TAPPING INTO THE POWER OF POSITIVE THINKING...AGAIN

My lucky number is twenty-two.  My mother's birthday is August 22nd but that's not where it originated.  Coincidentally, it was my dad who put the magic in that number.

During the Depression, my dad grew up a New York Giants football fan.  His parents managed to keep their heads above water but there was no room for amenities.  Therefore, it wouldn't be until dad was sixteen, (November 12, 1944), that his friend's uncle hooked them up with freebies to a Giants game.  More importantly, the uncle's influence was so great that they were also promised the equivalent of backstage passes, (meeting the victorious players in the locker room after their anticipated shellacking of the Philadelphia Eagles...who, two weeks earlier, had handed them their only loss that season).

A wry smile always came to dad's face when he told me how secondary the game was compared to meeting his heroes like Arnie Herber, getting autographs or the ultimate jackpot, the gift of a pro football.

Of course it wouldn't be a story if everything went right...but the gargantuans of the gridiron didn't lose...they tied 21-21.  Some how, the team was so disheartened by the manner of this outcome that non-essential visitors to the locker room weren't permitted in. 

The opportunity of a lifetime...spoiled!  My poor little immature dad was pissed-off.  His disappointment was so strong that he not only turned his back on the Giants forever but he became New York City's most ardent Philadelphia Eagles fan. Even when I became a New York Jets fan in 1963, his loyalties were still flying high with the, "Birds."

When I was eight, Dad wanted to indoctrinate me into being an Eagles fan.  Ever so clever, he incorporated a visit to the Eagles training camp with a vacation to Hershey, Pennsylvania.  That day I got a ton of Eagles autographs.  Through all the time and moving around the country, I still have this treasure.

AUTOGRAPH COLLECTING WAS FAR LESS SOPHISTICATED 49 YEARS AGO.  SO WHILE THIS TEN-PAGE HERSHEY'S BROCHURE CONTAINS MANY SIGNIFICANT SIGNATURES, THE FACT THAT THEY ARE  SCRIBBLED OR WRITTEN ON A PRINTED PAGE REDUCE IT TO MERELY SENTIMENTAL VALUE. SOME OF THE LEGIBLE SIGNATURES INCLUDE, MAXIE BAUGHN, PETE RETZLAFF, KING HILL AND NATE RAMSEY.  I'M SURE THERE'S MANY OTHERS BUT THEY ARE UNINTELLIGIBLE .

The one autograph that I know is there but I can't make out, is Timmy Brown, (#22).  I know its there because he was my father's favorite player.  Dad would ramble on about Brown's exploits so strongly that soon he became my favorite. When we got home, dad even painted green Eagle-like wings on my red, toy football helmet with the number twenty-two printed in the back.

AR FRANKLIN FIELD, TIM BROWN WAS A SLASHING SCAT BACK, AN ADEPT RECEIVER AND A FEARED KICKOFF AND PUNT RETURNER.

Unfortunately, most kids my age and their older brothers never heard of Tim Brown.  Therefore, I was told that I was wrong that the great running back was not Tim Brown #22 but Jim Brown #32.

MY CURRENT OPINION THAT HALL-OF-FAMER JIM BROWN IS THE GREATEST RUNNING BACK IN NFL HISTORY IS COMMON.  HIS COMBINATION OF POWER, SPEED AND DETERMINATION MADE HIM A FEARED AND LASTING ICON.  BUT BACK THEN, I WAS TOO YOUNG TO COMPREHEND THAT THERE COULD BE TWO MEN WITH SUCH SIMILAR NAMES, NOTORIETY, UNIFORM NUMBERS AND FOOTBALL POSITIONS.

Through the embarrassment of being told that I was crazy for telling the world that Tim Brown was the best, I stuck to my guns even when I received my reality check.  I remained stubborn even when I understood that there was a Timmy and a Jimmy Brown.  I proved that by remaining loyal to Tim and the number twenty-two for nearly half a century.

The significance of my lucky number has again risen up.  Almost to exact day of this post, I reached the twenty-second anniversary at my job.  While the economics of the day have hurt the joy of working there...a new and improved rival is ready to open its doors.

I applied.  I went through the wringer of the process and believed I took a top-notch interview.  Srill, I was rejected.  I felt so strongly that his was the right path for me, that I re-applied for a lesser position.  Again, I went through the close scrutiny of the interview process.  While waiting for the good news, I did not pray or hum my mantra ad nauseam.  Perhaps I should have because I was not accepted, again.   

Unhappily, I accepted being left behind.  Then out of the clear blue, I was invited to re-interview for the lesser position.  I feel that I understood what they were looking for and felt that I did an even better job in making myself look alluring for their purposes.

I WAS ABLE TO TAP INTO MY 1974 DISNEY TRAINING WHICH IS WHAT THEY WANT.  TO ME, IT WOULD BE A PRIVILEGE TO IN A PLACE WHO'S VERY NAME MEANS, "MERRIMENT."  I JUST HOPE I MADE MY POSITIVE ATTITUDE AND EXPERIENCED ABILITIES CLEAR.

The new place is ready to open tomorrow.  I was told that I would be notified within two weeks.  So atypically, I have reached-out to high-ranking people in their organization, to help carry me over the last hurdle.

TIME IS RUNNING OUT.  BUT I WILL REMAIN OPTIMISTIC.  MAYBE IN THE FINAL DAYS, I'LL ADOPT THE MANTRA OF HUMMING, "TWENTY-TWOOOOOOOOOO."

I am one hundred percent ready for this change.  I just wish I wasn't typing this column on April Fool's Day...but I am.  So maybe the joke is in me?   To counteract superstition, perhaps the best idea would to get all my readers (or at least twenty-two of you), to spiritually hold hands and sing, "Kumbaya." 

If you're not included in this extravaganza, please do whatever you gotta do help me succeed.  I know you can do it.  When it works, my next blog will include me wearing a new uniform and an ear to ear grin...thanks to you.