#!@$... a spelling mistake! Thank you for letting me know.

The following is the original and the rewrite can be found by clicking here.

I have been blogging in earnest for about two years now and my reasons are simple; articulate my expertise as someone who can solve Sales & Marketing problems and become a better writer. 

I will be the first to say I will never be a great writer, but I do believe I can be a good writer and maybe even a very good story teller; I've been encouraged to this end because when I look back at my body of work I can see improvement, and I've also been told by people I respect that I am getting better. 

With all of this said, the bane of my writing experience so far is proof reading, and by extension, spelling mistakes!

This point was illustrated in glorious fashion with a recent "re-post" on beBee entitled Never lose your sense of wonder, or in other words...  where a misspelled word slipped through... and worse still, the error was in the "title".  It seems that the word "lose", which means "to no longer have", changes to something completely different when you add an extra "o" and the word becomes "loose".

This is exactly what happened when I published the original post, and in effect asked people to Never "fasten tightly" your sense of wonder; I suppose the title would work if the subject matter was about never committing to a sense of wonder, but it wasn't... and worse still, I was oblivious to all of it. 

That was until two people let me know about my error. It was then I simply said to myself, "Ugh... I better fix this".

I have come a long way from internalizing this sort of thing, and using it to identify ability and self worth; I now just see it as a problem that needs to be rectified. I will admit it was really irritating and a glaring reminder to improve my proof reading ability, but three minutes later, with the rogue "o" removed and the proper meaning restored, I was happily back to my oblivious self.

With the mistake behind me, I could not help but turn to the fact that someone, more than one someone in fact, took the time to let me know that I had made a mistake. They did it with respect, and even a little concern that I may be upset that they had pointed it out; I was not, more to the contrary, I really appreciated it.

Is there a point here regarding getting better at proofing when you write or the value in learning from your mistakes... there sure is. However, what this experience has offered me was the opportunity to pause and appreciate those people who not only read what I write but take the time to engage, and help me become better at what I am doing. Maybe it is an aspect of beBee (the social media site I am on), or that people generally want to help, or possibly the "luck of the universe" was on my side that day... whatever the reason, I want to simply say, "Thank you".

And one last thing, until the end of my days, I will never confuse "Lose" and "Loose" again.

iamgpe

PS: Please let there be no spelling mistakes.

November is coming and with it, memories of football and cancer.

The following is the original and the rewrite can be found by clicking here.

Let's talk football for a moment... the North American type.

When the day comes for you to hang up the pads (and it always does), the next day you sign up to play "touch football". Touch football tends to embrace all the same rules as tackle football, minus the teeth rattling hits... well, in theory. I've played touch football for decades and always come back to one game that will stand out among the countless games I've played. The game went something like this.

The first game of the season was perfect... partly cloudy and crisp, with just a little wind. My defensive play was solid, particularly for the first game; as I leaped for an under thrown ball and saw my first interception of the season, "something went wrong".

What happened next is a recount from memory, and what my teammates told me after the fact.

The receiver, with an eye on that under thrown ball I spoke of, charged back with the intent to, at the very least, prevent the interception. The collision between our two bodies was "dramatic" and I was knocked back towards the ground with my right arm extended. As I watching myself hit the ground, the receiver proceeded to fall on me.

With the sound of whistles and players surrounding me, I clutched my right shoulder trying to become as small as possible to deal with the pain. Over the next ten minutes as I wrestled to get off the field, three classic "dumb ass" characteristics of being a guy were observed. 

Number One: As I lay on the ground fighting the pain and trying to understand my situation, someone came up and said, "That was a great defensive play man!" To this day, the comment and recognition is greatly appreciated.

Number Two: Somewhere in my mental haze I got it into my head that my shoulder was dislocated and there were at least two attempts where we tried to "pop" my shoulder back into place; just like in the movies. This of course was to no avail as my shoulder was very broken.

