size, his mom, Linda Clark, said it's his heart that really makes him a protector.

"Ever since he was little, he reached out to others in a very warm and loving way, " she said. "It doesn't surprise me that he developed this kind of relationship with Steve."

Nowadays, the two are constant companions. Trey is constantly telling Steve what to do --- not in a bossy way, but gently and quietly.

"Socially, he has no boundaries, " Steve's mom, Tootie Kelly, said of her son. "He doesn't get innuendo and has never heard a rhetorical question."

Like the day football coach Bob Swank asked his team, "What the heck are y'all doing?"

Steve, the team trainer, offered up an answer, to Trey's chagrin.

"I was like, 'Steve, man, not now.' "

> > >

It'd be a lie to say Trey has never done anything for Steve out of sympathy.

But it happened only once.

The two were casual buddies from fifth grade through ninth. At least that's what Trey thought.

Then Steve built up the nerve to invite Trey to join his family for an Easter tradition: attending a play, "The Passion of the Christ." For Steve, including an outsider was akin to a boy asking a girl out for a first date.

"As adults, we're thinking, please don't get your feelings hurt if another ninth-grade boy doesn't want to go with him and his grandmother to the 'Passion.' We were afraid he'd get laughed at or feelings hurt, " Tootie Kelley said.

Sure, Trey said. He'd go to "The Passion of the Christ" with Steve and his family.

"It's the only time I did something with Steve just to be nice, " Trey said. "It's never been about being nice to him since then."

The play inspired Trey, for sure. But it also caused him to see a deeper side of Steve. For whatever reason, it was a jumping-off point for the two.

Trey delivered a speech he had written for a school leadership project this year. It was titled "A Hero and a Friend."

"Our relationship took a giant step when I received a call in April of my freshman year from one of the best mothers I know, Tootie Kelley, " Trey wrote. "She began by telling me of a tradition Steve and his grandmother, also known as Nana, shared. Every year they will go to see the play 'The Passion of the Christ' and then head over to the Varsity.

"Going to that play on Palm Sunday is one of the best decisions I have ever made."

> > >

Trey plans on attending Auburn next fall. Steve hopes to go Chattahoochee Tech.

"No matter what, " Trey said, "I want him to always be able to call me, when I'm married, when he's married, wherever I live, I see us being close friends forever."

Steve doesn't even want to think about next fall.

"I'll be sad when he goes to college, " he said. "But I'm going to college, too. I'll be a fan of Auburn."

Who knows what Trey will be doing in 10 years, or where Steve will be.

Tootie Kelley knows that Steve likely will never drive a car and might not ever be totally independent. Trey will likely graduate from college and one day settle down with a family.

In other words, life happens. And best friends in high school don't always stay close friends.

But what has already happened, in Steve's life and in Trey's, can never be erased. Neither is the same person for having known the other.

Precious Declarations says...

"Precious declaration says, I believe all hope is dead no longer.
New meanings to the words I feed upon; wake within my veins elements of freedom.
Cant break now I've been living for this; wont break now I'm cleansed with hopefulness.
Once I jumped through hoops of fire; As high and far as you required
I was blind but now I see; Salvation has discovered me." -- Ed Roland, Collective Soul.

Amen, brother.
Does this not communicate an authenticity and freedom that we all long for?
To be cleansed with hopefulness, to no longer jump through hoops that others place in front of us, for clarity to see things as they really are, not simply as they seem. Cleansed. Freedom. Salvation.

I love Collective Soul's music. I look forward to the day when Ed and Dean come sit on my back patio, with their acoustic guitars, and we commune and fellowship, and together, we study the art of communication.

Check out bsanderscommunications.com

I didn't mean it that way...

What message did you communicate today?

I know, you probably expressed hundreds of thoughts and acted and reacted in at least that many ways. You communicated to your kids, your spouse, your boss, yourself, the dude in the car that cut you off this morning.

But isn't it true that more days than not, you have an over-riding message that you communicate to the world? If you are pissed off at the world, don't most people figure that out pretty quickly? The vibe you give off says: Stay away. Don't mess with me today. If that's the message you want to communicate -- and sometimes it is -- then that's fine. But it's probably worth a little consideration at the end of the day. Was I a good communicator today? If not, what message did I send my kids, or my employees that misrepresented the real me?

U2 at the Dome...and how it relates to business

When I say I didn't much care for the U2 concert in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago, I need to add a couple of caveats.

I was given a ticket by a good friend, and when you are given something of value, it's best not to complain about the perceived worth of the gift. Mike and I have seen Springsteen together several times, have gone to a couple of UGA games together and have known each other long enough that I think he'll understand the point I'm making.

Bono, the Edge, Adam Clayton, Larry Mullen Jr., God bless them all, but from the other side of the Georgia Dome, they simply were not engaging. The acoustics were not good, and the set list, in my opinion, was so-so. But that's not what really mattered to me. It's certainly not what makes me want to blog about it two weeks later.

Why was the one concert that I really wanted to see a bust to me? I wrestled with the question for a while, and here's what I came up with.

U2 didn't care about me. There was no relationship -- not even for two hours. Nothing seemed authentic, least of all the communication. It was a one-way street.

I don't know about you, but even at a concert with the biggest rock stars in the world, I want to feel as if I'm a part of things. I want to matter. For what it's worth, I want to be a tiny part of the show's success.

Where would you rather see U2 perform? The Georgia Dome or your cul-de-sac? My guess is you'd trade a bit of the glitz and flashiness and enormity that a stadium show offers for a little genuine intimacy and the assurance that you will matter.

Big isn't better than authentic. Performance isn't better than relationship.

Check me out at: bsanderscommunications.com

The Balloon Boy saga has, once again, shown journalists at their finest, and at their worst. Talk about a no-win situation!

