Ageless Passions by Karen Putz

Author: Karen Putz

  • Tina Childress, Educational Audiologist

    Tell me about your job/career/calling. How did you get into this line of work?

    I am an audiologist with my specialty being educational audiology. I work in the mainstream and residential school settings supporting students, their families and staff. This involves duties such as diagnostic hearing evaluations, working with hearing aids/cochlear implants/assistive technology, participating in IEP meetings, providing informational workshops on how to work with students with hearing loss and being a resource to families.

    I got into this field by accident…I actually first went to college to become a computer engineer (hence, my love for all things gadgety) but didn’t feel it would be a good fit. I decided to take an elective that had nothing to do with engineering and it ended up being Sign Language. That class got me into the Speech and Hearing Science Building and introduced me to the world of Audiology. I loved the incorporation of my sign language skills, my passion for helping others, the science of hearing and use of technology into one career. Little did I know how ironic it would be that I would become an audiologist…

    What is the best part of your job, career, calling?

    Paying it forward! With my personal experiences as an audiologist who was late-deafened and is now a bilateral cochlear implant recipient, I have gone through various degrees of hearing loss, used hearing aids then cochlear implants, and have gone through the stages of grieving my hearing self. I feel like I can reach out to students and families and give them a glimpse of what’s POSSIBLE, not impossible. I have a passion for teaching, too, and am addicted to providing perhaps complex and technical information in an easy-to-understand and practical format whether that be in the form of a workshop, blog post or sharing my favorite links on the Internet.

    What are some of the challenges?

    Meetings with lots of people and listening in noisy situations are always hard situations. I compensate by either using effective communication strategies (e.g., going to a quiet place), using assistive technology or using sign language.

    I also get frustrated with lack of appropriate access to such places as a classroom, the workplace, captioning on the Internet, live theater or movies. It also peeves me when people think that one cookie-cutter solution is the right thing for ALL people with hearing loss.

    What was it like becoming deaf?

    Becoming deaf was like being on a roller coaster. Because my loss was rapidly progressive (I lost all of my hearing over a course of nine months), I never knew if I would wake up to a “good” hearing day or a “bad” one. After a while, they were all “bad”. Along the way, I have been surrounded by amazing people, like my co-workers and my family, who have taken my communication needs into account and make sure that I have access. My then-boyfriend-now-hubby took that first sign language class with me and we’ve been signing ever since! He was, and continues to be, my ears in a variety of situations.

    When I reached completely profound hearing loss, I realized that all of my communication depended on visual information – lipreading, sign language, text, etc. It was at that point that I decided to get my first cochlear implant…I didn’t want to miss anything! I decided to become a bilateral recipient five years later. I do very well with my cochlear implants and it’s always a testimony to the technology when someone sees me talking on my cellphone and then comes up to me later and says, “What?!? You’re DEAF?!? I never would have known!” Granted, I still have days when I need to get my CI program tweaked or I struggle in very noisy environments, but for the most part, I appreciate being able to navigate between the deaf/Deaf and hearing worlds. My motto is “It doesn’t matter HOW you communicate, just THAT you communicate!”

    I’ve also come to the realization that my identity is not merely dictated by my audiogram – it’s situational. When I am sitting at a restaurant with my Deaf friends, signing in ASL with voice off…I am Deaf. In the mornings as I’m blow drying my hair and my five-year old is trying to tell me something and my cochlear implants aren’t on yet…I am deaf. When I’m at a meeting and three people are talking at the same time and I’m trying to follow the conversation…I am hard of hearing. As I talk with my mom on my cellphone about my upcoming visit…I am hearing. I am not one of these identities (Deaf, deaf, hard of hearing, hearing). I am all of them.

    What advice would you give a deaf/HH person who is looking for a job, career or calling like yours?

