From Living It Daily

The Other Option

by Rusty Norman

My mind has a habit of wandering off on its own — sometimes to places I never planned to go. I’ve made peace with that over the years. More often than not, the journey turns out to be worth taking, even when I couldn’t have told you where it was headed. And every now and then, it leads somewhere that sticks with you — something you carry forward without quite meaning to, until one morning it surfaces again and reminds you why it mattered in the first place.

This morning was one of those times.

I was sitting quietly, thinking through the day ahead, when my eyes landed on a plaque I made years ago and hung in my dining room. That’s a habit of mine. When a phrase or idea grabs hold of me — really grabs hold — I make a plaque and give it a place on the wall. I have quite a few of them scattered through the house by now, in different rooms, at different heights, each one marking a moment when something clicked. I don’t make a ritual of reading them every morning. But there are days when one catches my eye, and suddenly I’m right back in the moment that put it there.

I’ve always believed that words worth keeping deserve to be seen. Tucked in a journal or saved in a file, they tend to get buried. But on a wall, they have a way of finding you when you need them — sometimes when you didn’t even know you needed them.

I know I’m not the only one who does something like this. Whether it’s a scripture on a shelf, a quote on a mantel, or a hand-lettered sign above a doorway — those small, deliberate displays carry real weight. They’re reminders that someone else has walked a road like ours, faced something hard or uncertain, and found words worth holding onto along the way. There’s real comfort in that. The road can feel lonely sometimes, and it helps to be reminded that others have traveled it too — and made it through.

This morning’s plaque carried me straight back to a specific afternoon in the early 1990s, not long after I took over my father’s business. One of my longtime customers — a semi-retired Marine and successful business owner — called asking for help setting up a new fax machine. I suppose that dates the story a little, but bear with me. I came out to his place, walked him through everything, and had him send a test fax to my office. I told him I’d confirm it when I got back, then send one in return and ask him to reply — just to make sure he had the full picture and felt confident using it on his own.

When I returned to my office, his fax was waiting. I smiled, picked up the line, and sent my

reply:

Sent

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.
Or, drop back twelve and punt.

Received

Have improvised. Am adapting. Attempting to overcome.
Also have kicking shoe…

I sat back and laughed out loud. I hadn’t expected that — not the humor, and certainly not the quiet depth tucked inside it. He hadn’t just played along with the format. He’d taken it seriously, answered it honestly, and then added something I hadn’t thought to include. “Also have kicking shoe.” Not an admission of failure. Not a retreat. A quiet declaration that he was ready for whatever came next — punt and all.

That response has stayed with me ever since, and I think I understand why. “Improvise, Adapt, Overcome” is a powerful way to move through life. It’s a call to press forward, to find a way through, to refuse to be stopped. I admire that — I’ve tried to live by it. But what my customer understood, with a kind of hard-won wisdom I’ve come to respect more and more over the years, is that the kicking shoe has its place too. There are moments when the most honest and intelligent thing you can do is recognize that the play isn’t working and choose a different one.

That’s not giving up. That’s good judgment. And in my experience, the people who get that — who can press hard when pressing is called for, and step back when stepping back is the smarter move — are the ones who tend to come out the other side in one piece.

I’ve had to reach for that kicking shoe more times than I expected when I was younger. Some of those moments were humbling. A few of them were the best decisions I ever made. Looking back, I’m grateful I had the sense to keep it handy — and the wisdom, at least sometimes, to know when to use it.

That’s what’s on the plaque. That’s why it’s still on the wall.

Hey, this is Russ and I’m still Living It Daily… See ya next time…

All views expressed are strictly the opinion of the writer

© April 20, 2026 – all rights reserved

Rusty Norman, LivingItDaily.com

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All music TwoBuckThemes from Mike Stewart unless otherwise stated