Author Chris Brady's Blog

Leadership Lessons from the Age of Fighting Sail

With just about the lowest amount of fanfare possible, my new book Leadership Lessons from the Age of Fighting Sail was released this month. I have been so busy with my duties at Life Leadership that I was able to give exactly zero thought to the launch and promotion of this book. My efforts in that direction will probably involve nothing more than this blog post.

Therefore, since this is the only crack I'm taking at shamelessly promoting my own work, I thought it might be appropriate to give just a little background into how the book came into existence.

Over ten years ago I received a piece of junk mail that actually caught my eye. I have no idea why it came to me, or why it grabbed my attention, but there I stood in my kitchen amid the normal frenzied paper-pitching that takes place when sorting the mail into piles of bills, more bills, junk, and more junk. It was a mass market catalogue of various books for sale. Toward the center was a section featuring the novels of Patrick O'Brian, the English novelist who by that time had received worldwide acclaim for his "Aubrey-Maturin" series of historical fictions. His popularity, however, had not until that point reached me. I had never even heard of him. But the descriptions of the books, the many testimonials by avid readers, and the wonderful paintings of ships at sea and in pitched battles among tumultuous waves (painted, I later learned, by Geoff Hunt), made me decide to order the first book in the series and give it a read.

I was blown away (sorry, my love for puns is well known to all three of my fans).

Master and Commander, the first book in a series of twenty, was singularly excellent. Geographically precise, historically accurate, botanically and medically expert, and nautically steeped, the biggest draw was the depth and reality of the main characters. I quickly fell deep into the classic genre of the "buddy story." As I continued to read through the remaining twenty volumes over the next many years (intentionally going slowly to deepen the enjoyment), I would often find myself between books wondering what those characters were doing at the moment! They seemed so real as to be existing somewhere simultaneous to me.

And just like that my interest in a particular period of history (the span from the Spanish Armada in 1588 to roughly the end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815) was born. As a result, I began reading extensively on the history of the period and the details of wooden, square-rigged sailing ships, and soon discovered that O'Brian was a master historian as well as a novelist. The settings, events, and environment captured in his novels were intimidatingly accurate. In my reading of the straight history books of the period, I was exposed to colorful real-life figures and immense examples of the leadership principles I teach every day in my work, applied against a most interesting backdrop. It wasn't long before I began highlighting these examples in a manuscript of my own.

I raced through the creation of nine or ten chapters during the course of about the first two years. But as it often does, life intervened with other responsibilities and distractions, and soon work on the project slowed first to a crawl, and then to a stop. The book was dead in a drawer (or, more accurately, a Word file).

From time to time I would dust it off (open the file on my laptop) and begin once again with the greatest of intentions to finish a work that had begun amidst fire and passion. But the embers wouldn't rekindle and eventually, I gave up. In my mind, as I wrote other books, started companies, and built businesses, my little pet project all but died stillborn.

Recently, however, I determined to resurrect it, quickly discovering that a work once laid aside is not the easiest thing to pick back up again. I wrestled and wrestled, stopped and wrote another book, and then made one final push to bring this one back to life. The difficulty stemmed from the massive amount of research required in order to write almost every sentence. I quickly gained respect for writers of history. And slowly but surely, my love of the subject matter refueled my determination to extract the image I'd always had of the finished product out of my head and affix it to the page. Chapters were rewritten, some were discarded, examples were rearranged, and by the end, I was becoming as proud of this work as any I'd done before. The characters had come back to life, the battles rang again in my ears, and the wind and waves spoke to me all over again.

It is my sincerest hope that they will do the same for the reader.

This book, tougher than all my others to create, is now out there for you to experience. May it bring you as much joy in the reading as it ultimately did me in the writing. I know, that in putting together these true illustrations of incredible leadership examples, that in the process I also became a better leader. I hope that you do, as well. (I have posted the Preface below)

God bless!

Chris Brady

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PREFACE to Leadership Lessons from the Age of Fighting Sail

You’re cold. The salty wind bites right through your thick wool coat, and even finds its way past your waist coat. You hold your hat firmly to your head and squint at the gray horizon, thinking that your eyes aren’t as sharp as they used to be. The deck pitches beneath you but you barely notice, and your ears picking up the sound of the wind in the rigging subconsciously tell you that everything is trimmed just as you like. The ship, the sails, the weapons below deck, the wind, the waves, navigation, stores, it’s all part of your natural environment, it’s all a matter of course for you. You manage them all with the cool proficiency that comes only with years of experience. 

You know, however, that there is way more to victory than proficient management. You know this well. As you stare at the bodies swarming up the ratlines and around the myriad of obstacles on deck, you think of the crew. It’s the men, and the leadership they follow, that makes all the difference. As if on cue with your thoughts, one of them breaks the silence and stands at attention in front of you, rain dripping from his whiskers. “Orders, sir?”