    Being an audiologist with hearing loss means that you will have a unique empathy for working with your patients. You have walked in their shoes! Be careful though as you talk to patients that it remains about THEM and not about YOU. You can definitely use your experiences in counseling but remember that each person has their own unique needs and abilities and what may have worked for you, may not work for someone else. They will appreciate your insight and goes a long way for establishing rapport.

    Technology is your friend! Take advantage of things like FM systems in the booth or using interpreters or CART, as needed. Depending on your hearing ability, there may be some tasks that are difficult for you, like speech perception testing, but don’t be afraid to exhaust all possible ways of getting access.

    Be a good example as an advocate! This may mean making sure your professors understand your listening needs or handing an FM transmitter to a presenter at a professional conference or asking someone to repeat something that you did not hear.

    Explore the many facets to audiology. It’s not just about being in a booth all day – perhaps you want to do research, or focus on hearing conservation, or do aural rehabilitation.

    There are others that have already paved the way! There are facebook groups for the Association of Medical Professionals with Hearing Loss (https://www.facebook.com/#!/groups/amphl/) and the Association of Audiologists with Hearing Loss (https://www.facebook.com/#!/groups/114874958541349/). Feel free to ask questions about things like choosing a program, getting through school and what accommodations are successful in various settings.

  • Mom’s Night Inn, A Weekend of Connecting

    mom's night inn group picture

    When Andrea Marwah asked me to speak at the Illinois Hands & Voices Mom’s Night Inn this year, I happily agreed.  The Mom’s Night Inn weekend was like coming home all over again.  When I founded the non-profit organization back in 2003, we launched the annual Mom’s Night Inn, modeled after a similar retreat at Colorado Hands & Voices. Every year, the retreat continues to be a weekend of connection among the moms of deaf and hard of hearing children.  Andrea Marwah, the current president, has expanded the Mom’s Night Inn in central Illinois as well. There is still time to register for that: Mom’s Night Inn Central.

    mom's night inn group in circle

    This year’s theme was “Celebrating Their Gifts, Unleashing Your Child’s Potential” and the title of my presentation.  I shared my own journey of growing up hard of hearing, becoming deaf, and discovering the gifts that resulted from a paradigm shift in my perceptions.  I read an excerpt from Lee Woodruff’s book, “Perfectly Imperfect,” where she describes her deaf daughter as one with a different ability.  If you have not read her book, grab it.  Lee is an amazing writer and her book will grip your heart.  She has a new one coming out in September, 2012.

    Massages, crafts, discussions and chocolate, those are some of things the moms get to experience during the retreat.  Woven into those moments are the connections– the experience of sharing your personal journey with another mom.  It doesn’t matter where you are on the journey, or the choices you’ve made or the choices you are exploring– there’s the common bond of raising deaf and hard of hearing kids.  It’s a wonderful feeling to share the journey together.

    don't try so hard to fit in because you were born to stand out

    On Sunday, we had a panel of deaf and hard of hearing kids, from elementary to college age.  Ben Lachman also sat on the panel and shared his experience as a young adult and businessman.  Their experiences were as unique as their fingerprints.  As I sat there and watched each person share a glimpse of their journey, I’m reminded once again why so many of us across the Hands & Voices world volunteer our time with families: because every kid counts.

     

  • Being Ourselves: The Power of Vulnerability

    I woke up this morning tossing and turning.  On most mornings, I meditate and I do my “Grateful Prayer” to get me in the right frame of mind for each day.  But this morning, my mind fought me. I couldn’t shut out the negative bombardment that was popping up left and right. Things have been “off kilter” for me lately.  You know how a spinning top slows down and begins to wobble?  That’s me.

    So with a sigh, I got out of my warm bed and went downstairs to work on a presentation for Mom’s Night Inn.  But I checked into Facebook first.  And there, two of my favorite “Whole Hearted” friends, had posted a TED talk by Brene’ Brown.  I love TED talks, but I know they’re long and deep and I had a presentation that I needed to kick some butt on.  But when two of my “spiritually centered” friends post something, I listen up.