For years, I worked in daily newspapers and nothing got the juices flowing more than a big, sexy breaking news story, which Balloon Boy's certainly seemed to be. And even now, as the investigation heats up, it remains a fascinating story -- an investigation into the psyche of those involved, an investigation into the cost of such a high-scale search, etc.

On Balloon Boy Day 1, I remember seeing, on CNN, Colorado TV reporter interviewing a 7-year-old friend of Falcon's. There was no way this was going to come off well, and it didn't. It was the type of journalism that makes us all, journalists and the rest of the world, cringe and think, "What are these people thinking?"
Is there any intelligent question to ask a 7-year-old boy who's friend might or might not be missing? Probably not. But here's a few I can promise you, because I saw them, didn't come off well:
"Is it scary that your friend might be in that balloon?"
Answer: Yes
"Will you miss your friend?"
Answer: yes
"So this is scary, right"
Answer: (This time me screaming at the TV: YES IT'S SCARY, YOU MORON. GO AWAY.)

Again, I know from tons of firsthand experience that stories like these, and most celebrity stories, can be no-win propositions for the reporters. Still, they don't have to make it that easy for us to cringe, right?

Nazis?...C'mon guys, this is PR 101

Neither The Southern Baptist Convention, nor Richard Land, bigwig within the convention, have asked me to take over their public relations effort.

So this is pro bono, a staple in my communication strategy toolbox: Don't bring up the Nazis.

Seriously, has there ever been a time when a Southern Baptist leader, or someone running for president, or someone from the Senate floor has compared a policy or a mainstream politician to Hitler or the SS Army or the Nazis, and come off looking good? (I say mainstream for lack of a better term. I realize there are some who would call themselves Nazis, so...)

But here's what Land said:
“I want to put it to you bluntly. What they (Obama administration) are attempting to do in healthcare, particularly in treating the elderly, is not something like what the Nazis did. It is precisely what the Nazis did.”

He went on to say he has bestowed on Dr. Ezekiel Emanuel, the president’s chief healthcare advisor, the “Dr. Josef Mengele Award” for his advocacy of healthcare rationing. Mengele was the German SS officer and medical doctor dubbed the “Angel of Death” for his role in the Holocaust.

Land later apologized.

"It was never my intention to equate the Obama administration's healthcare reform proposals with anything related to the Holocaust," Land wrote. "Now that I have had the opportunity to speak with you personally and reflect on my words, I deeply regret the reference to Dr. Josef Mengele."

I'd imagine Land does regret the words he chose. This isn't advanced Communications, folks. Just don't do it, then you won't have to apologize.

Be a storyteller...Yes, you!

Here in Atlanta, it has rained about a million inches the last month.

After being in a drought for a few years, we Atlantans know that a lack of rain can change the way you live your life. We're now learning that too much rain does the same thing.

We need the perfect amount of rain. Is that too much to ask? Let's say, we'll take a quarter of an inch, four nights a week, between midnight and 6 a.m. Then during the summer, in addition to those quarter-inch rains, we'll take an extra inch every other Sunday, a slow, cooling drizzle giving us a break from the 90-degree heat.

Well, that's just never going to happen. More times than not, rain is an inconvenience. But be it through the tragedies of the flooding, or the kindness of neighbors or the reasonable rates of a reliable handyman who doesn't mind getting on a roof, think about how many great, compelling stories have occurred. And the shame of it is that most of them have gone untold. Great stories don't have to be in newspapers, or in magazines, or on TV. Think like a storyteller. I bet just about every one of you have a story of pain or inspiration, love or laughter, kindness or caution. Go tell that story to someone. Or comment on it here. Just tell the story and do your part in saving the art of storytelling.

Storytelling your business

Hi, I'm Bill Sanders, and man, do I have a story to tell you!

Or...

Hi, I'm Bill Sanders with Company XYZ and I've prepared a report that I'm going to read for you. It includes pie charts and lots of cross references and citations.

Everyone loves a good story. Most do not like meetings at work. Why is that? Why is it that preachers tend to have us when they are telling a story, then lose us when they start preaching? Heck, why did Jesus teach his followers with parables? Because he wanted His audience to stay engaged, and He was on to the power of storytelling.

I promise that your business has a story to tell. You might need a little help identifying the story, then refining how to tell it. Once you have it, though, it'll be the finest communication tool you have.

Softball or a Smear?

What is it that makes your heart come alive? Asked another way, when are you your truest self?

For me, it's at Lost Mountain Park, more specifically, the five softball fields where my oldest daughter and I have grown up together.

I have friends who would rather have prostate and/or pap smear exams (OK, that should be just "or" as I have no friends who've had both) than coach kids' sports. And if I'm being honest, I've felt as if I'd been proctologized by a few parents from time to time, so I can't say that I totally blame those friends.

But who among us doesn't need to be invaded from time to time, taken out of our comfort zone and dressed down for the viewing world to see? By a parent who chooses not to take on the task? By a parent who is, for lack of a better word, a tool? Often times when it's really cold outside and you're missing a new episode of "House"?

So what is appealing to me about all this? I'm not really sure. I like the sport, but I can't say the intricacies of the game make me love it. I do love being a part of the girls' lives, but that sounds holier than Thou, even to me. And if it were just that, why not be a Girl Scout leader with hairy legs and a remarkably non-hairy head?

I like competing against other knucklehead dads, I like getting out of the house and I like hitting fly balls and sending girls from third to home, hoping the relay is mishandled or the slide is really, really good.

But I think more than any of that, it comes down to this: I've never been to the softball fields and not been glad that I was there. I can't say that about work, church, a neighbor's house or a restaurant. Even the times when my team has been beaten badly, or a parent has been highly rude, or the weather has been anything but spring-like, the good has outweighed the bad. I'll take that equation any time.