Inspirations from a Janitor and A paralyzed college grad.

The first comes from a friends email and it reads:

> LESSONS IN LEADERSHIP: From a Janitor
> Wharton Leadership Digest, December 2001
> By Colonel James E. Moschgat, Commander of the 12th
> Operations Group, 12th Flying Training Wing, Randolph
> Air Force Base, Texas
> William “Bill” Crawford certainly was an unimpressive figure,
> one you could easily overlook during a hectic day at the
> U.S. Air Force Academy. Mr. Crawford, as most of us
> referred to him back in the late 1970s, was our squadron
> janitor.
> While we cadets busied ourselves preparing for academic
> exams, athletic events, Saturday morning parades and room inspections, or
> never-ending leadership classes, Bill quietly moved about the squadron
> mopping
> and buffing floors, emptying trash cans, cleaning toilets, or just tidying
> up the
> mess 100 college-age kids can leave in a dormitory. Sadly, and for many
> years,
> few of us gave him much notice, rendering little more than a passing nod or
> throwing a curt, “G’morning!” in his direction as we hurried off to our
> daily duties.
> Why? Perhaps it was because of the way he did his job-he always kept the
> squadron area spotlessly clean, even the toilets and showers gleamed.
> Frankly,
> he did his job so well, none of us had to notice or get involved. After
> all, cleaning
> toilets was his job, not ours. Maybe it was is physical appearance that
> made him
> disappear into the background. Bill didn’t move very quickly and, in fact,
> you
> could say he even shuffled a bit, as if he suffered from some sort of
> injury. His
> gray hair and wrinkled face made him appear ancient to a group of young
> cadets.
> And his crooked smile, well, it looked a little funny. Face it, Bill was
> an old man
> working in a young person’s world. What did he have to offer us on a
> personal
> level?
> Finally, maybe it was Mr. Crawford’s personality that rendered him almost
> invisible to the young people around him. Bill was shy, almost painfully
> so. He
> seldom spoke to a cadet unless they addressed him first, and that didn’t
> happen
> very often. Our janitor always buried himself in his work, moving about
> with
> stooped shoulders, a quiet gait, and an averted gaze. If he noticed the
> hustle
> and bustle of cadet life around him, it was hard to tell. So, for whatever
> reason,
> Bill blended into the woodwork and became just another fixture around the
> squadron. The Academy, one of our nation’s premier leadership laboratories,
> kept us busy from dawn till dusk. And Mr. Crawford...well, he was just a
> janitor.
> That changed one fall Saturday afternoon in 1976. I was reading a book
> about
> World War II and the tough Allied ground campaign in Italy, when I stumbled
> across an incredible story. On September 13, 1943, a Private William
> Crawford
> from Colorado, assigned to the 36th Infantry Division, had been involved
> in some
> bloody fighting on Hill 424 near Altavilla, Italy. The words on the page
> leapt out at
> me: “in the face of intense and overwhelming hostile fire ... with no
> regard for
> personal safety ... on his own initiative, Private Crawford single-handedly
> attacked fortified enemy positions.” It continued, “for conspicuous
> gallantry and
> intrepidity at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, the
> President of the
> United States ...”
> “Holy cow,” I said to my roommate, “you’re not going to believe this,
> but I think
> our janitor is a Medal of Honor winner.” We all knew Mr. Crawford was a
> WWII
> Army vet, but that didn’t keep my friend from looking at me as if I was
> some sort
> of alien being. Nonetheless, we couldn’t wait to ask Bill about the story
> on
> Monday. We met Mr. Crawford bright and early Monday and showed him the
> page in question from the book, anticipation and doubt in our faces. He
> starred
> at it for a few silent moments and then quietly uttered something like, “
> Yep, that’s
> me.”
> Mouths agape, my roommate and I looked at one another,
> then at the book, and quickly back at our janitor. Almost at
> once we both stuttered, “Why didn’t you ever tell us about it?”
> He slowly replied after some thought, “That was one day in
> my life and it happened a long time ago.”
> I guess we were all at a loss for words after that. We had to
> hurry off to class and Bill, well, he had chores to attend to.
> However, after that brief exchange, things were never again