    And I’m glad I did.  Brene’ Brown is a researcher from Texas. I had actually been following her on Twitter for a while now but didn’t realize it.  Her TED talk is about vulnerability–the more we show the authentic, real, messy sides of us, the more we connect with others.  The more we take that plunge into courage and embrace the imperfections, the more we experience life and ourselves on a deeper level.

    “Believe that we’re enough. Because when we work from a place that says, ‘I’m enough,’ then we stop screaming and start listening.  We’re kinder and gentler to the people around us. And we’re kinder and gentler to ourselves.”

    Brene’, you could be my therapist any day!

    Well worth the watch:

  • The Badass Conference with Captions

    Have you seen the line up for the Badass Conference?

    Jon Morrow

    Tommy Walker

    Seth Godin

    Jonathan Fields

    Julien Smith

    Brian Clark
    And that’s just some of the folks who will be speaking at the Badass Conference on Thursday, January 26 and Friday, January 27 from 1 to 4 p.m. EST.  Everyone is donating their time and services, including SpeechText Access, a brand new company that is providing captioned access for the conference. Bill Graham, founder of ALDA, put this access together.  SpeechText Access is a company that trains people with disabilities and veterans to provide captioned access. Now keep in mind, the captioners are all new to this process and they’re donating their time, so we expect some blips along the way.    But it’s a start, and they’re blazing a new path in webinar access.

    Here are the conference details and to sign up: The one and only Badass Conference

    Now how about you. Are you badass?

    badass (bad · ass) n., pl -es 1. Someone who lives life free of any excuses they could make, no matter how legitimate those excuses may appear to be. 2. A person who doesn’t say “I can’t” even if everyone else is saying it. 3. A person who defines him- or herself by accomplishments, not limitations. 4. A person who realizes that there is always another way, and that almost nothing is impossible.



  • The Sunset I’ll Never Forget

    I was cleaning out my iPhone and I came across the photos that were taken the day of my Dad’s memorial.  For as long as I live, I will never forget that brilliant sunset that streaked across the sky when Jen and I went for a walk that day.  Perhaps I was just soaking in the energy of that day and my awareness was just heightened by a sense of loss, but I’m grateful for the gift of that masterpiece.

     

     

     

    And how appropriate is it that I came across this poem that I wrote in junior high, while cleaning out my desk today:

    A dash of red,

    Flames of fire,

    Smears of gold and

    The boldest yellow…

    Sunset.

     

    Colors,

    Dancing across the sky,

    To the last light

    Of fading gray…

    Darkness.

  • RaVen Sequoia, ASL Tutor

    Tell me about your job. How did you get into this line of work?

    I am an American Sign Language Master Tutor/Mentor and Evaluator for ASL VRS interpreters. I’m currently studying Language Hunter’s Techniques as we invent a lot of helpful techniques that enables learning any foreign languages quickly.

    By fate, I got into ASL Tutoring through a Deaf ASL teacher who noticed my potentials to teach. He made a huge impression in my life, planting a seed which paved my way to where I am today. After he died of aids, I vowed to become the best ASL teacher for individuals struggling to learn ASL – as with learning challenges I have, I truly understand what it’s like to be ignored in an overcrowded classroom. So, for years I’ve mentored numerous ASL teachers and attended many ASLTA workshops which gave me some clues to better my career. The rest I invented methods to jump start students to quickly grasp what was needed to learn.

    What is the best part of your job?

    I love seeing students who have failed in their ASL course and in one term, come back with a grade A average and seeing their faces lit up with joy. The same goes for any students who were shunned by other ASL teachers swearing they had no hope and I was able to help them understand ASL and become fluent over time.

    What are some of the challenges of your job?

    I guess the most challenging aspect of my tutoring job is technical issues. I’m still learning how to problem solve technical issues such as faulty connections with Skype, web-cam or a videophone, things along that nature. My second challenge is finding more ASL students to teach one on one.

    What was it like growing up deaf/hard of hearing?

