My father always used to repeat the Tony Robbins quote, “Repetition is the mother of skill.” Every time I did something wrong: “Repetition is the mother of skill.” Every time I started working on something new: “Repetition is the mother of skill.” Every time I did something successfully, my father told me why: “Repetition is the mother of skill.”
Needless to say, I found this to be the most annoying phrase of words ever strung together.
My father knew I hated this phrase. With a smile, he’d often start it and then wait patiently, refusing to let me leave the room until I grudgingly completed it for him.
The most annoying thing about this phrase is that it was true. The more I practiced and repeated something, the better I got at it. Repetition truly was the best way to refine my skills. I could never bring myself to admit this to my father, but today the phrase still repeats in my head whenever I am struggling with something.
During my senior year of college, I found myself remembering the phrase as I practiced a speech for a class. It was a rather comprehensive speech, stuffed full of information in a measly three minutes. Normally, I performed my speeches without practicing. I found I was more eloquent if I knew the basic outline of my speech instead of trying to remember the exact words I wanted to say. However, I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit in all the information I wanted to say in the allotted time without rehearsing it. What amazed me was that, because of the repeated practices, it was the most articulate and powerful speech I had ever given. I received tumultuous praise from my classmates and professor, and was rewarded with a perfect score.
Later that day, when relaying the experience to my father, I mentioned how surprised I was by how much the practices helped. I cringed immediately, hoping with bated breath that he would merely give a small assent of agreeance.
“Well, you know,” he began, and I could hear the smile through which he spoke. I groaned internally, knowing the words that were about to come. “Repetition is the mother of skill.”
Happy Father’s Day to the man who always inspires me to work hard & pursue my dreams. I would not be where I am today without your loving support & words of wisdom, even the ones I found irksome. 😉
It was another hot morning in Arizona. After being here for a week, I thought my body would be used to it, but every time I step out of the house, it still seems to come as a surprise. The heat is relentless, and the sun seems to be trying as hard is it can to sear every living thing, including me.
I woke up early again today to go running before the sun rose too high in the sky. The one thing I will admit about the dry Arizona heat is that it’s better running weather than the humidity in Maryland. Here, I can keep my stride going well into the 90s, but back home, anything over 80 degrees is too hot – I start sweating as soon as I step outside. I have enjoyed my runs here more than those I was having back on the east coast during our latest heat wave.
Dad and I finished our run a little after 7:00 and bought coffees once again at Starbucks. It is becoming a bit of an expensive tradition, but nothing compares to that little jolt of espresso after a hot morning run.
Today was our last full day in Arizona, and we planned to spend it as we had the rest of this trip – visiting and getting to know family. Before relatives arrived at the house, Bev and Gus took us shopping at a local store to buy souvenirs, and then they gave us a small tour around their retirement community. My favorite part was the garden, which included a meditation area with a fountain and a large model train adorned with cute little houses, moving figurines, and a zoo (which, oddly enough, housed a dinosaur). The tour took place from the inside of our air conditioned car because today was the hottest day we had experienced yet. I am surprised the thermometer did not break. It was over 110 degrees by the time we got back to the house to prepare lunch.
Annette, my mother’s cousin, was the first to visit. We ate hors d’oeuvres and talked about our summers – Annette just recently retired from being a nurse and bought a new home not far from where Bev and Gus live. I have only met Annette one other time in my life, so it was nice to have the chance to catch up and visit again.
After she left, we only had an hour before our next guests arrived. Jocelyn, Pam’s daughter, and her new boyfriend, Riley, were out of town when visited Pam’s house on Sunday, so they decided to drive to see us on our last evening here. They brought Hazel, Jocelyn’s energetic, two-year-old dog, who brought smiles to all of our faces with her kisses and puppy cuddles.
