Some words before you go

It’s traditional, is it not, for the father to offer some pearls of wisdom to his son before he packs his bags for college and the rest of his life?

In my own case, it was my taciturn father, a man of few words and carefully guarded emotions, slipping five $20 bills in my hand and telling me, “Find yourself an honest mechanic to work on your car. It’ll save you a lot of money.”

I took his advice and, over the years, I’ve come to treasure honest tradesmen of all stripes. I also took the money, using it, I’m almost certain, to purchase beer within hours of arriving on campus. At the time, I considered the cash the more practical, and thoughtful, gift. More than 40 years down the road, and thousands of dollars in car repairs later, I’m not so sure.

So with that in mind, I offer my own, more expanded, advice to my son, Ethan, who departs soon for the University of North Texas. The thoughts below represent hard-earned wisdom. I’ll leave it to him to decide whether he accepts any of it or simply takes the money and runs.

•  Learn how to listen to women. This is much more important than learning how to talk to them, which you think you already know how to do. If you’re a good listener, and know the right questions to ask and when, you’ll be surprised how many women will become your friends. That’s because the more you listen to women, the more you understand them and the more interesting you become to them. (Shockingly, that’s something most guys don’t understand.) Don’t worry, the dating part will work itself out. But the real payoff will be a lot of good female friends. Here’s something you’ll find out quickly: They’re more complicated and, thus, more interesting than guys.
• Don’t lock yourself into a field of study too soon. You’re at a university, for God’s sake. Look around, poke your head into places you haven’t thought about. Dabble in areas that pique your interest. You may find a passion you didn’t know you had. The important thing is not to limit yourself. A friend of mine tried out seven majors before deciding on English and pursuing a journalism career. That’s a true college experience: An exploration that ends in discovery. Don’t sell your future short by approaching college with tunnel vision.
• Go to class. All of them. Even the ones you don’t like. Because not everything is supposed to be fun. You’ve got to experience the bad to appreciate the good. Remember, some days are diamonds and some days are stone. Discipline – shouldering through the bullshit – is a trait that brings success and enlightenment. It’s one of the few things that does. It will not always bring joy – at least not in the short run. But in life, you have to take the broad view, the one that peeks over the existing horizon to discover what comes next. Even the classes you don’t like can prepare you for What Comes Next.
• Seek out advice you know you’re not going to like.  And listen to opinions with which you don’t agree. Don’t live in an echo chamber, surrounded by people who think like you do and believe what you believe. Make decisions after you have all the facts, not just the ones you like or want to believe. The world is a big, complex place in which change is constant and quick. In five years, you’re not going to believe in the things you presently hold sacred. Keep an open mind. Don’t hold on to bad ideas whose time has expired.
• Control your anger. Once you lose your temper, you’ve lost the argument, even if it appears you won it. Yes, anger scares people and makes them back away. But it also breeds suspicion and distrust and creates unnecessary enemies. Don’t be a slave to your emotions. Anger can end an argument. Logic, calm reasoning and a well-organized presentation of the facts can win it. Beware: Anger clouds the mind and causes lapses in judgment. It’s OK to care deeply about things, but keep a cool head and remember the old adage, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
• Embrace diversity, difference, disharmony. These are the natural state of affairs and not to be feared. They make life interesting and force us out of ourselves, out of our tight network of comfort, to confront the dazzling chaos of the world. The  key to thriving in such an environment is to figure out who you are, what you stand for. Only you can decide that. Not your friends, not your Mom and me – you. Who are you, Ethan Gunnels? And what are you about? It’s OK if you’re not quite sure. The discovery of self is an important part of what college is about.
• Stop worrying about being cool. Here’s how Dr. Seuss put it: “Be who you are and say what you feel. Because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.” Most of us live in fear of being judged unworthy or foolish by those around us. That immobilizing fear causes us to build a wall of cool aloofness as protection from scorn, ridicule or just indifference. Gut it up and tear down the wall. Live your life as it should be lived: Open to the possibilities and undaunted by the consequences.
• You always have a place to go for love and nourishment. Or just a quiet place to hide for a bit. And do laundry. Robert Frost said, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”  For you, Ethan, that’s the two-story red-brick house at the top of the hill in northwest Grapevine. You have the key. Come anytime.

