Better Late than Never Update How many times have we used that line to justify not getting something done on time? Sometimes it is a legitimate expression of our intentions and sincerity, but sometimes it's little more than a different way of saying, "I forgot" or "It wasn't important enough" or "It just wasn't the right timing" or some other issue.Sometimes it's even true. Take for example, paying your electric bill. As much as it benefits you and your cooperative when everyone pays their power bill on time, it is certainly true that paying it late is better than not paying it at all. But, that's also probably an example of one of the aforementioned excuses.
Another example of the saying being true is our recently concluded lawsuit against the Wabash Valley Power Association. After initially agreeing to a settlement last fall, we have finally worked through a myriad of delays, missed deadlines, acrimonious accusations and misdirections and the lawsuits were finally withdrawn during the first week of June. Even more to the point is the long-standing opinion of your Board of Directors that being out from under the restrictive fifty-year contract with Wabash Valley was the best thing for your REMC. The efforts to exit that Association were delayed primarily by Wabash Valley's bankruptcy over the failed Marble Hill nuclear power plant, but now it is done with the only remaining piece being the acquisition of a new power supplier by January first. That process is going well, but is clearly NOT one to which we could excuse ourselves with the "better late than never" cliche. We anticipate making an announcement in the next thirty to ninety days about that decision. Y2K is also something we do not want to be late on. We have completed our evaluations and identifications of potential problems and are quite confident that if the power gets to us, we will get it to you. There are actually a few side benefits of this Y2K thing. Because our old phone system is not compliant, we'll soon have a new one that will include the ability for you to leave us voice mail 24 hours a day, just to name one of several new features and capabilities which will help us serve you better. We also have to make major changes to our accounting system that will greatly improve our ability to compete and manage and spend the money you entrust to us more efficiently. In fact, with few exceptions, all the dollars we are spending on Y2K would need to have been spent in the next two to three years anyway to replace old systems. That doesn't keep this year from being a little pricey, but it is nice to get something besides a Y2K compliant gizmo for the money. And I've got one more, seemingly unrelated item that I should have taken care of a long time ago, but I guess it's... well, better late than never. This is late for two reasons: 1) I should have had it done for Father's day a few weeks ago, and 2) I should have had it done a long time before that. I can't seem to think of a slick or cutesy way to say it, so I'll just blurt it out: My Dad is my Hero. I've recently realized that all the things I've ever accomplished, or want to accomplish, I can connect to something my dad said, either in passing or in direct fathering (if there's a difference). The things I count as my biggest failures are curiously those same things that I know would, or did, disappoint Dad the most. (However, I really cannot remember him expressing much disappointment in me, except when I hit his car with another car when I was twelve and again with my own car when I was 18.) One of the hardest and most gratifying experiences of my life was when I tried to fulfill my late secretary's request that I speak at her funeral a few weeks ago. As I prepared, all I could think of was trying to picture how my minister-dad would do it. When the time came, guess who was sitting in the front row with my mom, both of them smiling words of encouragement and sharing tears of empathy. Dad has always been everybody's minister. When family member's die, he doesn't get to grieve because he's being leaned on by everyone else. He doesn't get to sit in the pew and cry because he's usually the one conducting the funeral; not because he's on some kind of ego trip, but just because he ministers as a way of life--not as an occupation. That was the case for my grandparents, my uncle, my twelve-year-old cousin who was killed last month on a motorcycle, many friends, and even my brother. There's a long-standing request in my will that if Dad survives me, I want him to do my funeral; I just don't trust anyone else as much. Dad is my hero, not because he's good with dead people, but because he constantly reminds the living among us that life is so much more than things and sadness. And he doesn't preach it, he walks it. We expect it of him because he never lets us down. We've put that huge burden on him and he wears it well, and I don't think we tell him enough. But that's my dad, that's my hero, and that's what I want to be when I grow up. I probably should have said that at the beginning of this column instead of here at the end. Oh well, better late than never.
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