    It was a very difficult childhood dealing with constant audism– oppression from hearing family, hearing teachers, hearing friends, hearing doctors, the entire hearing non-community. The older I got, the higher hearing people’s unrealistic expectations became increasingly burdensome. Thankfully one of my favorite teacher who truly understood my issue persuaded my family to let me go to Model Secondary School

    for the Deaf. It was then I learned to accept my Deafness with pride and embraced ASL Culture.

    What advice would you give a deaf/HH person who is looking for a career like yours?

    My advice is to learn all you can learn about American Sign Language – literally taking all of the ASL classes, ASL linguistics and workshops – even if you’re fluent already to understand how students learn. Always be brave to experiment with various methods that is not traditional – we’re here to serve hard working students who wish to master ASL. Accept the fact that there’s always room for improvement with your teaching ability. Learn from a master ASL tutor/mentor who has a high success rate of fluent ASLstudents to save you time, energy, and errors. Be patient and polite with your ASL students and have fun in your sessions.

    WWW.ASLmasterTutor.com

    Email: ASLmasterTutor@gmail.com

  • What I Learned from Physical Torture

    I heard horror stories about physical therapy so I was kind of dreading the whole process after my ACL reconstruction surgery. The first visit went pleasantly enough.  “Oh, it’s not too bad,” I told my family and friends after the initial knee manipulation.

    The second visit was a different story. I nearly jumped off the table when the therapist began massaging my incisions. One in particular was a bit swollen and extremely painful. “You shouldn’t be feeling this much pain,” the therapist said as she continued to press down on the incision. “Looks like you’re building up scar tissue. We have to work that out.” More pain. I held back a scream.

    Then there was the famous “bending of the knee.”  Despite repeated icing of the knee, mine remained swollen, making it even more difficult (and painful) to bend it. I was pretty darn proud of my 93 degree bend on the first visit.

    And then I was introduced to the bike. You know that contraption– it requires more than a 90 degree bend to get those pedals going ’round and ’round. I pushed the first pedal down and tried to bend the knee to bring it back up.

    Holy freaking moly! Pain! Worse than childbirth! (And I gave birth at home.)

    I looked at the therapist and whimpered.  “I don’t think I can do this.”

    “Just pedal slowly.”  She set a timer on the bike stand. “Nine minutes.”

    She stood there, watching me grimace in pain as I brought the pedal up. I felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to the knee every time I reached the top. I made it up and over, but not without shifting my hip up and riding on my other foot.

    “Good!  Do it again!”

    There was no way out. I just closed my eyes and tried to get into that zone– the same zone that comes from hypnotherapy. The breathing. The visualization. The knee screamed with every pedal rotation.  There was no way out of the pain– only through it.

    Just two minutes into the physical torture on the bike, I noticed a big shift in the pain level. By the end of the nine minutes, the knee was moving ’round and ’round at a much more manageable pain level.

    On the next visit, I had a friendly little competition going with the teenager on the table next to me. She had the same surgery a day before mine. So we gripped our green straps and pulled our knees back, trying not to grimace as our therapists measured our progress. I managed to reach 112 degrees, but the young one hit 115 degrees of bend.

    After spending the entire weekend icing the knee, I figured I would hit those numbers easy at the next therapy session.  “107 degrees,” the therapist announced.

    “You gotta be kidding me!” I said. “What number should I be at by now?”

    “I’d like to see 120.”

    “Fine, you want 120? I’ll give you 120.”  It took several tries and a lot swearing inside my head, but I hit that magical number.

    The body’s first instinct with pain is to react and withdraw. To get far away as possible from pain. To not have to feel it. But ironically, to heal from anything, to give birth to something new, pain is a necessary component to growth.  This applies to just about anything in life.

    Physical therapy is like life. The only way to heal, to rebirth, to move on– is by working through the pain that’s holding you back.

