31 December 1980 – 11:50 p.m. – Luttrell Ave., Knoxville, Tenn.

At the time, Leland lived on Luttrell Avenue in North Knoxville, Tennessee, in a renovated shot-gun style house of the 1920s. He was single; some days, he enjoyed his new life, but other days, he dreaded getting out of bed.

Like many divorced men in their thirties, Leland was starting over—a new job in a town where he knew no one his age—ten years of married life behind him. He was scared yet exhilarated. Free, free, free at last. It took on a special meaning to him. He felt responsible for only himself.

He was catching up on all he missed in the seventies when the world was doing the disco thing and wearing clothes that, in retrospect, were gaudy at best. He bought a suit or two of the current fashion but detested wearing them. 

On weekdays, he wore a “grits” outfit, a blue blazer, a light blue button-down shirt, a “school” tie, and khakis with black wingtips. The “grits” dress became popular during the Carter administration and was introduced by Jody Powell, Carter’s press secretary. He had worked with Powell once—a nice enough fellow.

However, Leland was most comfortable wearing faded jeans, his old brown college broken-in Acme cowboy boots, golf shirts, and thigh-length mill boot socks. His belt was duty-worn with a buckle commemorating his tour at Land Between. He wore aviator glasses.

Having survived the malaise of the Carter administration, he looked forward to President Reagan’s vision of a “shining city on the hill” and again felt pride in his country. The 80s decade would be interesting.

Leland was a product of the rural South, living in a city now —a “between the tracks” kid who had seen himself and even now as beneath others.

It wasn’t that Leland didn’t already have the credentials of a successful man. He graduated from university in 40 months. He served seven years in federal service with exemplary reviews—the most recent tour as the youngest Chief to a Colonel in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

At 30, he held a master’s and specialist degree in communications and psychology, focusing on behavioral science. He had completed a contract with an intel agency, which freed him to get on with his life.

Although he understood the importance of these accomplishments at such a young age, in his mind, he was still that kid who never quite fit. The kid who could see things in other people and ask himself always, “Why” would someone do what they did? How did they make decisions that often impacted many lives? Why would people not collaborate instead of compete? How did you know when to “squeeze the trigger”?

He constantly sought to understand the behavior of others and his own. His curiosity eventually led him to apply behavioral psychology to a concept of collaboration and a model of communication.

On this late evening, he sat in an old-fashioned wooden swing on his front porch, one he had bought at Uncle Lee’s for 20 bucks, and sipped a pedestrian scotch. He thought about life—all his 30 years. He wondered what the next 30 would look like.

He had many acquaintances but only a few friends. Friends to Leland were those with whom he trusted his “six.” Friends would be there when no one else was. He counted them on one hand. Years later, he realized that even some friends on that list were transitory. Yet, life went on.

Trust no one to pack your parachute, assume nothing, and triple-check everything. Leland’s Laws had saved him more than once. Years later, he was introduced to Jethro Gibb’s Rules. Jethro had more rules than he could remember. Leland kept his “rules” simple and short.

But somewhere along the line, Leland recalled it being said, “Don’t pass the key to your happiness to someone else; keep it in your pocket.” The thought came to him as he sat there—crisp night air. The street is dark.

He would recall that wisdom over the years, especially when he sat on swings sipping a beverage. Strange, Leland thought about how life circles. He pondered, maybe it isn’t where I’m from but where I am going.

And with that, he heard the first fireworks and the church bells, and the new year began.