Once again, I was excited about the chance to visit with family I had never met before. Jocelyn and I found that we have a lot in common, including the fact that we are both currently on the low-FODMAP diet. For the first time on this trip, I was not the only one with unusual dietary restrictions. Riley, Jocelyn and I talked about school and their recent trip to California. The two of them will be returning to school in a few weeks for their second year of college. It was nice to be able to talk with family members so close in age and with whom I had so much in common; we were able to talk about our lives with ease.
From left to right: Annette, Gus and Mom
The evening hours flew by, and before we knew it, our dinner plates had been cleared, dessert had been served, and it was time to say goodnight. Once again, we faced saying farewell to people without knowing when we would see them again. Then we went to bed knowing we would have to do the same with Bev and Gus tomorrow, which, after days of growing to know them better and love them even more, would be even harder.
I have one more night in Arizona. I will have one more early morning run, one more hot latte, one more breakfast with family, and then I will be flying on a plane back to Maryland. The trip went by far too fast. I would love to have the chance to stay just a few days longer to explore more of Arizona and spend more time with these people I have grown to love even more. I am so grateful that, despite with everything currently happening in the country and the world, this trip was still possible. For much of the summer, I feared we would not even make it to Arizona. And now that I have been here, I know it’s going to be even harder to stay away.
It will not be another decade before I return. I am going to visit again soon, but this time, I am going with experience, which means I am not coming back in July. A pleasant, winter trip to a balmy 70 degrees sounds like a delightful vacation that I am thoroughly looking forward to.
After nearly a week spent in Arizona, the end of my vacation looming not far into the future, I finally had the chance to experience the state for the beautiful place it is.
Our destination today was Sedona. My dad and I got up early again to run before the heat of the day hit. After the workout, we enjoyed coffees and breakfast as a family, and then we headed out to embark upon our adventure.
Sedona is over two hours away from where Bev and Gus live, so the drive was a tad long and hot. Jake and I passed the time by playing a version of the alphabet game, which managed to entertain us for the majority of the ride.
“Don’t miss out on the scenery,” Bev called out jokingly. The barren red landscape changed minimally over the course of the trip.
However, as we got closer to Sedona, our surroundings did become more appealing. Large rock formations grew from the ground and stretched up towards the sky. We gained over 4,000 feet in elevation during our drive.
The temperature in Sedona was 10 degrees cooler than it was in Sun City. When I first learned this, I thought it would provide a great relief after days 100-plus degree weather. However, upon arrival, I realized that 10 degrees does not feel all that different when the temperature is still over 90 degrees.
All of us in Coyote Canyon – from left to right: Dad, Jake, me, Bev, Gus, and Mom
We ate a quick lunch and then walked to Pink Adventure Tours. Bev had signed us up for a Coyote Canyons Pink Jeep Tour, one of the moderate (which means not too bumpy) canyon drives. After receiving our bubblegum pink wristbands, we walked to the parking lot where there were multiple bright pink jeeps lined up beside one another. Our tour guide, Ryan, has been working for Pink Jeep Tours for 12 years, since the economic crash in 2008. He grew up in California, where he had worked in carpentry. When he lost his job, his parents suggested he turn his hobbies of Jeep driving and dirt bike-riding into a career, so he moved to Arizona and got the job he has now. The unfortunate thing, he said, was that, after spending so many of his days driving through the canyons, his hobbies no longer felt like fun past times. He just sold his last dirt bike a few weeks ago.
Ryan was a fantastic tour guide. He gave us the perfect blend of information and humor to make the tour fun and educational. It was a bumpy ride – the jeep tires, which were over half my height, climbed over boulders and down treacherous rocky trails, throwing us against our tightened seat belts. There were quite a few times that I held my breath, expecting the vehicle to tip, but Ryan was an expert driver who kept us safe.
As we rode, we admired the layers of red, white and brown on the canyon walls, formed over hundreds of years of different environments. Ryan stopped the jeep near an old, log cabin built by Earl Van Deren for him and his new bride in the 1890s. Walking up to that house, sweat pouring down my face, I could not imagine how anyone survived that long ago without air conditioning.