You are in command. Your job is so challenging, so complex, so never-ending that most people could never come close to understanding the load you carry. You are thrust into impossible situations with little time and usually even less information upon which to make a decision. And you are entirely responsible for the outcomes, good or bad. You will be subject to critical analysis and scrutiny from people not engaged in the heat of the moment, not under the pressure of responsibility, and not in your boots. They will pick you apart and be quick to judge every little thing you do.  But that’s leadership, you think.  It’s what you love.

“Orders, sir?” the man repeats, and you detect a measure of impatience or panic in his voice. He needs your decision, and he needs it now. Everyone aboard is waiting for it, counting on it, depending on it to be right. And as always, there is no time to lose.

You make your choice, and pray that it’s right. Then you do all in your power to make it right, knowing that there is no turning back. In sum, you do what is expected of you; what you expect from yourself – you lead!

 

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What We Can Learn from the Painter of Light

There is much to learn from everyone. In particular, when someone has achieved phenomenal results in life, much can be gained from a study of their triumphs and tragedies. Over the course of the past 18 months, I have been consistently studying the lives of many different high achievers. These have ranged from musicians and entrepreneurs, to sports stars and inventors. Much of what I've uncovered has been produced by Life in their popular Launching a Leadership Revolution subscription series. I would like to thank the many customers who have provided kind reviews on this material. I am truly glad that you've found it not only interesting, but helpful.

One of the more fascinating characters I've studied is the record-shattering painter, Thomas Kinkade. His life was filled with tremendous success, but also some colossal blunders. What follows is the first in a series of quick video snippets of my delivery of some of this information in front of a live audience. I cannot even remember where this particular talk was given, and I have no explanation for the jungle motif behind me. If you can take your eyes off of the poisonous plants long enough to pay attention to what's being said, I think you might find a nugget or two to help you in your own leadership journey.

 May you prosper and serve!

Sincerely,

Chris Brady

Hauling Ice

In the early 1800s a boy named Frederic Tudor was on a trip to Havana, Cuba and had a thought. As he stood in the sweltering sun he wondered if people there would be interested in a cold drink. This little insight stuck with Tudor and he would grow up to pioneer the shipping of New England ice on wooden ships to places as far away as Calcutta, India.

This was not as difficult as it may at first seem. Ice, when packed together in large quantity and kept out of the sun, actually melts very slowly. When covered with sawdust it can last even longer. In large enough tonnage, according to author William Bernstein, Tudor discovered that as much as two thirds of his original cargo could arrive in India still frozen. Innovations were even made to this process, such as the shipping of uniform blocks of ice. These were easier to stack and arrange as ballast in a ship's hull.

Along several of these shipping routes, perishable fruits were packed on the ice and transported where they could be eaten "out of season:" apples taken south and bananas taken north, for instance. However, this idea was not really utilized much, and for some reason Tudor would continue to consider the shipping of ice his main business throughout his life. The much larger business of refrigerated shipping, technically "invented" by Tudor, would be developed upon by others. This huge breakthrough was literally right under Tudor's nose the whole time. He hadn't exactly missed it, he simply didn't capitalize on it. Instead, he began speculating on coffee futures and other diversions.

This story makes one think about the Japanese VCR manufacturers fighting over tape formats while the real money was being made on movies, or IBM missing the trend to PC's even though they were the world's leader in computers at the time. Or even simpler; Mark Twain squandering his fortune multiple times upon get-rich-quick inventions and investments when he could literally create wealth with his pen.

What explains the occurrence of huge ideas being missed because those involved were occupied with the smaller ones that lead up to it?

Why do so many who begin to succeed get distracted and allow their focus to be dissipated on lesser pursuits?

Why is good such a distraction from great? 

And more important still: what big breakthrough is lurking just outside your current scope of operations?

What have you implemented or pioneered that is good but not great? Or is a step toward something bigger?

What could you be missing?

These are the kinds of questions that should send chills up any true leader's spine, because, although this may sound cold - anything less is merely hauling ice!

 

Sprezzatura - Excellence Made to Look Easy

Count Baldassare Castiglione, in the 15th century in Il Libro del Cortegiano (The Book of the Courtier) wrote about a concept packed into the Italian word: sprezzatura.  Officially meaning nonchalance, Castiglione took the definition of sprezzatura a bit further, explaining that the best courtier, or gentleman, was capable of incredible adroitness at things, but yet at the same time could make them look effortless. This casual excellence was seen as one of the requirements of the upper class, and in particular, for the Italian reputation.

