The other day I was asked to be a guest speaker for Career Day at a local junior high school.

I can’t think about career day without remembering that scene in “City Slickers” when Billy Crystal’s character (a radio ad executive) is asked by his son to speak to his class at Career Day…if you remember how that scene plays out, Billy is in a dark period of his life which is manifested by his lackluster presentation on the benefits of his profession. He describes “selling air” which his son and fellow first-graders find extremely boring compared to the heavy equipment operator that preceded him. Career Day, in my opinion, is professional validation in its purest form. If you don’t wear a uniform, carry a gun or fight fires, your career choice may not be viewed as exciting or interesting as the other adults in the room. That type of honest feedback from an eight-year-old can be debilitating. Having felt the shame of this type of professional categorizing in the past, I was determined this time to make my career of choice appear as magnificent as humanly possible. I envisioned being the king of the hallway discussion as classmates compared their future employment options.

As I considered my strategies, my diabolical mind prioritized my options of enticement. The idea of a superhero outfit, preferably spandex, emblazoned with a large CNP (Captain Nonprofit) crossed my mind. I considered a modified tool belt cluttered with sports paraphernalia, orange cones, stop watches and a clip board….my thoughts moved on.  I found myself mired in the throes of professional jealousy as I plotted and schemed the many ways I could win the hearts of my young audience…and then it hit me….the key to cornering the market on Career Day success is imagination. It was as obvious as the look of intrigue on the faces of the young people as they imagined themselves in their future careers. Imagination drives everything….but it’s more than that. Imagination is also a skill, and as such, represents a trait that can be valued by a future employer. Imagination cannot be taught at an institute of higher learning. It was my quest to root out the imaginative powers of these teenagers and present them with the professional opportunities that this hidden skill possesses. Imagination, in my opinion, is an innate characteristic. Imagination develops at a young age when it is nurtured by friends and loved ones that appreciate and promote creative thinking. 

The imaginative person is not without his or her critics though. There is no certification process necessary for the simple-minded scoffer who sits on the sideline and discounts any idea that breaches the bounds of normalcy. When a young person realizes they possess a vivid imagination, they can become labeled by others as either a “scatterbrain” or a “big thinker”. The young “scatterbrain” looks at opportunities and voices his or her thoughts in the form of creative options meant to improve on the mundane or typical approach. When these creative options are explained, they typically make even close relatives shake their heads and wonder what side of the family tree this person fell out of. In contrast, the young “big thinker” presents imaginative options in such a way that the audience naturally responds in a manner that suggests, “why didn’t we think of that…and aren’t we lucky to have that kid in our family?”…therein lies the difference. 

Let’s take a look at a quick case study. Following the traditional Sunday services, two young families decide to try out the new smorgasbord that just opened on the south side of town. The crowd is large and the mixed smells of 212 different items (all for $7.99 per plate) cause the young imaginative kids to come up with creative ways to thwart the excruciating line and minimize the time until they get their hands on the individual molded plastic serving trays.

The “scatterbrained” one describes a strategy that involves scaling the Plexiglas sneeze guard, body blocking a trio of seniors and trapezing the warming lights in an attempt to capitalize on the lime jello cups. This strategy results in a reprimand from his parents followed by an apologetic look at the eavesdropping couple in front of them. The “big thinker” strategy, meanwhile, includes informing the manager about the significance of an ancient family holiday that strangely falls on this day. Undoubtedly, due to its obvious importance, this day warrants safe and efficient passage to the front of the line.

As a young person, I can remember my own mother saying to the next door neighbor that, “imagination has a strange way of growing over time…and if you’re not careful it can get away from you.”  I remember the peculiar look on my mother’s face as she looked at me and rolled her eyes…it was the same look she had some years later, when I showed her what was growing in my college dorm refrigerator…a mix of disbelief blended with an underlying glint of disturbance.

As a nonprofit professional, I have found imagination to be a critical part of my approach to ensuring a certain level of success. Imagination promotes interest, promises intrigue and stimulates participation…all of which are necessary when trying to entice the health-seeker to engage in a fitness regimen and dismiss a sedentary lifestyle. I have learned that imagination has no age restrictions or statute of limitations. Just because you’re an adult does not make you immune to the creative enticements of the master imaginator. For example, a health-seeker is uniquely susceptible as the imaginative fitness trainer exposes them to the benefits of the out-of-body experience of a 30-mile treadmill walk or the near state of euphoria one will find at mile 47 on the recumbent bike. The imaginative trainer will paint a picture of fitness grandeur unsurpassed by mere mortals who have dared to navigate the fitness floor stage.

Now, the litmus test for imagination prowess comes when the health-seeker reaches that crucial point where fatigue meets questionability. As the health-seeker struggles for breath, their knee joints scream for mercy, the “scatterbrained” trainer all of a sudden becomes an object of loathing with little or no credibility. At that point, the health-seeker abandons trust and treadmill as fast as humanly possible leaving only a memory of a New Year’s resolution wadded up in a sweat-stained gym towel. The “big thinker” trainer then recognizes the significance of this pivotal crossroads and jumps in with an imaginative breakthrough that keeps this individual on their path to wellness.

