On Sunday, we’re taking a little retreat from real life.  We’re headed to a camp near Sisters, Oregon to play, rest, and recreate our personal best.

We’ll be on a phone and Internets blackout.  No web, no mobile, no Twitter (gasp), and no blogging.

Well, I always have to write - maybe I’ll take some analog writing tools.  This will be good, I hope promise!

It’s been said that wherever you place the most focus, that is your primary object of desire.  Time, energy, thoughts, dreams, hopes, visions, values - whatever?  If you are devoting more time to one thing than another, that is your most prized possession or desire.  It can be a thing, a person, an activity, or a pursuit - it doesn’t really matter.

At one time in my life, when I was young, it was this cute girl in my class at Rockwood Junior High School.  Julie Dreiling.  Whenever she was in my vicinity, I was clueless to anything else around me.  Later in life, it was firefighting.  From15 to 19 years old, I was enamored with everything about firefighting.  It consumed so much of my time that after two years I dropped out of college and began to pursue a full-time professional emergency services career.

No one has ever accused me of being balanced.  In fact, tonight when I was talking with friends about my goal to achieve a balance between work and life, one asked me, “Do you really think that is possible?”  My retort was so positive and forceful, that when I finished, she could only answer, “I wish my husband would take lessons from you.”

Since the industrial age people have gotten busier and busier

Ever since the beginning of the industrial age, men (in particular) and people (in general) have gotten busier and busier.  Where we used to work together, in a naturally occuring community, we now work alone (at least emotionally), trapped by the pressures of our employers.  Well, at least we think we’re trapped, but are we?

I had an interesting insight last Saturday night

For the past several months we’ve been listening to Laura Ingalls’ Little House on the Prairie, books on tape and CD.  Since I’ve never read the books, I’ve been having fun listening whenever I’m in the care with my family.  I had an interesting insight last Saturday night as we drove home though.

Mr. Ingalls had hired a threshing machine to come in and help harvest the oats.  All day long they worked very hard to keep up with this massive machine drawn by 12 horses.  It was all they could do to keep up with this loud, noisy, rattling piece of machinery.  When they broke for lunch, the 12 men consumed mass quantities of food and then went back to working hard.

At the end of the day, Mr. Ingalls comes into the house exhausted.  He exclaims to no one in particular, “That was a lot of work, but it saved me two weeks in the fields.”

Instantly it hit me:  I am willing to bet that he didn’t take a two week vacation!  Nope, that’s the problem with our so-called labor-saving devices.  They do save us a lot of work, but we don’t take that time to ourselves.  Instead we pour the time saved right back into the next task at hand.

I am willing to bet that he didn’t take a two week vacation!

And so the industrial revolution began with promises of more leisure, and a life supplied by machines and computers.  However, this has never come to fruition.  This insight made me sad.  It made me long for the family and community that I’ve never experienced.

Sure, there was great hardship and poverty back then.  And of course, because of our productivity, we have nice cars, nice houses, and nice clothes - not to mention an abundance and variety of foods.  But at what price?

It has been said that wherever you spend the most time, energy, and focus, that is your treasure.

I’ve never been accused of being balanced.  I spent my 20s in a chemically altered state of consciousness.  I spent my early 30s devoted to my rapidly rising, and rewarding, career.  I spent my late 30s and early 40s in school.

Many men will tell you that they spend so much time at work because they love their family.  But if you were to ask their family, they would prefer that daddy be home more - and emotionally available.  The truth is, men get rewards from their work.  They don’t have to be emotionally available, but they are praised for their ideas, successes, and accomplishments.  The harder they work, the more they are affirmed.

The rewards are fewer and less noticeable in parenting.  Sometimes the payoffs don’t come for decades.  Sometimes, being emotionally available to one’s family is draining.  Families aren’t like toasters, we can’t take them apart, replace a few parts, and put them back together again.  The dysfunctions and baggage are outside of our control.

We feel helpless and yet we want to fix it

We feel helpless and yet we want to fix it.  That’s what dads do, we fix things.  But how do you fix a toddler who was born with a propensity to have uncontrollable and unreasonable tantrums?  How do you fix a wife who has unreasonable expectations and needs your tenderness (which you don’t know how to give)?

It is much easier to devote your energy and aspirations to your work and career.  Life, and family, are not always easy.  But in the long run, you’ll be better off if you make family your number one opportunity for success.