This concept reminds me of modern day professional athletes who make their sports look so easy one would almost think anyone could perform them accordingly. Once, way back in my snot-nosed motocross days, I had that impression after watching the professional racers in a stadium Supercross event. The following year I was down on the track to try it for myself and quickly found that the professionals had made their craft look extremely easy! I stumbled around, crashed, and burned several times as I rapidly grew in my respect for these inhuman men who could make their bikes do such seemingly simple maneuvers in front of flashing cameras and screaming fans.

The more I have thought about this concept of adroitness made to look easy, the more I have come to realize that mastery usually looks fun. The best performers always make their tasks seem easy, obvious, and enjoyable.

One great example of this is Benjamin Franklin. In his case his casual and affable conduct mixed with his mastery to the point where he even fostered enemies who accused him of laziness - in other words, he made it look so easy they thought he wasn't even doing anything!

Ben Franklin had an interesting life. I like to think of it as being lived out in three distinct phases: first was his early entrepreneurialism and writing. Second came his scientific and inventive exploits. Third was his statesmanship.

It is in this third stage where he particularly demonstrated what Castiglione would readily call sprezzatura. Franklin, who had spent the better part of his "second phase" living in England as an ambassador for the colonies to the mother country, would then be sent to France at the start of the American Revolutionary War. His task was simple enough to describe but nearly impossible to accomplish: convince the King of France to support the colonies in their rebellion against the King of England. This would involve money (what doesn't?), munitions, clothing, food, and even ships and men. The reason this task was so daunting was because at that moment France was not at war with England. Doubly, what the rebellious colonies were actually doing was warring against a monarchy, of which France was a particular example of one!

So off sails Franklin across the Atlantic once again with little more than his scientific reputation as a foot in the door at the great court of King Louis XVI. He is representing a band of thirteen colonies which aren't even a country. He cannot be officially recognized as an ambassador, because his home "nation" hasn't even been recognized as such. The diplomatic challenges were immense. The risks for France were grave. The costs of what Franklin was attempting to obtain were enormous. The spies and opposition from England were prolific and proficient. Incredibly, however, the young colonies of North America had sent perhaps the only man capable of pulling off the miracle.

Franklin was to work with two other colonials, Silas Deane and Arthur Lee, two men who would quickly set to feuding with each other and then Franklin. At one point Silas Deane was recalled to the colonies where he then proceeded to trash Franklin's reputation and ability to everyone and anyone who would listen. Deane was replaced by John Adams, a man whom Franklin had had previous dealings. Both Franklin and Adams expected the arrangement to work well, but that didn't turn out to be the case. Adams too would become a very vicious critic of Franklin's ineptness, at first confining his vitriol to letters, and finally haranguing Franklin openly and bitterly. 

There were other difficulties for Franklin. For one, other colonies sent over their own individual commissioners to pester the court of Louis XVI and did nothing but muddy the waters. Additionally, his own household was fraught with English spies. Further, his own grandson (just seventeen years old) was forced into service as his only secretary, and was never really compensated for eight years of dedicated service. Franklin even had terribly painful bouts with gout, attacks that often left him immobile and incapable of going out. 

So besieged by enemies from within and without, hampered by an almost non-existent staff, set in the middle of constant bickering by his supposed teammates, and wracked with health challenges,Franklin went about his task. He quickly won over France's chief minister Vergennes and built a personal relationship that was to become the hinge point of the entire French war effort. Some of the early colonial victories at Trenton and Saratoga helped legitimize the rebel cause, but progress was slow and required the most masterful diplomacy to move forward even an inch.

Then things progressed from bad to worse. The British took Charleston from the colonies. The Continental Dollar was devalued by overprinting (sound familiar?) down from 40 to 1! A massive feud developed between naval commanders in which Franklin had to constantly mediate, and it cost over a year of time for getting much needed supplies to Washington's army (and Franklin himself was blamed for this). And to top it all off, John Adams wrote some extremely nasty things about Franklin:

"The history of our revolution will be one continued lie from one end to the other. The essence of the whole will be that Dr Franklin's electrical rod smote the Earth and out sprung George Washington. That Franklin electrified him with his rod - and thence forward these two conducted all the policy, negotiation, legislatures, and war."

At one point Vergennes became so exasperated with the Americans as to almost lose hope for the cause in which he had so extended himself. Wrote Stacy Schiff, "Vergennes deplored American infighting, his allies' obsessions with their personal affairs seemed to take priority over their independence." (Again, does any of this sound familiar?) But the bad news would not stop coming. Horatio Gates, the top colonial general in the south, suffered a string of embarrassing defeats and had to be replaced. Next, Benedict Arnold famously became a traitor and attempted to entrap and hand over General Washington himself to the British. And in almost impossible-to-believe timing, at roughly that same time Congress was voting upon whether or not to recall Franklin for ineffectiveness!