The Van Deren cabin
The jeep tour lasted two hours, but it felt much shorter. The good news is that, while it was fascinating and the views were beautiful, I don’t think any of us wanted the tour to last much longer. By the end, our pants were soaked with sweat as if we had been swimming, and we were all tired and thirsty from the heat.
We stopped at the gift shop for some souvenirs and then headed to Old Town Cottonwood, a small town not far from Sedona. The main street was quaint and alluring, but most of the shops were closed due to the novel coronavirus. Instead of walking the street, we went to Colt Grill, where we bought drinks to cool off. Bev and I each ordered a glass of wine, Gus and Dad ordered local beers, and Mom ordered a prickly pear margarita, one of the house specials.
Just before purchasing, a kind man seated at the bar announced that he would pay for our drinks. This was exceedingly generous considering how many of us there were. We thanked him profusely, but he shrugged us off. He told us he hated the racial tensions happening in the country right now, and he wanted to show us that there were no ill feelings between any of us.
Now, with our heads light on our shoulders from such a pleasant interaction (and the alcohol in our systems), we headed to where we wanted to eat. Rock Springs Cafe, which happens to be the oldest, independently owned restaurant still serving customers in Arizona, was one of very few buildings situated on a small exit off the highway. It consisted of a Mom and Pop-style store, a saloon, and the cafe, which was where the restaurant dining was located. The cuisine was homestyle comfort food, which, of course, wasn’t fancy, but it was delicious and filling after a long day. Our waitress was as sweet as the pies she served us. We ordered a rhubarb strawberry pie and a Jack Daniels pecan pie to bring home and enjoy with ice cream.
When we finally did arrive back at the house, Gus pointed out that we had been on our adventure for 11 hours, which explained the drawn looks on our reddened faces. The pie, however, brightened our spirits immediately. We sat at the table, laughing, talking and, once again, savoring the beauty of finally being able to spend time with one another.
Drinking at Colt Grill – from left to right: Bev, Gus, Mom, me, Jake, and Dad
This trip has been almost entirely about visiting family, which I could not be happier about. After about a decade since I have seen my relatives, it has been a true blessing to be reunited with them once again. Today, however, it was fun to experience Arizona for the amazing place that it is, to eat at a restaurant that only the locals know, and to travel a little out of our comfort zones to have a new experience we will never forget.
Even on relaxing vacations, it can’t hurt to have just a little taste of adventure sprinkled in.
My family having lunch at Pam’s & Rick’s house – from left to right: Dad, me, Mom, Kathleen, Pam, Samuel, Gus, Thomas, Bev, Jake, Isabella, and Steve
Today, I started my morning far earlier than my body wanted. The heat in Sun City becomes unbearable by 7:00am, so we had to start running as soon as the sun rose.
Dad and I mapped our route to end at Starbucks, and afterwards we each enjoyed our first cup of espresso since the trip began. After four days of very little sleep, my body needed that boost of caffeine.
Getting up so early gave us the luxury of relaxing for the rest of the morning. We sipped and enjoyed our coffees on the veranda outside until it was too hot to sit, and then we sat in the air conditioned living room. Bev and Gus had locally grown grapefruits, and even though they are strictly not allowed by my current low-FODMAP diet, I couldn’t help but taste a small bite. The citrus fruit burst inside my mouth, yielding a delightfully tart juice that was the perfect balance between bitter and sweet.
At noon, we left to go to Pam’s house. Pam is Bev’s eldest daughter. She lives in Fountain Hills, an hour away from Sun City. On the way, we chatted with Bev and Gus and shared stories and pictures from our latest life adventures. The hour flew by. Sooner than I realized, we were arriving at the mansion-sized homes situated on the sides of canyons, overlooking red rocks and the valley far below.
Pam is a beautiful soul. There are some people who just seem to understand life at a different level. They are humble, loving and giving to no end. They are the kind of people you can spend hours with without even realizing the passage of time, and when you do leave, you feel better about yourself and inspired to love others well. This is the kind of person Pam is. She was an incredible hostess, and despite the fact that I had never met her before, she greeted me with love and treated me as if I was her own daughter. At the end of our visit, she hugged me tightly and requested I return any time I needed a place to sleep.