I’m convinced that my legacy will be exponentially greater by puring my heart and soul into my family

That’s my theory anyway.  I’ve not seen it work, but I’m not going to miss the opportunity to allow my kids to rise above the dysfunctions that were handed down to me.  I’ve made my mark on the world, but I’m convinced that my legacy will be exponentially greater by pouring my heart and soul into my family.

I want to build a solid enough foundation that my kids can stand on my shoulders and achieve all the successes available to them.  The best way to do that is to pur my heart and soul into their mother - and show them what real love is all about.  The second best tool I have for them is to be emotionally available, balanced, and healthy.

That’s my plan, and I’m sticking to it!

What is your plan?

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been feeling quite stressed.  I had papers to write and books to read for a class I took last April.  Every time I’d sit down to work on this stuff, something more urgent would pop up.  First there were some deaths, some destruction, and a couple of natural disasters - or so one would think.

When I finally made the choice to put my family before my tasks, a sense of freedom and serenity began to creep over me.  Without much thought, I decided to take Tuesday off and spend it with the family.  We went to Sauvies Island and picked peaches.  50 pounds of peaches to be exact!  It was a great afternoon!

Then today, I planned to attend Lunch 2.0 in Portland.  I asked my family if they wanted to go with me and they did - so I got to spend another couple of hours with my awesome wife and great kids!  It was a good day!

Note: This was the first Lunch 2.0 event I’ve attended.  I actually put it on my calendar and scheduled around it, but with the excitement of the schizzow.com launch on Monday, and the fact that Silicon Florist was hosting this lunch in celebration of their first anniversary (way to go @turoczy), it was a good day to show up!  I got to meet some great people that I know through Twitter, and some others.

Portland is an amazingly creative, down-to-earth place to live.  In the last 15 years I’ve lived near LA, Chicago, and Denver.  All of them great cities in their own right.  Seattle and San Francisco are also great cities, and they come the closest to having the feel that Portland has.  However, nothing that I’ve found compares to what I’ve found here!

All my life I’ve heard my parents say, save your money, you’re going to college.  There was never really a plan, just a hope.  Every quarter, dime, and penny went into my little pink ceramic piggy bank.  Of course, I robbed that piggy bank as often as I stuffed it.  Hence, when I started college I had no savings.  For the most part, I paid cash all the way through undergrad.  It took me twenty years to complete that degree!

I started working on my graduate program about 10 years ago.  I’ve always figured that if I finish it within 20 years, I’m doing great!  However, at the rate I’ve been going, 20 years might be optimistic.

I know that a lot of people complete degrees, raise families, work full-time, and build their careers, but I’m not sure I’m motivated to do that.  I took a class last April and just doing the class work was hard on my family and I.  Now the course work is due and other squeaky wheels have been getting my grease.  So, suddenly, I’m faced with a deadline to read two very academic and esoteric books, and write several papers.

I’ve spent the last couple of days focused on nothing but reading and writing.  I passed up and opportunity to spend an afternoon with my Dad, who is visiting us from Colorado.  Several times, I’ve had to shoo my kids out of my office, or sneak away from family meals and such.  Yesterday I missed a big work session with a bunch of volunteers and today I’ve been fighting a headache and sleep deprivation.

Tonight I had an important board meeting where I needed to present, plead, and process.  Just before leaving the house, I told my wife that this busyness is craziness.  Everyone we know is always busy.  What happened to the days when families sat on the front porch and drank lemonade together?

I’ve decided that I don’t need to finish this degree

I’ve decided that I don’t need to finish this degree.  This is not an easy decision for me.  I’m a finisher.  I’m a man of responsibility.  I’m one who does what he says he’s going to do.  But, I don’t need the degree to further my career.  And I don’t need it to increase my pay.

As this thought began to sink in, I realized that I don’t need to complete this course either.  I’ve learned much, and the professor is great - I hate to let him down actually.  But I have about 2 more sleepless nights before I can call it quits, and I’m not sure it’s worth it.

Like I’ve said before, my family is more important

My Darling Daughter is starting to show signs of naughtiness, motivated by her need for more attention.  In addition, my Dad is in town and I haven’t seen him since last Christmas.

So, tonight, after a very challenging board meeting, I sent my professor and email asking what is the minimum I would need to finish to get a passing grade, and when is the absolute deadline.  I’m hoping he’ll have pity and let me slide.  If not, I’ll just take an indefinite incomplete.

Like I’ve said before, my family is more important.

It’s not enough to just have good boundaries.  I also need good margins to absorb the unexpected.  That, and a healthy dose of the elusive discipline, and maybe I can help my kids stand on my shoulders and achieve their dreams.