Franklin's efforts, however, were bearing fruit. His personal relationship with Vergennes and the mutual respect the men had developed literally came to the rescue. Stacy Schiff wrote, "[Franklin] was fortunate in that the combined offenses of the Lees and the Adamses were every bit as effective as his own eloquence. Vergennes was as offended by the [political infighting and sea captain debacle] as was he. As much to spite Franklin's enemies as to gratify America, the French minister determined immediately to grant additional funds. He also directed [the French minister in America] to sing Franklin's praises. It was purely out of esteem for and confidence in its minister plenipotentiary that Vergennes now resolved to help America out of her financial embarrassment. 'Let them judge by my gesture, which is entirely personal, if the behavior of this minister [Franklin] had endangered the interests of his nation, and if anyone other than he could have obtained the same advantages.'"

A clear indication of the difference between a diplomatic virtuoso like Franklin and an egotistical amateur like Adams can immediately be seen in the contrast between two of their comments relating to these squabbles:

Franklin: "They quarrel at me rather than with me; for I will not quarrel with them." 

Adams: "Resentment is a passion, implanted by nature for the preservation of the individual. Injury is the object which excites it. Injustice, wrong, injury excited the feeling of resentment, as naturally and necessarily as frost and ice excite the feeling of cold, a fire excites heat, and as both excite pain. A man may have the faculty of concealing his resentment, or suppressing it, but he must and ought to feel it. Nay he ought to indulge it, to cultivate it. It is a duty."

In the end, of course, we know what happened. Franklin's entreaties through Vergennes to King Louis XVI were successful. France contributed more to the American Revolution than they had to the entire Seven Years world war a decade and a half before, in which they were directly involved. Ultimately, France's contribution to the American cause would lead (among other things) to the bankrupting of France's government, the French Revolution, and the beheading of Louis XVI. In essence, what Franklin had secured through masterful diplomacy would birth one nation and kill another, toppling monarchies and fostering the Age of Revolution.

How did Franklin do it? How did he keep his sanity through it all? How did he keep his eye on the task when all around him was turbulent and tumultuous? How did he keep from quitting in despair? And ultimately, how did he accomplish so much while appearing to be hardly exerting himself at all?

The answer, I believe, comes from the definition of sprezzatura as posited by Castigione over two centuries before. Franklin had a way of having fun through all of it, and this kept him balanced and sane. He wrote humorous little ditties that he even published in newspapers. He made many friends in upper Parisian society (a strategic move as much as an entertaining one), and even carried on a couple of famous public flirtations with high-profile French society women. He always seemed to keep an element of fun and lightheartedness to his dealings. He controlled his temper and refused to drop down to the level of his adversaries. He remained humble, never totally able to take himself as seriously as the snobs and the selfish around him who were so uptight about their honor and their appearances. This, quite possibly, came from the fact that he could never totally overcome in his own mind the fact that he had been born a humble candlemaker's son. All of this allowed Franklin to move at the pace of events, doing just the right amount at just the right time with just the right people - the hallmark of professional diplomacy. In fact, diplomacy is the very craft in which "trying too hard" or being too busy can almost always result in the opposite of what is intended. Perhaps more than any other endeavor, diplomacy requires the art of making it look simple and, well, nonchalant. Of this, Franklin was a master.

It is quite sad that in our entertainment-saoked culture today we pursue fun as an object in itself. Of course, such pursuit can only end in an empty chase for more fun. Unfortunately, most of the "fun junkies" of our world are missing the point of fun entirely. Fun is not there for its own sake alone. Fun is a tool of sanity, of effectiveness, and of mastery. Fun leads to an apparent but misleading nonchalance, more accurately stated as, "I have mastered this activity and look how much I am enjoying maximizing my gifts in a worthy purpose." You see, the reason the best at any field make it look so easy is because there is something deeply satisfying about working hard for a long time at a worthy task and finally getting good at it.

Fun can be a powerfully effective tool by:

1. creating a good first impression

2. disarming enemies

3. building and "greasing" relationships 

4. helping one to keep a proper perspective

5. diffusing tense situations

6. disavowing prideful behavior

7. keeping sanity as a "pressure relief valve"

8. restoring our frayed nerves and attitudes

9. allowing one to "keep one's head" (no pun intended, sorry Louis)

10. producing situations in which some work can actually get done (called "dinner table diplomacy" in Franklin's day)

So use fun as a leadership tool. Find fun in your every day dealings and find fun things to do in between, all the while relentlessly pursuing mastery in your calling. Spread fun among others. Do all of this, and you will likely sail higher, farther, and better than your rivals, who will be forced to observe your competence in frustration as you make it look so easy. You will reach a state of sprezzatura to make even Castiglione proud. 

One final salute to Franklin from the pen of Stacy Schiff: "[Franklin] was the opportunistic envoy from the land of opportunity, that pluralistic singularity that is the United States. His was an initial display of America's scrappy, improvisatory genius . . . . " May we all become the same! 