While at Pam’s house, we spent time with her and her husband, Rick, as we savored our last moments with Steve and the kids. From here, we would part ways – Steve and the kids would return home while we drove back to Bev’s and Gus’ house. We talked and shared a commemorative last meal together. The hours ran away from us quicker than we could chase them, and before we knew it, it was time to say goodbye.
Uncle Steve and Mom just before saying goodbye
It was hard to say farewell not knowing when I would see them again. Before this trip, I had not visited Steve in eight years; the kids had truly been children and toddlers, and I had been a mere freshman in high school. Now, those “kids” are almost full grown, and I have graduated from college, started a career, and gotten engaged. So much has happened since we last visited, and so much could happen before we see one another again. In another eight years, even the youngest will be a legal adult and I will be in my thirties.
I hugged each of my relatives, requesting that, this time, we wouldn’t wait as long until we saw each other again. Thomas seemed the most upset by the separation; he gave me at least five earnest hugs, assuring me each time that he would come to visit me in Maryland next year. I really do hope that we can make that happen.
After Steve and the kids left, we said goodbye to Pam and Rick and began the drive home. It was a somber mood in the car. Luckily, we had a sermon Pam recommended to distract us. The message was focused on kindness, and it used the movie “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” to lead its trajectory.
Playing cards a few days ago at Steve’s house – from left to right: Sam, Kathleen, me, Thomas, Mom, and Jake
Kindness truly is what makes life beautiful. Mr. Rogers said the way to become successful in life is to be kind, and I think that must be true. I have never felt more fulfilled than after a day when I believed I truly did some good in this world, when I had been kind to others. The message reminded us that we should never so busy in our lives that we don’t realize or recognize when other people need help, and that we should extend kindness to all, even those who do not give it back to us. So many of us think of kindness as conditional; if someone is kind to one of us, we are kind back. But the beauty of true love – of God’s love – is that it is unconditional; there is nothing someone has to do to earn it, and, even more importantly, there is nothing someone can do to get rid of it. As Christ’s followers, we are called to love like that.
When we arrived home, the bittersweet taste had not left us. After such a long day and with another early morning ahead of us, we went to bed early. Lying in the guest bedroom, I couldn’t help but think back over the last few days of our trip.
It’s the finitude of moments in life that makes them both sweet and bitter. I can’t help but feel sad when wonderful moments come to an end. But endings are truly beautiful. Without them, we would not appreciate the time we have. Endings bring closure to long-awaited journeys and hope for an unknown future. Endings are what remind us to make the most of the moments we are in, and they are what make memories so precious.
Eating dinner our first night at Steve’s house – from left to right: Thomas, Jake, me, Samuel, Kathleen, Mom, and Dad
The sermon today and the interactions I had with my family members also reminded me what makes endings a little sweet rather than only bitter. After all, there certainly are endings that leave us with only a bitter taste in our mouths. What gives moments meaning is the kindness exchanged within them. Love makes life worth living.
The best way to make the most of the moment I am in is to focus on being kind to those around me. When I am that devoted to being kind and cognizant of others’ needs, it helps me to remember to be present with those around me. So, when those moments end and it is time to say goodbye, the farewell is not nearly as bitter because I have made so many fond memories with those I love.
The most beautiful thing about today’s ending is that I know it is not final. While I am not sure when I will see these family members again, I do know that we will be reunited someday. The beauty of today’s ending is that, while this chapter has come to a close, the story is not yet finished.
The majority of our day in Arizona was uneventful. Everyone in the house seemed to be tired after the late night we had yesterday, so we decided to have a lazy day. We watched Hamilton and played games, and a couple of us even decided to enjoy an afternoon nap.
In the evening, Steve, Isabella, Kathleen, my mom, and I sat around the table to play cards. Dad retired to bed early, and Jake headed upstairs with Samuel and Thomas to play Mario Kart. Hours passed as we laughed and drank, determined to make the most of our last evening together in Tucson.
