Fail Up (21 page)
In my case, I discovered that rejection was really a new direction. I was downcast when I wasn't elected a public servant. But when you think about it, I am a public servant. What I do now is public serviceâliterally and figuratively; I'm on public radio and public TV. My platforms allow me to introduce Americans to each other; challenge them to reexamine the assumptions they hold; and help them to expand their inventory of ideas.
In what direction would my life have gone had I been elected to the city council? I used to think about that all the time. There have been at least two occasions when the powers that be have approached me about running for an open seat in Congress from California. If I had accepted their offer, perhaps I could have been a member of the United States Congress.
But then what?
In the political arena, there's no way I could have established the platforms that I have doing what I love to do every day. As a broadcaster, I am unencumbered by the responsibilities of raising millions to be reelected, paying back political favors and swallowing compromises that betray my values. I am blessed with a rare level of independence, and when politicians or other notables want to get their positions or projects out to the public, they ask to be on my shows.
I've never dictated the journey. And, as we can see, God had a far better plan for me.
The key to success is self-knowledge and developing a vision of your life that inspires you. This, too, was something I discussed with Bartiromo. In her book, she poignantly observed that “Dr. King never said, âI have a business plan.' He said, âI have a dream.'
“We want a dream and we want a vision, but we want that vision built on solid ground. We want to know that it's realistic,” Bartiromo continued. “So the first law of success is knowing yourself. Self-knowledge. Know what you can do. Know where your love is and what you have in your belly, that fire in your belly, to actually do well. Once you have a clear picture of who you are, what you can accomplish, where you'd like to go, you can start actually putting a vision together to get there.”
To “get there,” it is so vitally important that we keep rejection in proper perspective. Actor, director, and producer Sylvester Stallone put it this way: “I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle in my ear to wake me up and get going, rather than to retreat.”
The way life has unfolded, I'm now much more comfortable when things don't go the way I think they're supposed to. Experience has schooled me well. Now, when my friends call me to complain about not getting this or missing out on that opportunity, I listen intently, but inevitably I encourage them to consider the possibility that their desires weren't aligned with their destinies. Or, as best-selling author James Lee Burke phrases it: “There's nothing like rejection to make you do an inventory of yourself.”
I never minimize their frustrations or disappointments. Whatever advice or encouragement I give, it circles back to the underlying theme of this chapter:
“We plan and God laughs.”
“H
e was a rock star. I remember being in Athens with him; everybody coming down the path would stop and talk to him and say, âAren't you Tom Bradley?'”
Bee Lavery, Mayor Bradley's chief of protocol, captured his essence perfectly. A Los Angeles icon, the mayor was beloved by many. It wasn't just because he showed LA how to rise above its racial animosity during his two campaigns in 1969 and 1973. His administration gave the city a much-needed, progressive facelift, but that wasn't the sum total of Mayor Bradley's legacy either. Winning the rights to host the 1984 Olympic Games and pulling off a successful, surplus-producing event was a major accomplishment; but even that didn't completely encompass the full range of his “rock star” standing.
In Hollywood, looks can carry a person a long way. And Mr. Mayorâthe tall, statuesque, former UCLA track star and former police commanderâhad the “look,” the vitality, fitness, and charisma of an LA mayor. This is in no way to diminish his unprecedented political contributions, but, like Bee Lavery, I served with the man. I saw how people, especially women, responded to his presence. It was through him that I learned an important maxim: “If you want to be perceived as a sharp and smart individual, you have to live and dress the part.”
The “Bradley way” was on my mind when my ex-boss called and asked to have lunch with me. This was long after he had left office and I was hosting my show on BET. I knew he was proud of me; after all, I was the ambitious kid he tapped to intern for him and later hired as his assistant. He watched me pull myself up after I left his administration and unsuccessfully ran for a Los Angeles city council seat. My shields were lowered when we sat down for lunch. So I was stunned by his opening salvo:
“Tavis, you've gotten too big.”
All Things Considered â¦
The mayor didn't mean “big” as in big-headed celebrity big. He straight out told me I had gotten too fat. Which was true. I was carrying about 70 pounds too much. I started packing on the weight after three basketball- and tennisrelated injuries.
Over the course of three years, I had lateral meniscus tears in both knees and tore the Achilles tendon in my right foot. In between rehabbing and recuperating from those injuries and surgeries, I had gained 70 pounds. As a result, my back hurt, I had trouble breathing, and I suffered from sleep apneaâeverything that comes along with being overweight. That was tough for me; I had been skinny most of my life.
It was in my grossly overweight phase that Mayor Bradley called. Of course, he was unaware of my injuries. He just turned on BET, saw his bloated former intern on the air, and, I suppose, decided it was time to arrange a one-onone intervention.
This elder statesman was always a man of few words, so he wasted not one syllable when addressing me:
“Tavis, I don't want to preach to you, but I've found this to be true in my 80 years of living, and I want you to always remember this: All other things being equalâand do not forget the first part of this formulation,” he stressed; “all other things being equal, the person who looks the bestâ9.9 times out of 10âwill always win.