 

It's Your Business to Know What Business You're In

It should go without saying that you should know what you're doing in order to do it. But a surprising number of people and even companies don't seem to know what their main purpose is. There are two groups, however, that can always be counted on to understand this perfectly well: 1) customers and 2) competitors. One will leave you and one will devour you if you don't figure it out.

So what business are you in?

Have you clearly defined it?

Are you sure that's really it?

The answers to these questions are important because they dictate the strategies, decisions, and actions that lead to results, or lack thereof. These are not trite exercises - they are paramount.

Let's take Steve Jobs of Apple Computer fame, for example. He is a subject worthy of study, to be sure, having succeeded tremendously at an extreme young age, then floundered famously, only to rise from the ashes and soar to ever higher heights. I will, at some point in the future, do a more in depth write-up on this interesting man, but for now it will suffice to use him as what I hope will be a clear example of the main point of this article (aren't you glad there's a point?)

The very name of "Apple Computer Corporation" gives a hint to where I'm going with this. You see, I contend that part of what was amiss with Steve Jobs in his first run-up to success was that he didn't understand the nature of his own genius. He thought he was in the business of making and selling computers. Following this purpose sent him down many cul-de-sacs and eventually led to his ouster from the very company he helped launch.

He fared even worse at his "next" adventure, NeXT Computers, in which he focused again on building and selling computers, this time to a slightly different market. But along the way he did a few things correctly, which morphed into his eventual success and return to the top. Most importantly, he either discovered or just simply got aligned with his overall true ability: making technology incredibly, reliably, and stylishly useful to the average person.

You see, most of us aren't really interested in how a computer works, or the intricacies of programming, or the cleverness of a sub-routine. I have been alive for the entire computer revolution, my first exposure to it being at my friend Ramana's house in fourth grade where he showed me his P.E.T. computer.  

"What's it for?" I asked.

"For computing stuff," he replied.

"Like what?"

"Well, you can write lines of programming code and it will compile it," he answered.

"Can we play with your Star Wars action figures some more?" I asked.

Computer technology has always been interesting to the Ramana's of this world, but not to the rest of us mere mortals. (Ramana would go on to be one of our Valedictorians). For the most part, my experience with computers has been a forced, frustrated exercise in learning detailed gobblygook I didn't want to learn in the first place. I just wanted the end result of what the stupid thing was supposed to produce.

Enter Steve Jobs. With his sense of cool and his near maniacal insistence that things "just work," he stands like a knight in shining armor for all of us who desperately need technology but find it no more interesting than putting bamboo shoots under our own fingernails. The fact that he could bring us something that works, and even make us feel cool doing it, was his real genius. I contend, in fact, that it's the real business he's in. Once he discovered this fact he has been unstoppable.  This realization broke him out of the box of "making and selling computers" and led him into the world of digitized music (iPODs and iTunes), computer-animated full-length feature movies (Pixar), and computing devices that serve our lives reliably (MacBooks and iPhones). Good job, Steve. Although you think Zen is cool and don't eat meat, I still can somehow relate to you.

So tear a page out of Steve Job's play book, or at least sing to one of his tunes on your iPod Shuffle, and get it clear in your head what your real business is. If you think it's as simple as providing a functional-based answer such as, "making and selling widgets that people want to buy," you deserve what's coming to you. But if you can truly discover your genius angle, that likely you and only you can provide, then you'd better prepare for a moonshot. There will always be a market when you get it right. 

  

Tell Me If Anything Was Ever Done

 It at first seems odd that Leonardo da Vinci is so revered today. None of his sculptured works have survived, and only around a grand total of fifteen of his paintings are known. Although he wrote a lot about architecture, no buildings anywhere are credited to his name. Dispassionate scientists have long debated the originality of his many inventions found only in his sketchbooks – little evidence exists that he ever actually built or tested any of these ideas.

 

Yet Leonardo is heralded as a universal genius, the ideal of the Renaissance in which artists were not only proficient but expected to be masters in many fields. He is shrouded in mystery and myth, movies and books being written about his sensational secret codes, mischievous messages, and secret handwriting (which was actually just backwards).

 

As with most post-modern heroes, however, closer inspection reveals a somewhat smaller man. Although unarguably monumentally talented, Leonardo suffered from what art historian Ken Clark called his “constitutional dilatoriness.” Pope Leo X said, “Alas! This man will never do anything!” Leonardo often accepted commissions for works he never finished, in many cases, works he never even began. Of the paintings we know of, such as the Mona Lisa, he worked on them off and on for years, most experts agreeing that the art itself shows the weaknesses of such a lackadaisical methodology. Perhaps authors D’Epiro and Pinkowish asked it best: “Why did the man who was arguably the greatest painter who ever lived dissipate his energies, often quite carelessly, among so many other fields?”

