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Opportunity lost


Tizeye

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I had to opportunity to go to the University of Strasbourg, France and work with a top chemist, Jean Marie Lehn, who was doing pioneering work on "Proton Cryptates" where a hydrogen ion is locked inside of a cage of carbon atoms through clever synthetic tricks, where it can function as a pure acid and be used to make chemicals otherwise unmakeable.  My French was good, my work was in the same field, my research advisor Jerry Kresge and Lehn worked together on some projects, and that put me at the top of the list of recruits.

I had typed a lot of translations of Lehn's publications in French journals for Kresge.  I was able to think in French so well back then that I sometimes typed stuff like, "Stir in 100 mL of Eau..." and when Kresge asked me what "Eau" was I said, "Oh, I forgot to think of the word "Water" in English!"  So I was totally prepared for France.

But there was a recession and there was a big problem for graduate chemists coming back from overseas to the USA and finding decent jobs.

So I passed it up.  Later, Lehn won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry and his grad students and post docs could write their own ticket to their choices of great jobs!

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I passed on the chance to be night manager of a convenience store, and passed up the daytime server’s position at the pizza bar, and I didn’t take that shack-up indefinitely proposal from a guy who painted signs for a living. No brushes with greatness in my experiences. 

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I was scouted for pro ball as a teen.  They held an 'open' scout camp in our area.  Two nights before I got a call saying to be at the park on the day for 8 o'clock to run some drills.  The day before, work took me out of town unexpectedly and I didnt get back in time so didnt bother going late,  thinking I would just go next time.

Turns out the open tryout started at 10, and only 3 people (counting me) were told to be there at 8.  The other 2 went on to pro careers.  I never got looked at again because "I didnt want it "

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The Parable of the Farmer and His Fate
 

There is an age-old Chinese parable about a farmer and his fate. It goes something like this: there once lived an old farmer who had diligently tended to his crops for many years. He relied on his trusty, hard-working horse to plow the fields. But one day, the horse broke through the fence and ran away. Upon hearing this news, the farmer’s neighbors rushed over to the farmer to voice their concern. “What bad luck this is,” they said, “You will not have your horse during the critical planting season.” The farmer listened intently, nodding his head as if in agreement, smiling slightly. Then he spoke softly, “Bad luck, good luck — who really knows?”

A few days later the horse, accompanied by two wild horses, returned to the farmer’s stable. The farmer immediately realized that he could train these two new horses to help him plow his field more efficiently. Soon after, the neighbors heard about this and visited the farmer. “You are now blessed with three strong horses,” they said in unison, “What great luck this is!” But the laconic farmer simply replied, “Good luck, bad luck — who really knows?”

The farmer gave one of the untamed horses to his son. While riding the horse, the son was thrown off and broke his leg. The farmer’s neighbors came around again and expressed their worry, “It is a shame that your son will not be able to help you during planting season. This is such bad luck!” The farmer smiled faintly, and said “Bad luck, good luck — who really knows?”

A few days later, the Chinese emperor’s army rode ominously into town under gray clouds. The general’s order was to draft the eldest son from every family into the army. One of the soldiers took one look at the farmer’s son’s broken leg and motioned to have him left behind. The army marched out of town while tearful residents waved goodbye to their sons, knowing that they may not see them again. Later in the day, the neighbors gathered at the farmer’s house. “You are the only family that did not have their son drafted into the army,” they said. “This is such good luck!” The farmer, who was busy with his chores, looked up and said, “Good luck, bad luck — who really knows?”

This timeless Chinese parable teaches us that luck can be paradoxical — bad luck can be very good luck (and vice-versa). Another lesson is that fate — whether considered “good luck” or “bad luck” — is a matter of perspective. This is one of the greatest lessons that Viktor E. Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, teaches us: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” [Emphasis added] from Man’s Search for Meaning published in 1946.

The parable also reminds us of the famous proverb “every cloud has a silver lining” that originated in the late 1800s. That is to say, one should never feel down and hopeless because challenging times lead to happier, better days ahead. The proverb also introduces a very important metaphor about life — every situation in life is transitory; gray clouds that create dark days will eventually pass, allowing the sun’s radiant light to shine through. Or expressed another way, no matter how dark the night, each dawn ushers in a new day full of hope and new opportunities.

At another level, the parable teaches about a very important life lesson: acceptance. Rather than creating drama around a situation that is either “good luck” or “bad luck” it is best to follow the Taoist tradition of detachment and acceptance. It is important not to celebrate the good luck or scorn the bad luck too excessively. Moreover, it is critical to simply accept life as it is, rather than expending energy to consider what could have been or should have been. Only then one can fully consider the question that my Jesuit mentors often posed: “what is the next, best step?”

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21 hours ago, maddmaxx said:

I could have stayed in the Navy.  :nodhead:

 

 

 

 

 

 

:lol:

Similar, except was Air Force. When passed over for Major (guarantees 20 year retirement) it is a crunch point where Captains are involuntary discharged with severance, that also prohibits back door retirements joining reserves, etc. Presidential override of promotion board selection- official when signed by the President - was the only exception. My uncle was an Undersecretary in the Dept of Defense, briefing 6 Presidents (and Cabinets) weekly in his career. He asked me if I wanted him to speak with the President. Thanked him but declined. Would have been an all time first for my specialty MOS - jaws would have dropped when reversal came through with “Who does he know?” 

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In the 70's my sister had a job lined up for me in a uranium mine somewhere in Utah.  Multiple hour shifts in a hazmat suit (such as it was at the time) sent in on your back on a belt to chip away at ore.  I don't remember what the pay was but it was exceptional for the time.  Even I knew it was an opportunity to become a statistic. 

And then there was the opportunity to play in the NBA.  I was this close - only lacking a jump shot, the ability to dribble and jump and my defensive skills.  I was this close...

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1 hour ago, Tizeye said:

Similar, except was Air Force. When passed over for Major (guarantees 20 year retirement) it is a crunch point where Captains are involuntary discharged with severance, that also prohibits back door retirements joining reserves, etc. Presidential override of promotion board selection- official when signed by the President - was the only exception. My uncle was an Undersecretary in the Dept of Defense, briefing 6 Presidents (and Cabinets) weekly in his career. He asked me if I wanted him to speak with the President. Thanked him but declined. Would have been an all time first for my specialty MOS - jaws would have dropped when reversal came through with “Who does he know?” 

With me, the war was ending and the conditions that led to my medical deferment (to stay in not out) were fading.  These were the Zumwalt years when the CNO was trying to create a service more suited to keeping well trained sailors than letting them escape to civilian industry where they could make considerably more money.  In return, the mid level navy management was resisting, sure that discipline should be maintained at all costs and that no one should ever have a hair in their sideburn longer than they felt was proper.

An example of the latter was given to me on my last day on active service.  I was standing a noon to 4pm watch on the mid ships brow (active working hatch and entry between the pier and the ship)  I had inadvertently packed my dress shoes away for the trip home and all I had onboard were my work shoes.  I shined them as best I could and stood the watch.  The hardass COB (chief of the boat and senior chief petty officer on board what be in charge of all things petty or otherwise) took offense and rather than being human required that I go to the ships store, purchase a new pair of dress shoes, spit shine them and stand the remainder of my watch and the watch of the person who took my place.

I was discharged the next morning and before I left Norfolk, the COB paid dearly for his actions. (involved car, tars, flats etc).  Such things were part of my decisions to get out while the getting was good.  I think a good run of being in the Navy yet not quite in the Navy was coming to an end.  12 more years and I could have retired at age 39 however.

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