The other day, I found myself in a conversation with a couple of colleagues discussing the importance of “fun” when it comes to program delivery, special events, etc.

I have a philosophy of sorts which has never been tested for validity, but I’m okay with that so I’m gonna share it. “Humans like to have fun regardless of what age they are.”

I am a big fan of the traveling carnival. Now don’t get me wrong; I avoid the mobile concession stand due to a pact that I made with my lower intestine a number of years ago, but that’s not where my fascination lies. If I am driving down the highway and by chance happen to see a Tilt-a-Whirl folded up on the back of a semi-trailer, I speed up. I will purposely exceed the speed limit just to see the creative color schemes, characters and bold statements that emblazon these rides and captivate both young and old. Carnivals have always had a way of enticing people to attend. I believe this desire to “go to the carnival” is based on a belief that “fun” lies in waiting somewhere between the bearded lady, the weight guesser and the sign that reads “World Famous Lizard Man.” I find it amazing that people will pay good money to ride the tea cups knowing that there is the possibility that they may revisit that funnel cake they ate earlier. Still, they get in line…”fun” or the “promise of fun” is a powerful force.

What is it about a carnival that automatically makes your brain think you’re gonna have fun? Is it the flashing lights? Is it the music blaring over the PA system, the risk of tripping over power cords or the big blue standard poodles hanging from the midway which you will never win in a million years even if you are a big league pitcher?

My take on it is that it’s the whole experience…can you imagine a carnival without the carnies, the music, the flashing lights, ticket booths or porta potties? No…you can’t! You leave one of those things out and your brain tells you something’s missing…and when something’s missing, it isn’t “as fun” as it used to be. There is just no substitute for fun. Saying something was “kinda fun” is like saying your meal is “kinda hot.” It just doesn’t work.

As we continued to discuss the importance of fun, we agreed that often we take the fun out of things and we don’t even realize it until we look around and wonder where everybody is. Putting “fun” into things takes effort. It takes passion and creativity, but above all else it takes effort. A person has to want to add that extra little thing that may make the whole experience fun. It’s so easy to just say we don’t need that clown nose, funny hat or whoopee cushion…but mark my words, someone’s gonna ask you, “What happened to the whoopee cushion you had last year…and where is my clown nose?”

I believe that organizers have a responsibility to ensure that fun is part of every event. And once they have announced that they are going to ensure it, they need to find an age-appropriate person to tell them what “fun” looks like.

“Fun” also makes up for a lot of other shortcomings—like that pizza place where the train chugs around the perimeter of the restaurant and the conductor takes your order. As a kid, I had a blast at that place, but I never could understand why my parents always said they would just catch a bite at home later.

I also enjoy listening to folks who can’t quite remember the experience—yet they remember having fun. It always starts with one of them bringing up the dance at the Legion Hall in ’56. From there, the smiles and the distant looks are followed by about 15 minutes of arguments regarding the time of year, dress color, fruit punch and the name of the guy who fell off the stage. Regardless of the degree of contradictions, the discussion always ends with someone saying, “That sure was fun.” That pretty much says it all.

The other day, my cell phone contract ended and I was excited about getting a new phone. Not being what I call a “gadget boy”, I have typically found comfort in the familiarity and similarity of my previous model. So, when the opportunity arises to upgrade, I tend not to venture out of my precious comfort zone and risk the frustrations and learning curve associated with the “latest and greatest” that the market has to offer. That being said, I ordered the same model I had before and declined the charger because naturally I figured my old one would fit. Then I waited with bated breath.  Let me stop there for a moment.  Does anybody have any idea what “bated breath” means?  I used those words because I have heard others use them in this context. It seems appropriate, but I strangely feel some literary pressure here. Frankly, I have no idea what those words mean. I apologize for digressing…let me continue.

So, a couple of weeks later, the phone shows up and I go to plug it in to my car charger and guess what? It doesn’t fit. Puzzled, I turn it over and try to insert…again, I fail. Next, I apply mild pressure…negative. Then I begin pressing firmly and realize I am sweating…still no success.  Desperate, I dig through my drawer of old phone chargers trying in vain to find a match, and despite the fact that I have 29 chargers to choose from, none fit.  Frustrated, I share with my coworkers the question of, “why can’t the phone-making powers continue to utilize the same charger from year to year?” I posed this question more to seek sympathy for my situation than to illicit any sort of response that would have suggested that I should have bought the charger. The question resulted in a variety of responses ranging from “why can’t the people that make mops continue to make replacement heads that fit?” to “are there powers that really make cell phones, and if so, what does the break room in these factories look like?”

All of this aside, the experience reminded me that as Y professionals, my staff and I are committed to promoting healthy lifestyle opportunities for people of all ages, and we have a responsibility to provide a trouble-free delivery system.