I’m done being a world changer.  Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and several plaques on my walls.

Before my brother was born, I had just over three and a half years as an only child.  We moved into a bigger house when he came along, but apparently we had lived three or four other places before his birth.  I don’t have much memory of that.  I also don’t have much memory of the story I am about to tell, but every time my Dad tells it, he gets a little verklempt and proud and teary.

I was about three years old and my Mom had already begun to teach me that when my Dad returned home from work, it was a big deal.  Well on this one particular Summer day in Portland, I was in the backyard of our house on NE 62nd, just off of Burnside.  I was playing with a neighborkid on the other side of our fence.

I have to go, my Daddy is home!

My Dad poked his head out the door when he came home, just to say hi.  I turned to my friend and shouted: “I have to go, my Daddy is home!” and off I ran to leap into his arms.  I remember doing that when I was older.  In fact, it was pretty much our ritual for years.  But like I said, I was too young to remember this instance, but I will never forget the first time I heard my Dad tell the story.

I had never seen my Dad filled with so much pride.  I don’t think I ever felt more loved than when I heard him tell that story the first time.

As I think back on it, I’m not so sure my parents were quite ready to be parents when I popped out.  My Mom was barely 20 and my Dad was a cocky little 24 year old punk.  Then, add in the special circumstances of my birth - and the 10+ reconstructive surgeries (that’s a post for a later date), and you begin to see how unprepared they were to be my parents.

And, not to get all Fruedian or Shakespearian on you, but when you see photos of my Mom and that age, and see how Hot she was, it’s pretty clear my Dad wasn’t thinking family when he met her.  My Dad was quite the young turk himself.

I’m thinking that my Dad began to relish the idea of having a son worship the ground he walked on.  I did.  I always have.  I can’t remember a time when I haven’t held my Dad up to the highest of respect.

Things are different now though

Things are different now though. Dad will be 74 this Fall.  He’s always said, “You may get bigger, but you’ll never get tougher.”  Unfortunately, that has not proved to be true.  They say the best day and the saddest day of a boy’s life is when he beats his dad at sports.  They were right.

My Dad had open heart surgery quite awhile ago; and then as a complication to the medications he takes, he had a stroke in the Fall of 1998.  Since my Mom died two and a half years ago, he has become more and more frail.  He can’t stand long, needs a cane to walk, and has very little stamina for anything.

I used to watch my Dad pick up 200 pound concrete sewer pipe and throw them in the ditch.  I’ve seen him carry three sacks of dry concrete (270 lbs), just to win a bet.  My Dad was tougher, smarter (IQ=140), and wiser than just about anyone I’ve ever met.  Now, he is a withered old man.  If you were to look at him wrong he’s likely to fall over.

We don’t talk much now, but then again, we never really have

We don’t talk much now, but then again, we never really have.  We talked the most when I worked for him as the foreman of his pipeline business, but that was 30 years ago.  I call, but it seems like I am less and less motivated to call.  It is really hard to figure out what to say.  Unless we talk about baseball or the weather, but I don’t really follow baseball too much anymore.

Tonight, as I was reading to my kids, I thought of my Dad.  I was wondering if he was ever as much in love with me as I am with my kids.  I’m pretty sure he was.  I was wondering when I’ll stop being this crazy about my kids.  I don’t think I’ll ever not be crazy about them.  That made me realize that my Dad is probably as crazy about me, as I am about my kids.

My Dad is driving in from Colorado (where he lives near my brother) to visit us for a month.  He was supposed to arrive on Friday, but decided not to push it, so he’ll be arriving tomorrow.  I’m looking forward to seeing him.  My Darling Daughter is so excited and she can’t understand why he didn’t arrive yesterday, like we promised.

I miss my Dad

When he gets here, I’ll go out to hug him - just like I did when I was a kid.  The difference being that he won’t be able to hoist me up into his arms and when I hug him, it will feel like I’m going to crush him.  It is hard for him to hug back; I think he’s afraid of losing his balance.

I want so desperately to tell my Dad how much I love him.  I want to wrestle with him on the floor.  I want to stand behind the seat of some mighty backhoe and watch him pull dirt out of the ground.  I want to ride around in a dirty pickup and talk about job sites and waterlines.  I want him to hold me…like he did…again.  Forever.

I miss my Dad.

I bought my Darling Daughter a bike at a garage sale a few weeks ago.  It is a little big for her and doesn’t have training wheels.  I didn’t want her to have training wheels.  I thought if I bring it out in a couple of months, she’ll tackle it like I did when I was four.  I borrowed my friend’s bike at every opportunity and taught myself how to ride.