“If two people are applying for a job and have the exact same qualifications except one is overweight and sloppy, and the other is lean and well-groomed, the more fit person will most always win.”
If I didn't get the weight off and keep it off, my former boss insisted, I was going to loseânot based on intellectâ“you'll always have that,” he added, but on “aesthetics.”
“You have always been on top of your game, and I don't ever want to see you lose,” he continued in a fatherly tone. “Remember, all other things being equal ⦠you have to keep it tight, keep it tight, Tavis.”
Remembering Bradley
Not long after our meeting, Tom Bradley suffered a heart attack and, later, a stroke that left him partially paralyzed and unable to speak for the remainder of his life. Two years after our luncheon, Tom Bradley passed away at the age of 80.
That luncheon stays with me, not necessarily because of what the mayor said; it was the way he expressed concern for my health and career. The mayor and ex-police commander rarely talked to me on a personal level like he did at that luncheon. I felt the love and genuine concern in his admonition. This was a man who wanted me to continue to be a winner. His point was well takenâ“all things being equal ⦔: I had to get myself in shape.
I hired a trainer and went to work on losing those 70 pounds. With my tendency toward overcompensation, I completed three marathons, despite my trainer's warnings. Of course, I broke my left foot at mile 20 of my first 26.2- mile marathon, but, hey, I finished the race. I have stayed on a regimen designed to keep my weight under control, although it remains a daily struggle.
During our luncheon, Mayor Bradley made a convincing “win or lose” argument. However, today, on a larger societal scale, it's no longer about keeping your weight down simply to advance your career; it's about advancing your life.
From Win or Lose to Life or Death
Staying tight, keeping fit is not just about winning or losing a job as Mayor Bradley stressed. Today, it's a life-ordeath reality.
According to NetWellness, a nonprofit consumer health Website, some of the most serious diseases and causes of death for Blacks like me include diabetes, heart disease, most forms of cancer, stroke, and AIDS. African Americans tend to develop high blood pressure at younger ages than other groups, and Blacksâboth men and womenâsuffer disproportionately from a variety of cancers as compared to whites.
While it's no laughing matter, my friend the comedian, George Wallace, jokes that he doesn't understand why Black men even have to pay into social security, since we're not going to be around long enough to collect anyway!
We also have the highest obesity rates, with 37 percent of Black men and nearly 50 percent of Black women topping out the category. Hispanic and Black children also have higher rates of childhood diabetes than white children.
Too many kids, especially Black and Latino kids, are grossly overweight. Recent data from the Centers for Disease Control show that 20 percent of African American and Hispanic children ages 2 to 19 are obese versus 15 percent of white children. Experts say that the growth of obesity and childhood Type 2 diabetes in the past 10 or 20 years is directly related to sedentary lifestyles, video games, and junk food consumption.
“The introduction of computers, hand-held and video games has had an alarming effect on children,” says Megann Dastrup, a Verde Valley Medical Center dietician, in an article “Poor Diet and Sedentary Lifestyle Linked to Childhood Diabetes.” Being inside and inactive, sitting in front of televisions or computers, watching fast-food commercials that trigger desires to eat fast and fatty foods are all complicit in the web of lifestyle choices that lead to premature death.
The personal struggle to overcome my own weight problems has turned into a public, anti-obesity advocacy campaign. I have been drawn onto the battlefield with those fighting other deadly diseases that disproportionately impact African Americans and send them to early graves. It's impossible to number the health fairs I've hosted, attended, or sponsored. A permanent fixture in my outreach efforts are the “Road to Health” seminars and segments on my PBS show.
The issue is very important to me. In my mind, success in politics, entertainment, or the media means absolutely nothing if politicians, actors, or media folk don't use their power and platforms to improve the lives of their constituents and audiences.
Take Al Roker of the
Today
show as an example. Before undergoing gastric bypass surgery in 2002, he weighed in at an astonishing 320 pounds. Someone dear to Roker asked that he lose some weight. Unlike the advice I received from Mayor Bradley, the request Roker received came during a hospital visit with his father, Al Roker, Sr., who was dying from cancer.
In 2010, he told his colleagues about a hospital visit in 2001 where he was with his Dad, who said there was something very important he needed to share with his eldest son. He knew his time was short. Roker recalled that day with his Dad, a long-time New York City bus driver: “He said to me: âLook. You've got to promise me that you're going to lose weight. We both know I'm not going to be here to help you with my grandchildren. So you've got to promise me.'”
Al made the promise.
That evening his father lost the ability to speak. Three weeks later he passed away.
The TV weatherman has kept his word. And to this day, he credits his dying father's last wish for motivating him to tackle his obesity problem. Al lost nearly 140 pounds and 20 suit sizes. Yes, there was a slight relapse, but when he told the story in June 2010, he weighed in at an impressive 204 pounds.
Equally impressive is the 2007 documentary on childhood obesity that he produced for the Food Network:
Childhood Obesity:
Danger Zone
. The 57-year-old NBC personality used his own experience and battles with weight control to explore the serious weight problems and the health risks more than 12 million obese American children and teenagers face every day.
