Knowing Where You’re At. Or Something Like It.

South Floridian Travis Johnson, from Perry Noble via Toby Morgan, let us know the following:

We can’t get to where we’re going until we first admit where we are.

This quotation–and the way he got to it–reminds me of something that happened to my father many years ago while trying to run our family business in West Palm Beach.  Our office and plant were about two blocks apart; he called from the office to the plant.

“Who is this?”  my father asked.

“Me,” the voice replied.

“Where are you?” my father queried, looking for substantive information.

“Right here,” the voice came back.

My father hung up.  There wasn’t anything else left to say.

You may know where your’re at.  You may even know where you’re going.  But if no one else knows, it may not matter.  And it’s hard to help people when they don’t know where you’re at, let along where you’re going.

Post-modern dialogue?  Nah.  Just another day in South Florida.

Above: our West Palm Beach plant in April 1984, just before we sold the facility and ended getting answers like my father used to get.

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