    “We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.”   –Kenji Miyazawa

  • Deaf and Barefooting Worlds Collide

    Four years ago, Jodi Cutler and I connected in the blogosphere as parents of deaf/hard of hearing kids and bloggers.  Her blog,  An American Mom in Tuscany: Jordan’s Cochlear Implant Story chronicles her life in Italy with her son, Jordan.  After years of connecting via the written word, I gave her a call and we talked on the phone for the first time.  The ZVRS interpreter had amazing skills and the conversation flowed smoothly.  I was so excited to finally connect with Jodi via phone.

    After we ended our conversation, I quickly thanked the interpreter and was about to hang up.  “Wait, don’t hang up!” she signed.  “Are you a barefooter?”

    “Yup!” I said. I figured she must have read my story in the media in the past year.  She pointed to a picture that was propped up on a desk behind me.  “I recognized Keith St. Onge!” she said.  “He taught me ten years ago in a clinic in Ohio!”

    Deaf World.  Barefooting World.  Bam!

    Jess and I skyped one night and she shared her story.  Jess was in fourth grade when her father bought a Ski Nautique and he taught her to water ski. Her father grew up on the Ohio river and he loved hamming it up on the water.  “He could ski on a paddle!” Jess said.  A year later, they saw a guy barefooting and Jess was fascinated.  “I want to learn that!” she told her dad.  So he went over and asked the guy to teach her.  Gripping the boom outfitted in a long-sleeve wetsuit with a vest on top, Jess put her feet on the water and skied away.  “I thought it was the coolest thing!”

    And boy, was she hooked.  Her parents bought property on a private lake.  Jess wanted to learn more, so she taught herself.  In the mid-1990s, she pulled up video after video of Keith St. Onge on the Barefoot Central website and watched them over and over.  She learned the deep water start off the five-foot line through a lot of trial and error.  Jess became friends with another barefooter on the lake, Ron Kara, who trained with Keith in Florida.  “Ron taught me to barefoot backwards, I think in ninth grade,” said Jess. “I struggled with backwards– I couldn’t get my chest off the water.  I ended up bleeding and bruised, but I wouldn’t give up.”  It took Jess a year, but when she finally got up backwards on her feet, it was a sweet achievement.

    Jess joined the Sea World ski show in Ohio when she was sixteen.  Barefooting in a ski show was a whole other form of barefooting– Jess had to get used to skiing in all kinds of water and weather conditions.  Ron brought Keith to Ohio, and he worked with Jess to improve her skills.

    One day, after Sea World practice, Jess was sitting on a bench waiting for her father to pick her up.  She noticed a girl sitting next to her and began to make conversation.  The girl pointed to her ear and shook her head.  “I realized she was deaf, so I remembered some sign language that I learned in second grade and signed to her,” said Jess.  Hi, my name is Jess, she signed and fingerspelled.

    That encounter unwrapped another passion for Jess.  She wanted to learn American Sign Language so she signed up for a class.  After high school, she went to the University of Pittsburg and then transferred to McDaniel in Maryland.  She graduated with a degree in Deaf Education, with minors in education, deaf studies and art history.  “I’m an overachiever,” Jess chuckled.  After teaching in a public school, Jess realized that she wanted to work in a one-on-one setting, so she decided to pursue a Masters in counseling at Gallaudet University, where classes are taught in American Sign Language. She now has her own private practice: Counseling for Children and Young Adults.

    “I stopped barefooting in college, but that summer, I wanted to get back into it,” said Jess.   Her father did some research and located Dave Miller, a competitive barefooter near the D.C./Virginia area.  Jess got back on the water in 2005 and continued to improve her skills.

    I was so thrilled to connect with Jess and invited her to ski at the World Barefoot Center Women’s Barefoot week next year.  An interpreter who barefoots– wow, that’s a path connected by a higher power!  After we ended our skype conversation, I was thankful for one thing:  my procrastination, project-to-project jumping, and disorganization. My nickname may be Skippy because of that, but if I had nailed that picture on another wall like I intended to do weeks ago, I would have hung up on that phone call without two worlds colliding.