Number Three: When I was able to stand and slowly make my way off the field (dropping to one knee a number of times I might add), all I kept saying to myself was, "Whatever you do, don't cry".

X-rays revealed a rather bad break at the top of the humorous, and as I got used to the immobilizing sling I would wear for the next six weeks, I called my sister to ask if she could pick me up at the hospital. She said she would and I waited.

As we left the hospital, we laughed at the sight of the two of us... me with my newly minted broken shoulder, and her with a problematic knee that now had her using a cane. I realize now that this was the last time were really laughed.

Three days later my sister stood up at work and her femur snapped. 

Her stage four lung cancer had led to secondary bone cancer, which was so aggressive, it had weakened the bone to a point the femur could not support her own weight. My sister endured two leg surgeries, never got out of bed, had one round of chemotherapy that almost killed her, and fought every day for seven months, until on a cold February night, the cancer finally took everything away from her and she passed away. 

In those seven month my sister became my hero.

November is coming, and thanks to a pair of Australians, is affectionately becoming known as Movemeber; a month where men grow facial hair and formally support prostate cancer, as well as cancer awareness in general. My sister's situation is not unique... just ask around. You can always find someone who has a story about how this disease took everything away from someone. 

Battling cancer is about awareness, early detection and support. So gentlemen, with that said, please support the battle to beat cancer in our lifetime. Take advantage of the various facial hair styles available to you.

And ladies... for the gentlemen in your life, remember they sometimes just can't help being "dumb asses", so please encourage them to get regular checkups. And while you are at it, could you also encourage them to grow a little facial hair and spread the word that cancer touches all of us.

We can beat it.

iamgpe

"GOOD THING YOU LOOKED... YOU COULD BE DEAD!"

The following is the original and the rewrite can be found by clicking here.

I will admit I was shaking my head a little as I reached the curb; although to be honest the whole situation was nothing more than a fleeting moment in a busy day... that was until a driver pulling way from the pedestrian crosswalk and shouted, "GOOD THING YOU LOOKED... YOU COULD BE DEAD". 

I was struck a little by the lack of attention on the part of her driving, but this did get me to thinkin'.

I should mention that since I've been in the city I find myself walking everywhere, and to accommodate this activity, the city has very graciously set up pedestrian crosswalks; as you prepare to cross the road you push a big yellow button, then large amber lights begin to flash, all traffic comes to a swift and sudden halt, and you cross safely. An odd sense of power and control washes over you as you make your way to the other side.

On this day, the one that prompted the loud "drive by" commentary, I had pushed the yellow button, the amber lights started to flash and I noticed an approaching car wasn't going to stop (and as I suspected, didn't). I waited for it to pass and them proceeded to cross as the other cars waited patiently... I guess they weren't in as much of a hurry.

While I appreciate the fact that the driver recognized that not everyone obeys the crosswalk rules, I can't help but wonder why the driver would think I didn't have to look before I crossed the road. Maybe the loud "drive by" commentary was an act of frustration with all the bad drivers in the city, or a frustration with people who can't obey the rules, or maybe she just wanted to participate in the urban discussion.

I can't help shake the belief that's not it.

As far back as I can remember, I was always told to "look both ways before you cross the road"; not just me but everyone I knew... it was one of those golden rules of parenting, and in my house there was no way your independence would ever be achieved if this didn't become autonomic. Maybe deep down, I'm just a little offended on behalf of my parents that someone didn't think I was raised properly.

Admittedly, there is some truth to this, but that's not it either. 

I keep coming back to this feeling that the driver believed the flashing lights replaced my need to "look both ways before I cross the road"... a system and process had been put in place that would get me safely across the road with no worries. I will say that more than once I've seen people push the button, put their head down and walk into the crossing; if I had done this, the driver would have been right and I would be lying on the road.

For me, this is about a growing deference to ownership, and the belief it's someone else's responsibility.

Ya, that's it.

Maybe I am over reacting here... but then again, I COULD BE DEAD.

iamgpe.