The

Undeniable

Ruth

®

…and the Ruth shall set you free!

  • Memorial Tattoo for Rocky

    ·

    Ruth Carter

    Rocky Kees (December 20, 1949 - August 14, 2013)
    Rocky Kees (December 20, 1949 – August 14, 2013)

    As you know, my gymnastics coach and mentor of 24 years – Rocky – died earlier this year. Shortly after he passed away, I started thinking about whether I wanted to get a memorial tattoo in his honor. Surprisingly, I’m still leaning towards “no,” but I’m entertaining the thought process.

    I had a conversation with Rocky’s daughter and my teammates about some of the imagery that we associate with Rocky. This list we came up with definitely showed what a unique and special guy he was:

    • Leg warmers (that he would wear over his sweatpants)
    • Coffee in his left hand, cigarette in his right
    • Baby duck (his nickname for a lot of us)
    • Altoids (that he would eat 6 at a time)
    • Dancing – he was always dancing

    And there are the great lines he gave us:

    • “Get a helmet.”
    • “Turn the page.”
    • “It’s only hard.”
    • “Do what you know how to do.”

    The hard thing about picking a tattoo is it’s challenging to capture a feeling in an image. What I loved most about Rocky wasn’t the way he looked like or what he said, but how I felt when I was around him. He knew how to make everyone feel special. When you were talking with him, you knew that he genuinely cared about how the topic affected you. We talked for hours and I always felt that unconditional positive regard from him. How do I put that into a tattoo?

    I recently saw a video from best-selling sci-fi author Scott Sigler. He’s an incredible guy with a loyal fan base (called Junkies). These guys love his work so much they get tattoos of images from his book. (If you get a Sigler tattoo, he’ll write you into one of his books.) Two of his fans have had Scott sign their skin with a Sharpie and they immediately got it tattooed into their bodies. It’s pretty cool actually.

    Rocky SignatureThis got me thinking – I have Rocky’s signature. My gym did a big annual show and I had my coaches and teammates sign my program each year. I could, if I wanted a memorial tattoo, get his signature inked into my skin. He had such a profound influence on my life that it would be an appropriate way to honor him. Like an artist gets to sign their paintings, it wouldn’t be weird to say Rocky get to claim his impact on me, and so many other people.

    So where would I put it? Probably on the back of my left leg, just above my ankle. Rocky always had my back and usually stood just over my left shoulder so it would be sweet to put his name on my left side.

    I would probably add “1949-2013” beneath it so anyone who saw it would know it’s a memorial tattoo, not a love interest. We’ll see if I get the sign that I’m supposed to get this.

  • In Memoriam: Rocky Kees (1949-2013)

    ·

    Ruth Carter

    I want my friends in my life. Because someday we’re gonna wake up, and we’re gonna find that someone is missing from this circle. And on that day, we’re gonna mourn. And we shouldn’t have to mourn alone.

    -Chief Miles O’Brien from “The Sound of Her Voice,” Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

    That day I’ve been dreading has come – Rocky Kees – my gymnastics coach, mentor, and friend of 24 years passed away last week. He was an absolutely incredible person who brought out the best in everyone around him. Rocky made your feel special and respected in every situation (which is an incredible gift when you work with teenage girls). He was the kind of guy you could hang out with for hours and just listen to him tell stories.

    Rocky Kees (December 20, 1949 - August 14, 2013)
    Rocky Kees
    (December 20, 1949 – August 14, 2013)

    Rocky scared me when I first met him. He was tall with long thin limbs but his bicep bulged out like a softball when he flexed. He had sunken eyes and thick glasses that made him pretty foreboding to 10 year-old me. And he pushed us to our limits – in a lovingly way. I never trained harder than when I was with Rocky. At first I hated it but I came to love it. He brought out the best in us and there was an incredible sense of security when it came to working with him. If he said you could do something, you knew you could do it. He had a wonderful calming effect on me.

    For years, if you were looking for me, the best course of action was to scan the room for him, go over about two feet and look down. That’s where you’d usually find me. At the end of practice every night, Rocky was usually outside chatting with parents with his coffee in his left hand and a cigarette in his right. I liked to pad outside, velcro myself to his left side (so he wouldn’t ash on me), and wrap my arms around his middle. He would look down to make sure it was me but keep talking without breaking his cadence. When there was a natural break in the conversation he’d look down and say something like “How’s it going Baby Duck?”

    He called lots of us “Baby Duck” (apparently it’s a movie reference) but it was fitting for me. I followed him around constantly, happy to share his company and glean whatever gems I could from him. Rocky shared so many lessons that applied to life as much as to gymnastics. Here are some of the ones that have been going through my mind for the last few days.

    • Life’s tough. Get a helmet.
    • Dump the cement bag and climb the ladder. (Translation: don’t make things harder than they need to be.)
    • Do what you know how to do.

    There are so many Rocky lessons I use in my everyday life. They’ve gotten me through law school, training for half marathons, and challenges in my professional and personal life. In so many ways he’s become the voice in my head, always guiding me in the right direction. Even when he wasn’t physically with me, he was still there.

    Since his passing, it’s been wonderful to connect with my gymnastics coaches and teammates to share pictures and memories. The world lost an amazing person and we were the lucky ones who got to know him.

  • Get A Helmet

    ·

    Ruth Carter

    I was a gymnast from age 4 to 23. I was a competitive gymnast for 8 of those years. Gymnastics was more than a sport for me – it was a lifestyle. Not doing it was never an option. When I struggled with injuries, I just had to find a way to work through or around the pain.

    Rocky & His Girls, 1993

    I had an amazing coach during my competitive career named Rocky Kees. He brought out the best in me and all my teammates. That man was gymnastics magic. I absolutely loved training with him.  It was one of the best times of my life. And Rocky taught me more than gymnastics. He taught me life skills that I carry with me to this day.

    One of Rocky’s mantras was, “Get a helmet.” It was his way of saying, “Suck it up” but it had an added element of respect for how hard our work was. He respected that gymnastics was hard or scary, but he wouldn’t tell us to do anything that we couldn’t do. We all heard, “Get a helmet” on a regular basis. To this day, I can post “It’s a Get A Helmet kind of day” on Facebook and I’ll get lots of acknowledgements from my former teammates.

    Post-It Above My Desk

    “Get a Helmet” has become my mantra for building my law firm. I have it written on a little post-it note above my desk. Every day comes with its own set of challenges, whether it’s managing my calendar, balancing the books, doing client work, writing my book, or marketing the hell out of myself and my firm. There are a lot of things I’d rather not do, but that’s not really an option when you run a one-person shop.  Sometimes I get tired, frustrated, and unmotivated. That’s when I look up at that post-it note, take a deep breath, and soldier on.

    Remembering to “Get a Helmet” keeps my eye on the prize. I’m not asking myself to do anything impossible. It’s just hard and scary. I can handle that.