Scotty and I met through a cowbell, yep, a cowbell. We attended the same college, but had never met. At one soccer game, I showed up with some rowdy friends prepared to support the home team.

The phone rang and it was an unusual number. This is not uncommon in my life because I have speaking engagements all over the country. While I always answer, sometimes I answer very hesitantly wondering who is on the other end.

Life has a way of muddying the waters. Days string together. Events happen in ways that cause us to end up confused and make us lose our focus on the important things in life.

My fingers tremble and I get a lump my throat, when I even make an attempt to explain this concept. We all have these people in our lives-- the teachers, the nurses, the social workers, the ones who spend their days helping others. We all turn to these people in time of need.

Dejected, rejected, and defeated, we contemplated how far we would have to hike to reach the next available campsite. We decided there was no way we could accomplish further hiking.

I hated it at first. But, who falls in love with their father's favorite 1960s Western the first time he makes you watch it? Over time, I grew to more than tolerate, "The Magnificent Seven,"  the movie my dad would watch any time it was on TV.

As I listened, a comment by a young female student stuck with me.  “I felt like you talked with us, instead of at us,” she said.

I’m sitting in a room with all females and we are getting to the part of the presentation I’m scared to engage in. There are seven females around a table and I’m two minutes away from talking about rape culture. Every neuron is firing in my brain screaming, “You are a white American male of European descent in his mid 30s; you should not be talking about this topic.”