 

Let’s address his current mass media popularity first: In our post-modern times, which seek any source of credibility against God and ultimate truth, Leonardo is a ready poster child for the Godless – possessing abundant talent and shrouded in sufficient mystery to speculate about alternate truths. In short, from a world-view that disdains accomplishment and merit (what one accomplishes and earns) and instead focuses upon position and power and prestige (who one is and who one knows), heroes are made out of those who seem to succeed despite the rules of effort, contribution, and earning it. Leonardo didn’t have to accomplish much (in proportion to his gargantuan talent, that is) to be revered by those who don’t really want to accomplish much themselves.  Additionally, his atheism is seen as reassurance, as if to say, “If the great man didn’t believe, then I can make myself great by being a disbeliever too.”

 

But all that is really beside the point. There is absolutely no denying the fact that Leonardo da Vinci was an extremely gifted man, one of the towering giants of the Renaissance. The question that carries the most meaning for those of us on our own journeys of life accomplishment is “Why so little output?” I am reminded of the Stephen King quote concerning the author of Gone With the Wind: “Why didn’t she ever write another book?”

 

Success is the product of many components, of which one of the most prominent is focus. We can do many things in our lives, but we can’t do everything. We can have wide interests, and to a certain extent that is good and healthy, but we shouldn’t dissipate our true well of talent on too many endeavors. If genius like that of a Leonardo is wasted by too broad a stroke, then what happens to those of us who are less well endowed?  As Leonardo himself wrote, “As a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand, so every mind divided among different studies is confused and weakened.”

 

I would posit that the less talented we are, the more focused we must be. Even the least talented can accomplish grandiose achievements if applying themelves ferociously, consistently, and with enough focus over time. In fact, it seems that often the greatest accomplishments go to those who actually aren’t all that talented, but retain just this one last shred of talent: the ability to focus intensely and over the long term.

 

Sadly, we will never know what wonders of painted masterpieces Leonardo may have produced for the enjoyment of the world. He spent too much of his time elsewhere, on areas other than his gifting. While in many cases he was still better in these areas than most of the rest of us, the loss still stings. One is left wanting more, but time answers back a heartless “too late.” This brings us to the saddest consideration of the squandered gifts of life: What could have been?

 

Do not squander what you’ve been given, no matter how much or little, rather, harness it, develop it, hone it, and focus it, bring it to bear on a daily basis and letting the world see what you were given. It is a duty to return our gifts of talent totally spent and depleted in worthy use. Or, if not, one may join the great Leonardo da Vinci himself, who wrote toward the end of his life, “Di mi se mai fu fatta alcuna cosa (Tell me if anything was ever done.)”

 

 

Featured Rascals: Ed Freeman and Bruce Crandall

 The United States government was still calling the involvement of U.S. military personnel in Viet Nam a "police action," but from the intensity of the fighting in the la Drang Valley that day of November 14, 1965, it certainly looked like a war.  Especially to the battalion of American soldiers pinned down by so much enemy fire that the medical evacuation helicopters refused to fly to their aid.  Without supplies and the evacuation of the many wounded, the Americans stood the chance of being completely wiped out.

            At that point, helicopter pilot Ed Freeman and his commander Bruce Crandall together decided to volunteer to fly their unarmed Hueys into Landing Zone X-Ray, a mere hundred meters or so from the perimeter of the fighting.  Time after time the two men flew directly through enemy gunfire to the imperiled American soldiers.  They brought water, ammunition, and medical supplies, and returned with the severely wounded.  From the time the medical evacuation was halted, Freeman and Crandall made fourteen more trips into the beleaguered zone.  Many on hand that day were quick to say that the entire unit might have been eliminated if not for the heroics of those two men, and the thirty wounded soldiers rescued that day most certainly would have perished.

            Freeman and Crandall were considered crazy for flying again and again directly into the face of overwhelming enemy fire.  But, like true Rascals, they did it anyway for the sake of their brothers in arms.  Men were counting on them and they refused to let them down, no matter the risk to them personally.  In the service of others they risked it all.  For their uncommon valor, extraordinary heroism, and dedication to duty, Freeman and Crandall were awarded the U.S. military's highest recognition, the Medal of Honor. 

Featured Rascal: Gerrold Mor

 For hundreds of years, England held sway over Ireland.  Their hegemony ranged from tyranny and brutal murder to loose control, but always, generation after generation, there was the yoke of English rule.  Lands were taken from peasants and given to rich English nobles.  Religious war and cruelty were common.  Favoritism, power hunger, greed, fraud, and nepotism dominated the governance of the island.  But always and throughout, there was strong resistance to English rule and defiant rebellion led by courageous Rascals.             