> the same around our squadron. Word spread like wildfire
> among the cadets that we had a hero in our midst-Mr. Crawford, our
> janitor, had
> won the Medal! Cadets who had once passed by Bill with hardly a glance, now
> greeted him with a smile and a respectful, “Good morning, Mr. Crawford.”
> Those who had before left a mess for the “janitor” to clean up started
> taking it
> upon themselves to put things in order. Most cadets routinely stopped to
> talk to
> Bill throughout the day and we even began inviting him to our formal
> squadron
> functions. He’d show up dressed in a conservative dark suit and quietly
> talk to
> those who approached him, the only sign of his heroics being a simple
> blue, starspangled
> lapel pin.
> Almost overnight, Bill went from being a simple fixture in our squadron to
> one of
> our teammates. Mr. Crawford changed too, but you had to look closely to
> notice
> the difference. After that fall day in 1976, he seemed to move with more
> purpose, his shoulders didn’t seem to be as stooped, he met our greetings
> with a
> direct gaze and a stronger “good morning” in return, and he flashed his
> crooked
> smile more often. The squadron gleamed as always, but everyone now seemed
> to notice it more. Bill even got to know most of us by our first names,
> something
> that didn’t happen often at the Academy. While no one ever formally
> acknowledged the change, I think we became Bill’s cadets and his squadron.
> As often happens in life, events sweep us away from those in
> our past. The last time I saw Bill was on graduation day in
> June 1977. As I walked out of the squadron for the last time,
> he shook my hand and simply said, “Good luck, young man.”
> With that, I embarked on a career that has been truly lucky
> and blessed. Mr. Crawford continued to work at the
> Academy and eventually retired in his native Colorado where
> he resides today, one of four Medal of Honor winners living in
> a small town.
> A wise person once said, “It’s not life that’s important, but
> those you meet along the way that make the difference.” Bill was one who
> made
> a difference for me. While I haven’t seen Mr. Crawford in over twenty
> years,
> he’d probably be surprised to know I think of him often. Bill Crawford,
> our janitor,
> taught me many valuable, unforgettable leadership lessons. Here are ten I’
> d like
> to share with you.
> 1. Be Cautious of Labels. Labels you place on people may define your
> relationship to them and bound their potential. Sadly, and for a long
> time, we
> labeled Bill as just a janitor, but he was so much more. Therefore, be
> cautious of
> a leader who callously says, “Hey, he’s just an Airman.” Likewise, don’t
> tolerate
> the O-1, who says, “I can’t do that, I’m just a lieutenant.”
> 2. Everyone Deserves Respect. Because we hung the “janitor” label on Mr.
> Crawford, we often wrongly treated him with less respect than others
> around us.
> He deserved much more, and not just because he was a Medal of Honor winner.
> Bill deserved respect because he was a janitor, walked among us, and was a
> part of our team.
> 3. Courtesy Makes a Difference. Be courteous to all around you, regardless
> of
> rank or position. Military customs, as well as common courtesies, help
> bond a
> team. When our daily words to Mr. Crawford turned from perfunctory “hellos”
> to
> heartfelt greetings, his demeanor and personality outwardly changed. It
> made a
> difference for all of us.
> 4. Take Time to Know Your People. Life in the military is hectic, but that’
> s no
> excuse for not knowing the people you work for and with. For years a hero
> walked among us at the Academy and we never knew it. Who are the heroes
> that walk in your midst?
> 5. Anyone Can Be a Hero. Mr. Crawford certainly didn’t fit anyone’s
> standard
> definition of a hero. Moreover, he was just a private on the day he won his
> Medal. Don’t sell your people short, for any one of them may be the hero
> who
> rises to the occasion when duty calls. On the other hand, it’s easy to
> turn to your
> proven performers when the chips are down, but don’t ignore the rest of the
> team. Today’s rookie could and should be tomorrow’s superstar.
> 6. Leaders Should Be Humble. Most modern day heroes and some leaders are
> anything but humble, especially if you calibrate your “hero meter” on
> today’s
> athletic fields. End zone celebrations and self-aggrandizement are what we’
> ve