Near the end of the game, Thomas and Samuel came bounding down the stairs, followed by Jake, who was holding his right leg awkwardly in front of him as he hopped on his left foot.
“I was bitten by a scorpion,” he announced. A beat of silence followed this statement before all of us at the table stood.
“You were what,” Mom demanded.
“Bitten by a scorpion,” Jake repeated. He, ironically, seemed to be the calmest person in the room.
“Where?” Steve asked.
“In one of the bedrooms,” Jake said. “We were playing hide-and-seek.”
“He’s probably gone by now,” Steve said. Despite this, he still followed Jake back upstairs to the bedroom. A moment later we could hear the stomping of a heavy shoe, the sound that told us the scorpion had been both found and killed.
Mom ran out of the room to wake Dad, while I turned to the two girls.
“Get me some gauze and something sturdy to make a tourniquet,” I said. They both ran out of the room as I grabbed my phone to call 911. This, however, went out of my head as soon as Jake came back into the room. He rushed to his backpack, tore it open, and pulled out a military style belt, which he wrapped tightly around his upper leg.
“It says to do a cold compress and to keep the area elevated,” Kathleen said as she returned, reading off her phone. Isabella followed her and set the gauze I had asked for on the table.
“Tyler,” my mom called as she ran back into the room. “You’re driving.”
“I can’t drive,” I exclaimed.
“You need to,” she said. This, I realized a moment later, was true. Of all the adults present, I was the most sober.
Steve thankfully remembered to call 911 as I left the room to grab the car keys. I went to start the car, but after waiting for a few moments, I realized my family was not following. I ran back inside.
“Jake, you are going to cut off circulation to your leg,” I heard my mom say. “Loosen it up a bit.”
“No,” I exclaimed, rushing into the room. “That’s what a tourniquet is supposed to do.” Jake was lying on the couch, his foot elevated on my dad’s shoulder.
“How do you feel,” I asked him.
“It hurts,” he said to me with a smile. His jovial attitude reassured me. Steve walked into the room saying it was recommended we take Jake to the hospital. We helped Jake hop to the car, where I returned to my spot in the driver’s seat.
Luckily, I had drank very little, and we arrived at the hospital 20 minutes later. I dropped Jake off at the Emergency Room with our parents and then parked the car. Jake’s last request to me as he hobbled out was to keep his girlfriend, Jess, updated. I reassured him that I would, so the first thing I did in that hospital waiting room was send her a text of what I knew.
My parents and I waited in silence. A few minutes ticked by before the doctor emerged.
“He is going to be fine,” she said. “I gave him an ice pack, and we are going to monitor him to make sure he doesn’t have a reaction.”
“How long will that take,” my mom asked.
“At least an hour,” she said. “Also, unfortunately, because of COVID, you all can’t wait here. You can wait in your car, or you can go home, and he can call you when he is ready.”
We walked out of the hospital, each a little torn on what to do. When we got back in the car, my dad asked my mom if she wanted to stay or go.
“I guess we can go back to the house,” she said. I, personally, wanted to stay in the parking lot. I knew if it had been me in that room, it would be reassuring to know that my family members were so close by. But I reversed the car and drove out of the parking lot.
As we were driving back, Mom received a call from Steve. She relayed to him what the doctor had told us, and then she said that she was going to drop off me and Dad at the house and then return to the hospital. When she got off of the phone, there was a short pause before I spoke.
“I didn’t know you were planning on dropping us off at the house,” I said.
“Neither did I,” Dad said.
“If I had known, I would have just stayed at the hospital,” I said. “I don’t want to just wait at home.”
“Yeah, you’re not going back to the hospital alone,” Dad said. The bit of composure Mom had held onto until this point finally left her, and she broke down in tears.
“Then you make the decision, David,” she said. “I don’t want to make it.”