            Thomas FitzGerald, the eighth earl of Kildare, whom the Irish called Gerrold Mor, was an Englishman through and through.  He'd married a cousin of the King of England, and with his induction into the Order of the Garter, he'd been awarded one of the king's highest honors.  But consistent with a long line of English nobleman in Ireland, he would also be accused of being more Irish than English, becoming instrumental in Ireland's resistance to English domination.

            Mor served as the English governor of Ireland for more than thirty years, but he did so by twice openly defying English kings.  In 1478, when emissaries from King Edward IV were sent to Ireland to replace him, Mor simply refused.  Then in 1488 Mor did it again.  By 1494 the English monarchy had had enough, and king Henry VII sent an army to Ireland to capture power from Mor and arrest him.  After a period, Mor was released, but only under the condition that he leave his son behind in England as a pledge of loyalty and insurance of obedience.

            Mor's willful stands against England made him very popular in Ireland.  But he was also fiercely opposed by other factions on the island.  A tireless politician, Mor built strong alliances with Gaelic chieftains, and used military might to defeat his enemies.  As one English king said of him, "He is meet to rule all Ireland, seeing as all Ireland cannot rule him."  In fact, it was his near total sway over the island that fostered the jealousy of the English kings.

            As a ruler, Mor did much for the cause of unifying the many factions of Ireland.   He also helped usher in the Renaissance in Ireland by aiding in the establishment of libraries and schools, and he encouraged Gaelic art and literature. 

            As a Rascal on an island of Rascals, Mor was impressive with his accomplishments of unification and resistance to English dominance.  As Malachy McCourt wrote, "Gerrold Mor had ruled Kildare and the English pale for nearly forty years, and for the most part had remained a popular ruler during the entirety.  He had kept a large range of English kings from meddling too drastically in the affairs of Ireland and had stretched his influence over much of the island.  Gerrold Mor was surely his own man, and he began a family dynasty that would result in proud Anglo-Irish defiance."

Featured Rascal: John Wycliffe

    John Wycliffe was a fourteenth century Oxford scholar.  Charismatic, fluent in Latin, and a major philosopher and theologian, Wycliffe was living the life of a sequestered intellectual professor.  He was well respected and ensconced in the halls of academia.  For most, that would have been the end of the story; but not for Wycliffe. 

             It was a time of unbelievable church dominance, in which the church was a government all its own, crossing national and/or feudal borders and commanding control over every aspect of people's lives.  It was powerful, often suppressive, political, bureaucratic, and sometimes ruthless.  It had a monopoly on worship in most of Europe, and controlled church attendance, taxation, and every aspect of private behavior.  The prevailing attitude was that the church was the guardian and interpreter of all Scripture, and the common people had no right to their own understanding of God's truths apart from the pronouncements of the official church.  From our vantage point nearly seven hundred years later, it is difficult to imagine.  Nothing exists in today's world to resemble it. 

            It was real enough for Wycliffe, however, and he felt driven to do something about it.  According to author Melvyn Bragg, "His prime revolutionary argument, one which, if accepted in any shape or form, would have toppled the Church entirely, was that the Bible was the sole authority for religious faith and practice and that everyone had the right to read and interpret scripture for himself.  This would have changed the world, and those who ruled the world knew it.  He was to become their prime enemy."  Wycliffe decided to square off against this gargantuan power by an act that today sounds so harmless; providing a Bible translated into the common language of the English people.  To that point it had only been available in Latin, which none but priests could understand.  Wycliffe was convinced that getting the truth to the people by placing the Scriptures in their own hands and in their own language was worth risking his very life.

            The translation itself was a huge task, but producing and disseminating the final copies was even more difficult, as everything had to be done in secret.  Hidden production lines were established, and hundreds of volunteers rose up to help in the clandestine movement.  Wycliffe then trained itinerant preachers to get the books to the people and teach them the Scriptures, which they could now verify by their own readings.  They became known as the Lollards, a word taken from the root meaning "to mumble."  Calling themselves the Christian Brethren, their movement spread high and low throughout England and Scotland, with thousands of copies of the Wycliffe English Bible permeating the countryside. 

            The church began by officially condemning Wycliffe.  They complained that "the jewel of the clerics is turned to the sport of the laity and the pearl of the gospel is scattered abroad and trodden underfoot by swine."  In 1382, a synod of the church declared Wycliffe and his followers to be heretics.  They were soon gathered up, tortured, and killed.  English Bibles were confiscated and burned.  Later, the English Parliament enacted a ban on all English language Bibles.  At roughly this same time, Wycliffe suffered a stroke and was paralyzed, dying two years later.  Bragg wrote, "After Wycliffe's death and despite the condemnation and harshness of the Church, copies of Wycliffe's Bible continued to be produced and circulated - even when it became a mortal crime to own any of Wycliffe's works.  With astonishing courage, Catholics who spread the English language were prepared to defy the Pope and take a chance with their lives and their eternal souls in order to read the word of God to the English in their own language."  As is common with extreme Rascals such as Wycliffe, the work lived on.

