Hello blogger followers… isn't this fun?

Today's food for thought & inspiration comes courtesy of Dan Bolen. Dan is the founder of the Bank of Prairie Village here in my home state of Kansas.

I was so inspired by his recent Chairman’s letter I am sharing some excerpts below...

Thirty some years ago I remember a beautiful Autumn late Sunday morning, sitting on the front porch of my fraternity house nursing a rather large cup of coffee. I vaguely recollect thinking that if I stared at the coffee cup long enough, it would reveal the mystery of where I had left my car the night before.

Up the fraternity circular driveway came one of those enormously long luxury cars of the late 1970's. It was of the old Detroit variety -the type that had both a hood and trunk roughly equal to the size of a formal dining room table. I can't remember if it was a Cadillac El Dorado or a Lincoln Continental -but I did know it was not the type of car a college student could afford.

I was surprised as the driver stepped out. Instead of the expected sports coat or business suit, the 50s something hard looking man was wearing a cowboy hat, western cut coat, and boots. The face was wind burned and weather lined. Even with a pounding brain, I summoned the manners~(reinforced by the prior year's pledge training) to stand up and welcome him.

The visitor looked at me and my coffee cup. Nodding in my direction, he simultaneously pulled a cigarette and Zippo flip-top lighter from his pockets, lit up and repocketed the lighter in one swift, practiced motion.

He took a long drag and while exhaling said, "Son, you can sit there all day staring at the coffee cup. I suggest you find some of the dog that bit you, take a long slug and start doing something useful." With that he turned, looked at the front door of the fraternity and requested I "go rouse up" his son and "bring him out to daylight."

I found his son buried deep under the covers of his third floor rack. With much shaking and cajoling, I managed to convey that his dad was on the front porch.

It was then that I witnessed one of the fastest adrenaline fused sobriety recoveries of my collegiate career. In an instant the previously prone young man jumped from the bunk bed, grabbed his clothes and managed to completely dress himself while rushing down three flights of stairs.

By the time I stumbled back down to the front porch for my coffee, the cowboy dad and his son had more or less finished their conversation. Placing his arm on his boy's shoulder and in a deep tobacco cured voice, the cowboy Dad commented loud enough for me to hear, "Now remember son, don't let your schooling get in the way of your education."

I spent the rest of the morning sipping my coffee---contemplating the cowboy dad's remark, (and still trying to remember where I left my car). I later learned the cowboy dad was one of the largest ranchers and among the most astute businessmen in the state of Kansas.

Years later I cannot tell you what classes I took that Fall semester or whether I have ever utilized anything from them in my professional career. However, I do know the rancher's admonishment to recognize the difference between schooling and education has both stuck to and served me well.