But my plan was thwarted by some very nice and well meaning friends.  They gave my daughter a beautiful, hardly used bike that is just her size.

Now, I was trying to think of a way to save it for later, but in the end I realized that I just needed to give it to her.  She has taken to this new bike like a baby to diapers, like a fish to water, like… well, you understand.

In fact, in the two days we’ve had the bike, it is about all she thinks about.  This morning, as she came stumbling out of the bedroom in her PJs, the first thing she asked me, while rubbing her eyes, is if she could ride her bike.  And off to the garage she ran.

A few minutes later she called me out to the garage.  I was confused because she was in the car.  She looked at me with a sly grin while telling me that she was opening the garage door. Ha! :)  What a smart girl!  She knew there was a garage-door opener, that she could reach, in the car.

It is so much fun to watch her obsession with that bike.  Oh the memories it brings back in me.

In time, she’ll outgrow this cute little bike and then I can pull the other one out of hiding in the basement.

Our little girl is going all mobile on us.

Tonight, after spending some time with some friends, I was driving though the backwoods of Columbia County.  The air was pungent with the sweet aroma of ripe blackberries.

I have not lived in blackberry territory in decades - since I left Sellwood in the early 90s.

I was thinking that I could go down to the waterfront, listen to some good piano and read my book.  So, after a stop at Burgerville, I took the detour to downtown, old town St. Helens.  The music was good, so, I read little.

I used to ride my bike around the Oaks Bottom wetlands.  It was a gentle ride, but a perfect way to wake up on a cool Summer morning.  Before heading home, I’d stop and eat my fill of blackberries.  The perfect breakfast starter.  It’s amazing how the smell of blackberries this afternoon took me back to that place.

It’s good to take a trip through time now and then

My grandfather worked in the woods.  He was a heavy equipment operator and diesel mechanic.  Often he would fill his hard hat, or lunch bucket, with fresh blackberries.  I get my exploratory nature from him.  He loved to explore and he taught me to do the same.  I was the son he never had.

When I worked at the fire station on 209th in Aloha, often, in the mornings when I got off work, I would stop at an abandoned building on the corner of 209th and TV Highway.  I would pick the abundant blackberries and reflect on the tragedy and healing I’d encountered over the past 24 hours.  A fragrance, thought to be lost in time, brings me back to simpler days.

Deadlines and conflict, people and pressures, none of it seemed to matter as the fragrant blackberry aroma wafted through my life this evening.  Had I a choice, I’d pick the fragrance over the taste.  The taste is fleeting, the fragrance lasts a lifetime.

My grandfather has been gone since 1976.  My mother since 2006.  Both of them left me a legacy of creativity and an appreciation for the things most people miss.  Sweet blackberry fragrance.  It’s good to take a trip through time now and then.

What a day it has been,  First I was confronted by a delegation from one of the organizations I lead.  They want me to continue leading them, but only if I do it their way.  Doesn’t really make sense, because they don’t need me if I do it their way.

Then I get back to my office and my Internet connection is broken.  I tracked it down to some wires and switches.  However, I just didn’t have the energy to figure out which wire wasn’t plugged in correctly to the switch.  Someone had been messing with it and I just didn’t care.

On the way home I was praying that I could get out on the water.  I was thinking about taking my family out on the canoe, but that just seemed like a lot of work.  I was thinking about going out alone, but that too seemed like a lot of work.  Just then the phone rang!

It was my friend Vern.  He owns the computer repair shop right next to the Columbia County courthouse in St. Helens.  In addition, he gets out on his kayak about 5-6 times a week.  He wanted to know if I wanted to go out.  Perfect!

We met under the Lewis and Clark Bridge, the one that joins Rainier to Longview over the mighty Columbia River.  Now I’ve not been in a kayak since I spent two weeks in one on Glacier Bay Alaska - in 1991!

They want me to wear a tie, and coat

The delegation that confronted me was an interesting bunch.  They want me to wear a tie, and coat when I meet with them.  They want me to keep their traditions, but they want to grow.  They don’t want me to do anything to make them feel uncomfortable, but they say they’re ready to change.  It would be funny if they weren’t so serious.

I told them that I may not be the right guy to lead them.  They wanted to meet again and have me bring a written statement of my vision for them.  I said no.  They aren’t ready for what I have to tell them.

There were times when I was impressed that I didn’t throw one guy out of my office.  He all but called me a liar a couple of times.  The old Gary would have thrown him out.  The maturing Gary just said, “I could take offense with what you just said, but I choose not too.”