            Though Wycliffe's efforts were largely snuffed, the seeds had been planted.  Where Wycliffe and his Lollards had been stopped, William Tyndale and others would later succeed.  Within a little over a century, the same English government that had been so zealous in helping the church eliminate any and all English Bibles would officially sponsor the publication of one of the most famous Bibles in history; the King James.  Wycliffe had not fought in vain.

Featured Rascal: Mother Teresa

        Born in 1910 Agnese Gonxhe Bojaxhiu in Uskub, Ottoman Empire, she was the youngest child in a family from Albania.  At age eight, when her father died, she began attending a Roman Catholic church.  By age twelve she was convinced her life would be a religious one, and she became fascinated by stories of missionaries.  In 1931 she took her first religious vows and chose the name Teresa for herself after the patron saint of missionaries, Therese de Lisieux.  In 1946 she received what she called her "call within the call" to leave the convent and serve the poor.

        It was a courageous and wild decision, one that would throw her into hunger and doubt.  She had absolutely no income and had to resort to begging for supplies and food.  In the early days she was constantly tempted to return to the relative comfort of the convent, but she allowed her compassion for the poor to drive her onward. 

            In 1950 she founded the Missionaries of Charity with the purpose of caring for "the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the lepers, all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for throughout society, people that have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone."  Her charity grew from a tiny concern in a Calcutta, India, into an enormous, world-wide organization. 

            In 1952 she opened her first Home for the Dying. Next she opened a home for those suffering from leprosy, as well as several leprosy clinics throughout Calcutta.  In 1955, her Missionaries of Charity opened the Children's home of the Immaculate Heart as a home for orphans.  By the 1960s the Missionaries of Charity were running hospices, leper homes, and orphanages across India, and soon thereafter began expanding similar operations around the globe.

            All of this was wonderful in a way.  With such a growing organization focused upon the lowest strata of existence, Mother Teresa and her Missionaries of Charity garnered international fame.  She was featured in books and a documentary.  She began receiving honors from around the world.  She also received some scathing criticism that would follow her consistently throughout the rest of her life.

            Caring for the poor was fine, according to her critics, but they had problems with her methods.  Some attacked the conditions in her hospices, others attacked her treatment of the sisters in the Missionaries of Charity.  One critic said she wasn't doing anything about the condition of the poor as such, but was simply treating people that were poor! Many critics, seizing upon her open admissions of the struggle to feel God's closeness during struggle and squalor, even expressed doubts about her faith and sincerity.  Her globalism and organizational might were attacked as commercially exploiting her image as a saintly servant when she was actually an aggressive empire-builder for the church.  One of the most lasting criticisms against her was the accusation that she was not treating the poor but rather proselytizing souls to the Catholic Church.  Of this she offered no apology, saying, "I'm not a social worker.  I don't do it for this reason.  I do it for Christ.  I do it for the church."  Finally, always and everywhere, she was vilified the most for her unwavering stance against abortion. 

            Mother Teresa dealt with such criticism all the days of her public life.  She simply refused to live her life for the reasons critics wished to assign her.  Not once was she known to recant from her stand on the issues or pull back from her unpopular positions of morality and service.  Not everyone agreed with her values, but almost everyone was amazed at her steely spunk.  Perhaps no moment is as illustrative of this as her speech given at the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C., in February 1997.  Railing against the practice of abortion, Mother Teresa at one point said, " What is taking place in America is a war against the child. And if we accept that the mother can kill her own child, how can we tell other people not to kill one another?"  Conspicuous among the attendees at that prayer breakfast were President and First Lady Bill and Hillary Clinton, politically aligned with the pro-choice side of the abortion question.  Undeterred by such prominent figures positioned opposite her politically, Mother Teresa was unafraid and unashamed to state her position defiantly.

            This spirit of defiance, of standing for what she believed in no matter who was in opposition, was the same spirit that led her to spearhead a rescue of 37 children trapped in a hospital in a fight between Palestinians and Israelis.  It is the same spirit responsible for ministering to the starving masses in Ethiopia, tending to earthquake victims in Albania, and assisting radiation casualties at Chernobyl.  It is the strong spirit of a Rascal driven by purpose and living life fully in the service of attacking the status quo.  It is the spirit that, at the time of her death in 1997, had produced a charitable service organization of over 4,000 sisters operating over 600 missions in 123 countries with over 100,000 volunteers. 

            In the words of Nawaz Sharif, Prime Minister of Pakistan, she was a "rare and unique individual who lived long for higher purposes."  From the viewpoint of critics and contributors alike, it must be agreed that if anything, Mother Teresa was certainly a Rascal, a title that despite Nobel Peace Prizes and beatification, she likely has not received until now!