I could hear the sound of someone leaving a message on the answering machine in the next room. I couldn’t even understand the words she was saying but I could hear her tone. It was the tone of someone who was detached from the meaning of the very words she was saying. “Good afternoon. I’m calling on behalf of…”

There is a tone in someone’s voice when they don’t care about what they are saying. It’s the tone I hear from the flight attendants when they are instructing perfectly capable grown ups as to how to fasten their seat belts or that wearing face masks is mandatory. Even between bites and sips. Look around. No one is paying attention.

To fasten your seat belt, insert the metal fittings one into the other, and tighten by pulling on the loose end of the strap.

It’s a curious thing. A few understand it, but most do not.

And before I point any finger let me just confess that I didn’t understand it either coming from a background in mainstream radio. I didn’t really understand what our format is all about.

Like many today I thought the format was about the music we play, the deejays, and doing radio stuff. After all, that’s radio, right? I had to undergo a process of learning that our format is about something much more important.

We can all remember the first time someone said, “I love you.” (We can also painfully remember when someone didn’t respond that way).

We are created to be known. From the early playground experiences of “Mommy, mommy, look at me,” to the moment you discovered the pretty girl knew your name.

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything.”

Timothy Keller

On last week’s show I shared how a job transition 30 years ago became a learning experience that has impacted my perspective and attitude even decades later.

Some context. My experience at that time included two decades on the air, the latter half at some big stations in big markets, and more recently as the programmer of a top 5 station in a top 5 market. Due to a station sale, I found myself in a role with the new company that was neither specifically on air nor programming. I was glad to have a gig but, if honest, didn’t initially realize the value it would have in my career.

I had a choice. I could either view my skill set in the rear view mirror or I could embrace a spirit of learning; a new format, a new role, and the vision for a new kind of radio station. The choice was made easy for me because of the people and the project. I was surrounded by major market pros and we were learning a brand new format, and we were learning it together.

30 years ago this week I was involved one of the most transformative transitions of my broadcasting career. And the amazing thing is that I didn’t seek it out nor did I initially realize the value it would have in my career. But I was wrong.

Choosing to be a lifelong learner is a great gift to yourself.

I occasionally run across people without a learning spirit. They do what they do and that’s all they want to do. I once worked with a morning man on a CCM station that simply repeated the bits he did on his previous Oldies station.

Whether routed in laziness or fear of the unknown it keeps people stuck, both in skill level and perspective. I think this is particularly challenging for someone who’s been at one radio station for a long time. While longevity certainly has its benefits, I can only imagine what my limited perspective on programming would be if I had spent several decades at my first station, a 500-watt AM station in my hometown in west Texas.

My greatest value to stations is that I’ve just spent time with some of the smartest broadcasters in our format. I see their challenges. I’ve been a part of those conversations. I’ve seen the solutions they come up with and understand the outside perspective.

Every time I’m around smart people they make me better.

(Seven years ago this week I attended the funeral of Lowell “Bud” Paxson, a man I can honestly say changed my life and the lives of dozens of others who were privileged to work for him. For those of you who have just tuned in I think it’s appropriate for me to share this Frost Advisory again.)

A couple of weeks ago I shared observations on leadership from the book, “Breakfast with Fred,” the conversations and ideas of Fred Smith, Sr, a mentor for many leaders such as Zig Ziglar, Philip Yancey, John Maxwell, and my friend Steve Brown.

Little did I realize that within a couple of weeks I would be attending the funeral of the greatest leader I have ever personally known, Bud Paxson.

If your station had a Christmas music strategy and it was effective, it has more listeners today than it did two months ago. For a format that plays mostly unfamiliar music from a new listener’s perspective, that is a HUGE opportunity. After all…

Everyone’s favorite station is the station that plays their favorite music.

Don’t blow it.

I’ve noticed that when Andy Stanley shares a message he purposely speaks his content directly to insiders AND outsiders. “If you’re not a Christian or church person…” leads into a camera angle specifically designed to effectively communicate to a specific group. Then he’ll direct a similar message to those, like most of us, that have been going to church since before we were born.

“Blessing” is not a word we kick around often in strategic planning meetings, and certainly not in budget meetings. But I reckon’ it’s a pretty good word.

One of the definitions for “blessing” is “something that helps you or brings happiness.” (Merriam-Webster dictionary)

My friend Brant Hansen shares, “Literally blessing means to add value. How can I bless the listener today?”

He digs into the process, or more accurately the WORK.

The beginning of a new year seems to me to be a good time to consider how we internalize the values in our organizations.

Andy Stanley suggests, “Just start celebrating what you value. People will value what you celebrate, and they will celebrate what you value.”

I’ve recently been reading, “Breakfast with Fred,” the conversations and ideas of Fred Smith, Sr, a mentor for many leaders such as Zig Ziglar, Philip Yancey, John Maxwell and my friend Steve Brown.

“When Fred was in his early twenties, he visited a cemetery and asked himself what he would want the epitaph on his tombstone to read. It was at that moment he chose the phrase that would set his life direction: ‘He stretched others.'”

Have you ever met anyone that has their own statue? Interesting thought, isn’t it?

I’ve had the privilege of meeting several. I met Ronald Reagan when he was running for president in the ’70s. In my baseball life I’ve met Stan Musial, Jack Buck, Mike Schmidt, Lou Brock, and Ozzie Smith.

What makes someone so special that they are worthy of a statue?

Is it talent? Or personality? Maybe just right place at the right time?