  • Happy Birthday Diego: The Honor of Attending a Birth

    Diego is two today, but the memories of his birth are as fresh as ever!  Happy birthday Diego!

    For six long days, Juliet’s labor started on and off. Every night, I tucked my phone under my pillow, waiting for the vibration that would signal the real deal. On Mon., Dec. 21, the phone sprang into action and I awoke at 6:30 a.m. to a text saying that the contractions were pretty strong and that the midwife was on her way over. We agreed to wait until the midwife arrived and then see if I should be on my way.

    Juliet and I met a few years back, when her daughter, Paula, was a toddler. I worked as a deaf mentor in the state’s early intervention program and provided mentoring services to her family, teaching sign language and answering questions about growing up hard of hearing and becoming deaf. Juliet and I connected in more ways than one – we both shared a love of writing and an interest in natural birth. When Juliet became pregnant with her second baby, I casually offered to be a doula for her. She took me up on the offer. We met for lunch and discussed her plans for the upcoming birth.

    Years ago, I studied to become a doula with the intention of making a career out of it. I had the honor of attending several births, including an amazing home water birth where the midwife walked in as the mom was pushing. My third child was born at home, but since I was induced with Cytotec, his birth wasn’t quite the “natural” birth that I had anticipated. I later went on to write an article for Midwifery Today about the dangers of Cytotec and a chapter in the book, “Don’t Cut Me Again.” As the years progressed, the idea of becoming a full-time doula took a back seat to my other jobs.

    I was looking forward to attending Juliet’s homebirth that morning, but she soon texted to say that the contractions had stopped completely. At 4 p.m., her water broke. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the ingredients for the soup that I planned to make and headed out into the rush hour. I figured it would take me an hour to get there, but the cars in front of me moved aside and let me pass.

    When I arrived, Juliet was in the middle of hard labor but still smiling and talking. Joel, her husband, was holding her and rocking her back and forth. I took one look at Juliet’s legs and ankles- she was retaining quite a bit of water and her skin looked as if it would burst. I sat down to massage her legs and feet and get some of the swelling down. Paula was bouncing back and forth between the rooms, stopping to rub Juliet’s shoulder and then running off to watch a movie in her room.

    “Are you excited about meeting your baby brother or sister?” I signed.

    “Yes, I am!”

    Paula chattered and signed and moved in circles, going from her parent’s bedroom and back in to her own. I could literally feel the excitement radiating from her. She furrowed her brow when the contractions came in waves and Juliet vocalized her pain, but quickly smiled when we reassured her that everything was moving along as it should.

    The labor slowed a bit. During that time, Juliet’s husband stayed with her and I read a few books to Paula. After a while, I joined the midwife and her apprentice in the living room as we waited for labor to speed up again. The soup was cooking slowly on the stove and we helped ourselves to some dinner.

    Juliet was incredibly tired from the six days of on and off labor and it was beginning to show on her face. She pushed in several different positions, trying to get rid of the lip that was stubbornly hanging on. She moved to the birth stool and slowly, the baby began moving down. It wasn’t quite fast enough for Juliet.

    “Tell me you’re feeling some ears!” she said to the midwife. “You better be feeling ears!” The midwife laughed.

    Juliet moved back to the bed. Joel held up one leg and I held the other and everyone gave some encouraging words. Juliet threw herself into every push, finding energy deep down for each one. “That was a good one!” the midwife said. I looked down and saw the baby’s head begin to appear.

    “Juliet! Feel your baby! Your baby is being born!” I said. Juliet reached down and then gave a huge push. The head. Another push. The shoulders. Several more pushes. Then a whole baby.

    Diego Ruben, at a hefty 8 pounds, 6 ounces, entered the world at 9:40 p.m. on December 21st. The winter solstice, a day that signifies the birth of winter and the longest night.

    What a beautiful night.