 

A friend's passing

The news was expected, but no less painful. Joseph A. McAnally, a friend of mine for more than 40 years, died July 6 after a courageous battle with cancer.

He was an American original, an independent thinker of the first order, a man who marched to the beat of his own drum, who refused to graze with the rest of the herd, who followed his own code.

We met at the University of North Texas in the early 1970s. I was green as grass, a transfer student from West Texas and much younger than my 20 years would indicate. Mac was older, a veteran of the U.S. Air Force who had seen the world, who knew things that many of us didn’t. He was cool, in a natural, unforced way, and could be incredibly charming when it suited him. It didn’t suit him often. Mostly, he was irascible, sarcastic and impatient with fools, who abounded then, as now.

If he was your friend, you could have none more fiercely loyal or more dependable. If you were his enemy, you might not know it until the moment of truth when such knowledge came too little, too late.

We became friends in a way that seems silly and inconsequential today. But to UNT journalism students back in the spring of 1972, the selection of North Texas Daily editor was an issue of paramount importance. I was running for fall editor against a popular current editor who wanted another shot at the job. She was a senior who had attended all four years at UNT and was well respected by the faculty. I was a junior college transfer at the end of only my second semester at UNT. It seemed then to be a Goliath versus David contest.

Mac McAnally was finishing his second year at UNT and greatly coveted a job on the student newspaper staff, which was selected by the incoming editor. His best bet at the time would have been to throw in his lot with my opponent, or at very least to stay on the sidelines and wait for a winner.

Instead, Mac publicly endorsed me, a snub that my opponent was unlikely to forget – or forgive. I told him at the time, “Mac, are you sure you want to do this?” Truth be told, I was immensely grateful for his support. He and a colleague had been standout sophomore reporters for the paper, and their endorsement of me had lifted my candidacy considerably.

“Gunnels,” he replied, “I give us no better odds than 50-50, but what the hell?” Such are the ways that heterosexual males expressed affection in those by-gone days. His gamble forged a strong friendship, and it paid off for both of us. I became editor the next fall, and Mac was the first person I hired for my staff. He followed me as editor soon after.

As I said, it was a minor incident, barely a hiccup in both our lives. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot today. And I believe it’s useful in coloring in the essentials of what kind of man Mac was.

He was a man who evaluated things with a dispassionate focus you might be tempted to explain away as cold-bloodedness and disinterest. But Mac was passionate about the things he loved. He had strong beliefs that he could defend, when he wished, with a withering intellect that swept his opponents before him. To family and friends, he was a stalwart ally and a trusted confidant. To them, he occasionally lowered his guard a bit to let them see the man behind the façade.

When he left North Texas, he became a public relations expert, first for the Air Force and later for the VA. He handled media relations when the deposed Shah of Iran arrived at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio after fleeing the revolution in his country. Mac was the trusted counsel of generals far and wide. His guiding principle: Tell the truth and let the cards fall where they may. Because in the end, the truth wins out. Always. Those who failed to follow his advice learned their mistake quickly and brutally.

When I entered the PR field myself, I would get regular emails from Mac full of war stories and advice. The stories were colorful and eye-opening, the advice practical and valuable. I shall miss those emails very much.

If he had wished, Mac could have written one hell of a book about his military PR experiences. It would have been a page-turner full of wisdom and amusing tales. His untimely death has robbed us of that – and of his unique personality and insight.

The last time I saw Mac was several months ago at a North Texas Daily reunion in Denton. He was terribly thin and looked tired. I was shocked but not surprised when he told me about the cancer and the dismal prognosis. Characteristically, he talked matter-of-factly about the limited treatment options. When we shook hands to leave, I knew in my gut it was for the last time.