I love the idea of providing a venue for a family wellness experience. Can’t you just envision parents and kids pulling up in the parking lot eager to do their own wellness thing, be active, and dismiss the troubles of the day? Now don’t get me wrong, I take no responsibility for those who forget towels or swim diapers or have one ghost anklet sock mysteriously levitate out of their gym bag.  However, I fully understand and am committed to ensure that the experience a family has is hassle-free, convenient and quality.  No one likes to jump through hoops unless they’re in a circus or have furry feet and eat uncooked meat products.

What I dread is the thought of the family’s ride home if we failed for some reason.  It is my belief that the ride home is probably the epicenter of the healthy lifestyle derailing zone. Now I am not a coward, but I really don’t want to be a fly on the back window when little Johnny says, “the Y was boring,” or teen sister Suzy says, “they wouldn’t let me in the teen room because my membership badge was expired.” I also don’t want to see mom give dad that same look she gave him when he asked if, “it was worth the hassle to find the time to go to Aunt Millie’s family reunion this year?” If the above scenario plays out, I would rather sit out the discussion this family has the next time they think about going to the Y.

The road to a healthy lifestyle is littered with excuses disguised as potholes. My staff and I won’t be the road crew turning a blind eye or not having a bag of instant asphalt available if we should see a crack forming in our delivery system.

The other day, a key volunteer who had just sat through a presentation of our current evaluation process asked, “who provided the rankings for the assessment?” Once it was shared that it was a “self assessment”, he reminded us that it really is how the customer assesses us that matters–isn’t it? At that moment, I grabbed my phone intending to quickly text my assistant a message to remember to re-tool our assessment system and realized I had no battery power…there you go!

A few nights back I was volunteering at the Cedar Park Fall Festival hosted by our Twin Lakes Family YMCA and YMCA Camp Twin Lakes. My job was to put admission wristbands on both young and old, regardless if they were in a Spiderman costume or sporting a plastic mullet and a REO Speedwagon t-shirt…please tell me I never really looked like that…the eighties were a bad wardrobe time for a lot of us.

There is something about the act of putting a tamperproof wristband on a stranger that causes you to look at anything but the person’s hand you are holding. It’s kind of awkward as Spiderman just wants to get in the gate, so you’re trying to snap the thing on as he’s dragging you down the road heading for the tilt-a-whirl. Mullet man is giving you this look like, “really…do I have to wear that thing? And if you pinch my wrist one more time, I’m gonna go Spidey on you and drag you through the gate.”

After about the first 2,000 or so wristbands, you find yourself purposely not looking at the teenage Jack Sparrow or forty-year-old Pippy Longstockings. Your eye contact is minimized as you concentrate on the task of snapping the wristband in the most efficient and non-invasive manner. By wristband 5,000, you are intentionally gazing at anything but the hobo with the “Sharpie marker beard”. In fact, you have become an expert at all that the Twin Lakes Park facility has to offer since you have been looking at it for four hours. You then find yourself absent-mindedly appreciating the efforts of those agencies and municipalities that came together to make Twin Lakes Park such a special place.

I watched as a line of ducks waddled up the bank begging the costumed guests for any kind of trick or treat that might come their way. Beyond the lead duck was the Trailhead Pavilion and restroom facility that was funded by the City of Cedar Park 4-B Committee and the Y.

The lights reflecting off of the lake allowed a glimpse of the trail bridge that Williamson County Park and Recreation underwrote so that thousands of runners, bikers and walkers could cross the creek on their trek to meet their outdoor wellness goals.

I could also see the fishing pier and amphitheater, which was made possible by a Texas Park and Wildlife grant and Y fundraising. In fact that very evening, there was a fellow in a hat with fishing pole in hand leaning over the dock just waiting for that “big one” to show up.

Two squealing kids then winged by on the zip line coasting over the lake, hitting the pulley break and swinging back to the Tango Tower, which was funded by Round Rock I.S.D.

Music was also playing on the Kaboom Field. As I listened, I was reminded of that day when Home Depot and the Y brought more than 300 volunteers together and laid sod and built benches so that thousands of kids could play soccer and flag football on a real field.

The smell of cotton candy then drifted across the park bridge that leads to the lodges built by the Y through countless private donations. Tonight those lodges were filled with haunted actors and vendors. From June to August, those same lodges host hundreds of summer day campers learning crafts, singing songs and playing games. Throughout the year, weddings, parties, and reunions gather at Twin Lakes Park utilizing these structures on a rental basis just like any other county park.

Somewhere around wristband 7,000, I realized that I needed to pay attention to what I had volunteered for because I unknowingly tried to put a band on somebody’s dog. By this time, families were leaving, so I took the opportunity to ask, “did you have a good time?”

No amount of cotton candy, mustard from a hot dog or powdered sugar from a funnel cake could hide the smile on Spiderman’s face. Mullet Man then gave me a look that could only be described as appreciation as he said, “we had a great time and this is a great place.” That pretty much says it all.