  • EntreLeadership: A Playbook for Life

    When Dave Ramsey’s signed copy of EntreLeadership arrived in the mail, I settled down for the night and figured I would read a few pages.  Two hours later, it was one a.m. when I turned out the light.  Yup, the book captivated me right from the start.  Bill Kybels, a senior pastor from Willow Creek Church, summed up my feelings about the book:

    “I love this book! One minute Dave sounds like a Harvard prof, and the next minute he is coming at you like an alley fighter!  Either way you will wind up being a better leader.”

    You cannot lead without passion,  Dave writes.   How true this is.  The most successful leaders are driven by passion, and it is this passion that sustains them year after year.  After reading the chapter on passion, I immediately thought of Hands & Voices. When I first joined this parent-driven organization, there were just three chapters. I agreed to start the fourth chapter– only because I saw the passion that burned in the eyes of Leeanne Seaver and Janet DesGeorges.  Their passion mirrored my own, and I knew I found a home in this organization.  If there’s a testimonial to the power of passion that leads, then Hands & Voices embodies it.  In less than ten years, we went from a handful of chapters to world wide.

    But back to the book.  At first glance, one might simply think this is a business book about leadership, nothing more.  At first, I wondered what I might get out of it– after all, I’m a mom, a writer, an early intervention provider and a board member.  But then I remembered that I’m also a Send Out Cards distributor, and hello… that’s a business.  And since I’m at the beginning of it all, I’m where Dave was back when he set up a card table in his living room.  Dave calls this his playbook, in fact, he calls this a “championship playbook for business.”  But I find that definition to be too narrow.  When I turned the last page of this book, I realized it was so much more than just about leadership in business. It was in fact, a playbook for life.

    Throughout the whole book, I found myself underlining bits of wisdom that I could apply to every day life.  One of my favorites: “You are never too old. You are never the wrong color. You are never too disabled. You are never the wrong political party. There is never a big enough obstacle to keep a person with passion operating in a higher calling from winning. ”  Good stuff.  And it applies to anything in life.

    You know what else I liked about this book? Dave opens up wide about the mistakes he made along the way and shows how he evolved as a leader.  How many times have we placed someone on a pedestal and thought to ourselves, “I’m not like them, they’re so successful, so good at what they do, I could never get to where they are.”  So we don’t even bother to try. We don’t push ourselves and test our limits, because we’re measuring ourselves against someone who has paid the price to get where they are today.

    Not only is Dave a great leader, but he happens to be a barefoot water skier as well.  Deep into the book, in a chapter about recognizing others, he shares a tidbit about Keith St. Onge, the two-time World Barefoot Champion:

    “Because of our success and the media I do, I have been blessed to meet many famous and world-class people.  A few years ago I met and became friends with the world champion in a particular sport.  I was a little worried that he would be arrogant and instead he was gentle, kind, polite, and an amazing athlete.  As we talked late one night at my kitchen table he told me of the untold hours and sacrifice his father had gone through to help him train through his teenage years.  He humbly attributed his world champion status to his dad’s encouragement and sacrifice.”

    Without Keith knowing, Dave sent a two-page letter to his parents, Claude and Jackie, sharing what he observed from working with Keith and thanking them for being great parents.  “I was totally emotional reading it,” said Claude. “Having Dave compliment our son and us– well, I had tears of joy. I read it more than once.”

    “When I got that letter, I felt so proud,” said Jackie.  “For a long time, I didn’t feel that I had anything to do with his success. I was grateful that Dave took the time to share what he thought about Keith, that he expressed his feelings in a letter to us.”

    The ripple of that letter goes on.  When I first read a copy of Dave’s letter to Keith’s parents a year ago, I started to become more aware of how I could recognize and honor others in my life.  I sent out cards, letters and emails and took more time to acknowledge the impact of those I’ve crossed paths with. And that’s what EntreLeadership will do for you– it’s not just a playbook for businesses, it’s a playbook for life.  Dave ends the book saying, “Go make a difference in the way business is conducted.”  But you won’t change just the way you conduct business, you’ll change the way you journey through life.