Nevertheless, by the end of the conversation (which turned out well, despite the one saboteur, I was feeling spent.  I just wanted to escape.  So I put off the big projects that needed doing, and just focused on small, procrastinating tasks.

I forgot just how much I missed the water until I moved back to Oregon.  I forgot how cool our big rivers are until getting close to them - in a canoe or kayak.

They all conspired to speak peace into this ravaged soul

We saw some cormorants, a pair of eagles, some osprey, and a the remaining splash of where a beaver took cover as we passed.  And then, when we were about a mile or so from where we put in, the sun had gone down.  So we stopped to mount our lights.  That’s when we were approached by Federal Security officers in a boat.  They told us we had to stay 500 yards from the ship along the shore (see diagram).

I needed that little ride

When we completed our six mile loop around Lord Island, I was sweaty, exhausted, and cleansed.  I needed that little ride.

There is something about the gentle lapping of water on the hull of the boat.  There is something incredibly peaceful about listening to the breeze blow through the ubiquitous cottonwood trees on the banks of the river.  That combined with the sunset and beautiful crescent moon.  They all conspired to speak peace into this ravaged soul!

Yesterday was a busy day.  It seems like our weekends are always quite busy! Some thoughts have been rolling around in my head for the last day or so.  Ever since my wife made the comment about how social I was at our friend’s backyard party yesterday.  It got me to thinking about some stuff.

Creative, thinkers, people who are doing their best

First, we went out to Vernonia to see some friends, then we cruised on over to Sellwood to be a part of @camikaos and @drnormal’s Tiki Party.  I met them both through Twitter and have had a couple of face to face meetings - they are cool!  It is fun to have cool friends.  Creative, thinkers, people who are doing their best to live in harmony with the rest of the world.  I think everyone they invited to this party is in that category (present company excluded, of course

We had a great time!  @drnormal’s band played and they were awesome!  Met some new folks, connected with some more Twitter folks, and met some Twitter folks that I’ve never met in person before! @camikaos was a great hostess.  Even the kids had a great time!

I have never seen you be so social

As we drove home, Mommy said to me: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that social.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I have never seen you be so social. You usually hang back and don’t introduce yourself to people.”

I’ve been processing her observation

I’ve been processing her observation and the events of yesterday.  Here is my basic analysis:

1. First of all, there have been many posts written by people all over the blogosphere about how Twitter unlocks the social potential in all of us.  Just the other day @geekmommy, in Denver, said that upon first meeting Twitter friends, she is able to skip the preliminary conversations about the weather and jump right into meaningful relating.  I’ve found this to be true myself.
2. The big revelation though is the authenticity I feel amongst my social networking friends.  Those that use Twitter as a socialnetworking tool, not just an ego posting device, find that they have instantly widened their circle of friends.  In addition, most tweeters blog - and are involved in Friendfeed, Delicious, etc.  So, really, their whole life is online.  It isn’t that hard to know someone pretty transparently.
3. The final observation is that I don’t have any games to play with these folks.  They don’t affect my paycheck, my lifestyle, or my neighborhood.  I can just be me.

When I am around people that I am supposed to lead, motivate, supervise, mentor, coach, or counsel, I get all stuffed up.  I don’t know why?  Actually, they say you revert back to your stress personality when you are stressed.  So, when I don’t feel accepted, I am stressed and turn back into an introvert.

It is really funny.  I spent the first 20 years of my life as an ostracized outsider.  I was shy, introverted, and always picked last for sports - even though I am quite athletic.  The next 10 years were a period of transition, and now I am often invited to hang with the cool kids.  It is truly the revenge of the nerds.

On Twitter, and other socialnetworking sites, I can pretty much be myself.  But in other real life venues, I have an image to uphold - or, worse, people put me on a pedestal and I’m not able to step off, unless they let me.  I tell them, I’m just Gary - but they don’t listen.  I tell them that I fail, I fall, and I have struggles just like everyone else, but they don’t believe me.  And when I do make a mistake, they don’t forgive me and move on.

I spent the first 20 years of my life as an ostracized outsider

In my real life, I keep hearing rumors about complaints people have.  They won’t talk to me about it, but they’ll throw rocks behind my back.  On Twitter, or one’s blog, people will tell it to you straight.  In real life, not so much.

I think this is why I feel more outgoing and authentic with my socialnetworking friends.  I know they’ll be honest with me.

Now, my opportunity from this is to be authentic with people, regardless of what is going on in their head, their heart, or their gossip.