Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
I've been offered an invitation to go camping... ----- Years ago, my wife and I got a deal on some camping equipment. We headed into the North Carolina mountains to a creek camp site and set up our fancy new tent and tried out our new gear. When night fell, we unpacked our fancy new sleeping bags that were rated to keep us warm well below that night’s low temperature, climbed in, and waited to get warm. And we waited. And we waited. Then we started shivering. Teeth began chattering. After an interminable amount of time, I asked my wife what time it was. “Ten PM,” she said. The night...
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What my wife and I saw on my recent business trip to a Bahamas resort was more than enough. ----- My wife and I spent four nights at a Bahamas resort on a business trip and here are my observations. Here’s what I saw. First, I remember hearing that most traffic accidents happen within five miles of the driver’s home. Seems inverse of what you’d expect. The reason? When you’re driving through your home territory, you’re so familiar with the roads, the traffic, the scenery and such that you let your guard down. The familiarity and the routine make you vulnerable to carelessness. When...
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My wife invited some friends to a birthday gathering and gave them two options... ------ My birthday was last week. Right now, my wife is inviting friends to dinner and asking them to come and either roast me or toast me and if I were this invitation, I know what I’d do. I’m not sure if it’s me and my friends or just males or just certain types of males, but I’d roast me. My friends and I constantly work hard to roast each other whenever we can. It’s savage exchange whenever we’re together. For example: When I walk into my gym the head trainer starts trash-talking me as soon as he...
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My mother died a year ago. Cleaning out her home office brought about some questions for my father and me as we gathered her things. ------ My mother died nearly one year ago today. It was March 5th, the day after my birthday. I think of her frequently. Last week, my wife, my daughter, and my son and I placed purple flowers on her headstone for her birthday. Purple was her favorite color. We bought a purple orchid on the way home to remind us of her and it’s now sitting in the kitchen window. Last week I said in an interview that doing these commentaries helps me process things, they...
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Embarrassing your children is a parent's obligation. It happened to me. I'm doing it to my kids. It's part of the contract. ------ Here’s a guaranteed way to embarrass your teenaged child. In a restaurant, say loudly where other diners are close enough to hear: “Your mother and I are going to a clothing optional resort in the Bahamas next week. It will be nice for us to get back in touch with each other.” My fifteen-year-old favorite youngest daughter flushed red, buried her face in her hands, and said over and over again “Please stop, Dad. Please stop.” Which is, for me, a big...
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"Keepin' It Real" is now broadcast on KXCR in Florence, Oregon. Larry Bloomfield invited me to be a guest on the station's "KXCR Conversations" to talk about the commentaries.
info_outlineKeepin' It Real with Cam Marston
The value of Mardi Gras beads peak when they're under no ownership. It's part of the silliness of my favorite time of year. --------- If you’re not listening in the deep south, you may not know that it’s Mardi Gras time for us derelicts and mystics living here on the top lip of the Gulf Coast. Ships from all over the world back in the day delivered a menagerie of people here where they threw their customs and traditions into one big gurgling pot and one of the results is Mardi Gras. The story I tell is that Mardi Gras was a time for people to dispose of food that would spoil during the...
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Thre are three types of people, he said, and my mind has been racing ever since. ------- In a Zoom call this week I chatted with another speaker for an upcoming conference. He and I want our messages complement each other and he offered some of his presentation highlights and one thing he said has rattled around in my head since our call. He said there are three types of people - and when he said this he was quoting someone else but I don’t remember who – he said there are fragile people who when pushed or dropped or damaged, they break. Once broken, they don’t heal. We all kinda know...
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There's a tale radio people tell about why they got into radio. Does it apply to me? Well... -------- A story I’ve heard about people in radio is that many of them share a similar childhood experience: They tried to get their parent’s attention but their parents shushed them – told them to be quiet – they’re trying to listen to the man on the radio. The children begin to think that whatever is coming through the radio speaker is more important than what they want to say and later, those children begin a career in radio to get their parents to listen to them. Is it true? I don’t...
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A friend's fortunes have turned... ----- I met with a friend yesterday. I haven’t seen or spoken to him much for the past six months. His business has exploded over the past three or four years. He’s a good guy, an honest guy. He’s created a niche product, the market found him and he’s grown it masterfully. Until he and his business partner got sideways with each other, and the last six months have been tough. Accusations. Finger pointing. He finally told his partner, “We have to split up or it may get violent.” They both lawyered up, money changed hands with both teams of lawyers...
info_outlineMy sons won their football game last Friday night in an upset giving parents like me one more game and...it's a home game.
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If you heard last week’s commentary, you might like to know that my sons’ football team won their playoff game in an upset in Montgomery Friday night. My favorite oldest son – a wide receiver – made a nice catch on a screen play and was tackled from behind by a savage mountain of a full-grown man. My son said it was a clean hit and was all good but…I can’t bring myself to like that guy. I’m going to have a hard time liking anyone that smashes my favorite oldest son to the ground. My wife and I both said, at nearly the same time, “Wow. He got walloped” and that’s because what we heard when my sweet little boy got hit by a mountain of a full-grown man sounded like WALLOP. My son bounced to his feet and trotted back to the huddle hoping the ball would come his way again. My wife and I sat frozen in the stands hoping it wouldn’t.
When they upset last week’s opponent, parents like me felt like we were awarded with a bonus week plus a home game. Like last week, this week could be the last game of their season and the last football game of my senior’s career. If tonight is the last game, it’s only fitting that it finishes on the field where the seniors began playing as children years ago. It was a while back but only a flash in my memory. Wearing their helmets, they looked like bobble head dolls.
A friend counsels professional and elite collegiate athletes on their transition from sports into the everyday world. When their careers end, many of them struggle with identity. Without sports, who am I, they ask? What do I do with my time? What’s my purpose? I fear for some of this with some of the kids on the field tonight. They’ve played this game on this team with these people since they were about eight years old. What happens when it’s over? Some will have no problems with the transition, eager and curious about their next chapter of life. Others will struggle to let it go. You see them today as adults, living vicariously through their children who are out there on the field. That identity must be a powerful hold. I was never an athlete so I can’t really relate.
However, I’m not immune. When my favorite oldest daughter played her final volleyball match, I sighed and then went on to the next in line. What happens when my favorite youngest son and favorite youngest daughter are done with sports? When they transition out? So much time has been spent cheering for them on the sidelines that I worry a little about myself. It’s become a part of my identity, too. Who will I become? What will I do with all this newfound time?
I don’t know. I guess acknowledging that an inevitable transition is ahead is valuable in and of itself. Until then, though, I’m all in.
Good luck tonight, boys. I love you both. I’ll be in the stands with many others just like me, screaming my head off, hoping for all of us that tonight won’t be the last night.
I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.