“Okay, let’s go back to the house,” Dad said, thinking practically. “It’s only 20 minutes away and we are already almost there. And when Jake calls, we will go straight back.” Mom agreed, but her tears only intensified. I checked the GPS and saw we were halfway between the house and hospital. With a deep breath, I pulled over the car onto a side road.
“This isn’t your turn,” Mom said.
“I know,” I replied. I parked the car and then turned to her.
“What do you want to do?” I asked. Mom didn’t answer me. “I think we should go back,” I said.
“You should ask your dad,” Mom said.
“It’s not about what I want,” Dad said. “It’s about what you want. What do you want to do?” Mom didn’t answer.
“Okay,” I said, putting the car back into drive. “We’re going back to the hospital. That’s clearly what you want to do. It’s what we all want to do.” I turned the car around and headed back down the highway. A few moments of silence passed before Mom spoke.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. At this moment, Dad’s phone began to ring. It was good that we turned around when we did because it was Jake calling – the hospital needed insurance information.
I drove back to the emergency room entrance, and Dad left the car. Through the windows, I could see Jake standing with a nurse in the waiting room.
“That’s Jake,” Mom exclaimed tearfully. “He’s standing up! That must mean he’s okay and he’s ready to come home, right?” She turned to me, her eyes hopeful and desperate, as if confirmation of this question was the lifeline she needed.
“I don’t know,” I told her. Mom bit her lip and looked back out the windshield, and then she rushed out of the car to greet her son, who was exiting the hospital. The two of them returned with Dad to the car.
My family. From left to right, Jake, Jess, Dad, me, and Mom
Jake was still in high spirits. On the ride home, he finally told us the full story: He had run into Steve’s bedroom during a game of hide-and-seek. The scorpion had been hiding right in the shadows behind the doorway. Jake said the sting had not hurt as bad as he would have thought. At first, he thought maybe it was a splinter. Then, after looking at it, he saw the area was red and swollen, so he thought maybe he had stepped on a bee. He used his phone flashlight to see what he had stepped on, and that’s when he saw the small, spider-like creature.
He did tell us it is actually not a good idea to use a tourniquet when stung or bit by a venomous animal.
“I knew it,” Mom exclaimed. The doctors had told Jake that using a tourniquet restricts all the venom in a high consistency to one area, so when the tourniquet is taken off, they have no way of controlling the venom spread into the rest of the body. It is better to elevate the bitten or stung area and let the venom seep slowly, in a more controlled state, through the bloodstream.
We returned to the house, where Jake’s main concern was where the scorpion was now. To his immense disappointment, Steve told him it had been flushed down the toilet. He had wanted to keep it, or at least get a picture, as a souvenir of his experience.
What do you do when someone you love is hurt? It’s difficult to know what to do, and everyone reacts differently. Some of us are overwhelmed by our own empathy and emotions; no one likes seeing someone they love in pain. Others become cool headed and practical, thinking only of the logical next step. Some become rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear, while others snap into action as if they have been training for this for years. The interesting thing is there is no way to predict how you will react until you are in the situation; there is no way to prepare for the swarm of nauseating emotions or rush of adrenaline that will hit you. And the unfortunate thing is that you are most likely to make mistakes or do something unhelpful, such as recommending a tourniquet for a wound that shouldn’t have it, or being so overwhelmed by choices to make that you become too petrified to make any decision for fear it will be wrong.
Me and my brother
What we can’t do is let these mistakes and shortcomings dismay us. After all, having made these errors means we did do the most important thing anyone can for someone in pain: We were there. We were present with the person who was hurting, and we did what we could and what we knew how to do. I am so grateful for each of my family members and the different skills they brought to the table, and I am especially appreciative for the doctors who knew what Jake actually needed.
And now that I am out of the situation and can finally think about how I feel, I am so very grateful that my brother is safe and healthy. His good sense of humor, kind disposition, and relaxed approach to life are always things I have admired and loved, and I could not imagine my life without my younger brother.
What do you do when someone you love is hurt? Hopefully, you just get the chance to be there with them.
