Last Friday, Roger Goodell, the commissioner of the National Football League, called a press conference to talk about the handling of the Ray Rice domestic violence incident. He walked up to the microphone, looked out at the large gathering of reporters, and said, “I got it wrong.”

I thought about his comment for a long time, not because he was talking about domestic violence – which is abhorrent in any form – but because of Goodell’s act of admitting publicly that he made a mistake. How many of us want to admit – to anyone – that we have been wrong?

I remembered a time about 10 years ago when I was a new advisor, and I made a mistake with a student’s schedule. I changed it without her knowledge and when she came to me, I brushed aside her concern and moved on. Later I received a call from a colleague on campus explaining to me that I shouldn’t have done that and why. That person also told my boss what happened. As bosses do, he picked up the phone and called me immediately.

“I heard what happened! Did you actually do that???”

“Yep,” I responded. “I blew it.”

“What?” he said, sounding shocked.

“I said, I blew it. I made a mistake.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect that,” he replied with a little chuckle. “I expected you to try to cover it up or make excuses.”

“No,” I said. “I learned from a boss of mine a long time ago that people screw up. When they do, they need to own it. Then they need to figure out how to fix it, if possible, or at least move forward in a positive way. So this morning, I called the student, apologized, and let her know I would not do it again.” My boss complimented me for the way I handled the resolution of the problem and hung up.

It’s true that I didn’t have to talk about my mistake in front of hundreds of people in a ballroom on national TV but I did have to admit that it had happened. It wasn’t comfortable, or easy. But saying that I got it wrong was the way to make it right.

I had my birthday yesterday, and I spent it mostly by myself.

I loved it.

See, in the language of the Myers Briggs, I am an introvert. I am certainly not what you first think of as an “introvert” – I don’t think anyone who knows me would call me shy or reserved – but I am definitely someone who gains energy from “alone time.” I love to have opportunities for reflection and introspection. I enjoy spending time reading, writing, and thinking. As I call it, I live “in my head” a lot.

When I spend time alone, I am not lonely. I am especially energized by hours spent on my own after any week when I have been in a lot of meetings with a lot of other people. I do enjoy being with others, but I have come to understand that I prefer to be with just one or two other people at a time. (My dinner on Friday evening with just my friend Lauren was great!) Rather than calling hundreds of people “friends,” I prefer to have a few friendships that are deep. I can look back on my life and see that my relationships have always been this way: I want to really understand the other person. My former roommates, office mates, and bosses can probably attest to this characteristic.

So after having a day when I did the laundry, read Back Channel by Stephen L. Carter, and watched a lot of college football, I can say my birthday was fabulous. Now you know why.

One of my favorite poems is The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. My favorite part is the last:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Not long ago I walked one of the trails near the NC Museum of Art. I have loved this trail for years. When I need to clear my head, I go out and walk 3 or 4 miles. On that particular Sunday, for some reason, I was very aware of the traffic sounds on nearby I-40. I kept thinking about the drivers: how many of them had no idea that just a few yards away was this serene world, a path with singing birds, gentle breezes, and whimsical art? They could easily reach all of it if they only took the Blue Ridge Road exit, turned right, and went down to the Museum entrance.

Is there a path you have passed by without noticing? One with a different world that might calm and refresh you? The next time you are driving, take time to look around. See if there is something you have driven by a hundred times without paying any attention. You might find something wonderful.

I have a new car: a 2014 Chevrolet Sonic sedan, the first new car I’ve had since the 80’s. My last car was 14 years old so having this new one is an amazing experience.

I have determined there are five ways that having a new car is like being a freshman in college:

1. You know how to drive (learn) but the tools you’re using are different – some are much more powerful.
2. If you don’t ask for help, you won’t learn all the wonderful features your car (university) has.
3. Some of the things you’ve been used to finding in one place for a long time are now in a different place (and look different).
4. You have to think about your money differently and make sure you stick to your budget so you can afford it.
5. You love it and you don’t want the euphoria to wear off…..but eventually it will.

I know there are more – share them with me! djburton@ncsu.edu

I have kept journals off and on since the fifth grade. Those early journals were full of angst about cute boys in my class who didn’t notice me and trips I took with my family. I kept a journal the year I was sick with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome…and I wrote at length after 9/11. My journals have always been friends with whom I could share my innermost thoughts.

There is one journal I don’t have. It’s the one I kept in March and April of 1983 during the Wolfpack’s incredible run to the NCAA championship. I started keeping the journal because I wanted to document what it was like to be an NC State fan going through the experience. After State won, I read back over the 19 pages, and I could see my journal did what I’d hoped. It described what had been going on in North Carolina during the four weeks of the ACC and NCAA tournaments…..the unbridled joy, the huge bonfires on the Brickyard, and the deafening roar of 25,000 people screaming in delight after Lorenzo Charles’ game-winning dunk.

I don’t have the journal, because I sent it to Jim Valvano.

I didn’t think about it again until I came home from work one day in 1983 and found a package propped against my front door. The return address was Case Athletic Center at NC State. In the package was a red hardback book titled NC State 1983 National Championship. I couldn’t believe it. Who had sent me this wonderful book?

It turned out to be Coach V. “I can’t possibly write a 19-page letter but I can share this with you so you can relive the road to Albuquerque many times. Thank you for writing and expressing yourself so eloquently. My best, Jim V.” I stood there with tears in my eyes. He really read it! And it meant enough to him that he sent me a gift.

Jim Valvano died on April 28, 1993. I still miss his infectious laugh, hilarious stories, and spirited will to win. But I do have the book, and I will treasure it forever. It was worth giving up that journal.