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.