> come to expect from sports greats. Not Mr. Crawford-he was too busy
> working to
> celebrate his past heroics. Leaders would be well-served to do the same.
> 7. Life Won’t Always Hand You What You Think You Deserve. We in the
> military
> work hard and, dang it, we deserve recognition, right? However, sometimes
> you
> just have to persevere, even when accolades don’t come your way. Perhaps
> you
> weren’t nominated for junior officer or airman of the quarter as you
> thought you
> should - don’t let that stop you.
> 8. Don’t pursue glory; pursue excellence. Private Bill Crawford didn’t
> pursue
> glory; he did his duty and then swept floors for a living. No job is
> beneath a
> Leader. If Bill Crawford, a Medal of Honor winner, could clean latrines
> and smile,
> is there a job beneath your dignity? Think about it.
> 9. Pursue Excellence. No matter what task life hands you, do it well. Dr.
> Martin
> Luther King said, “If life makes you a street sweeper, be the best street
> sweeper
> you can be.” Mr. Crawford modeled that philosophy and helped make our
> dormitory area a home.
> 10. Life is a Leadership Laboratory. All too often we look to some school
> or PME
> class to teach us about leadership when, in fact, life is a leadership labo
> ratory.
> Those you meet everyday will teach you enduring lessons if you just take
> time to
> stop, look and listen. I spent four years at the Air Force Academy, took
> dozens
> of classes, read hundreds of books, and met thousands of great people. I
> gleaned leadership skills from all of them, but one of the people I
> remember most
> is Mr. Bill Crawford and the lessons he unknowingly taught. Don’t miss your
> opportunity to learn.
> Bill Crawford was a janitor. However, he was also a teacher, friend, role
> model
> and one great American hero. Thanks, Mr. Crawford, for some valuable
> leadership lessons.
> Dale Pyeatt, Executive Director of the National Guard Association of
> Texas,
> comments: And now, for the “rest of the story”: Pvt William John Crawford
> was
> a platoon scout for 3rd Platoon of Company L 1 42nd Regiment 36th Division
> (Texas National Guard) and won the Medal Of Honor for his actions on Hill
> 424,
> just 4 days after the invasion at Salerno.
> On Hill 424, Pvt Crawford took out 3 enemy machine guns before darkness
> fell,
> halting the platoon’s advance. Pvt Crawford could not be found and was
> assumed dead. The request for his MOH was quickly approved. Major General
> Terry Allen presented the posthumous MOH to Bill Crawford’s father,
> George, on
> 11 May 1944 in Camp (now Fort) Carson, near Pueblo. Nearly two months after
> that, it was learned that Pvt Crawford was alive in a POW camp in Germany.
> During his captivity, a German guard clubbed him with his rifle. Bill
> overpowered
> him, took the rifle away, and beat the guard unconscious. A German doctor’
> s
> testimony saved him from severe punishment, perhaps death. To stay ahead of
> the advancing Russian army, the prisoners were marched 500 miles in 52 days
> in the middle of the German winter, subsisting on one potato a day. An
> allied
> tank column liberated the camp in the spring of 1945, and Pvt Crawford
> took his
> first hot shower in 18 months on VE Day. Pvt Crawford stayed in the army
> before
> retiring as a MSG and becoming a janitor. In 1984, President Ronald Reagan
> officially presented the MOH to Bill Crawford.
> William Crawford passed away in 2000. He is the only U.S. Army veteran and
> sole Medal of Honor winner to be buried in the cemetery of the U.S. Air
> Force
> Academy.
> Note: Co. James Moschgat can be contacted at
> [email protected]_ (mailto:[email protected]) .
> A profile of William Crawford is available at
> _http://www.homeofheroes.com/profiles/profiles_crawford.html_
> (http://www.homeofheroes.com/profiles/profiles_crawford.html) , and his Medal of
> Honor citation can be found at _www.army.mil/cmh-pg/mohiia1.htm_
> (http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/mohiia1.htm) .
>

And the second from a College grad:

http://www.comcast.net/articles/sports-general/20100509/Buffalo-Spinal.Cord.Injury/

That's when Bishop was reminded not everyone has endured a life-threatening trauma that's turned into a life-altering experience over the past two months. The senior went from being paralyzed from the neck down, after sustaining a severe spinal cord injury during a wrestling meet, to being able to walk on his own.

Have a great day!