GraceCourtViews

Mange Takk

2014-11-30T15:32:00.002-05:00

A couple years ago I shared a charming New Yorker article about Thanksgiving with friends, mentioning it was about one of our trustees and his family. My friend Karen didn't comment on unusualness of Iraqi general at a family holiday meal in Westport during the height of the war, instead she remarked she wanted to sign up for an international hospitality service like that.

Around June Karen starts mentioning "Maybe we can have him come for Thanksgiving?", pre-booking guests for an annual holiday fete at her home in Philadelphia, a 200 year old colonial row house in Society Hill.

I was part of Karen's original Thanksgivings, when she lived in NYC with her ex-husband Jeff two decades ago. They were two Upper West Side investment banker yuppies (therefore the most "adult" in our friend group), so began hosting friends-giving Thanksgivings for those of us not traveling home to see family.

Karen continued her Thanksgiving tradition after she and Jeff moved to Philadelphia, and kept the house and the Thanksgiving party after her divorce. She now co-hosts with her boyfriend and former Norwegian camp sweetheart Viggo, a Viking by way of Minnesota.

I began attending Thanksgivings again with Karen and Viggo when I first moved back East from California, staying 3 nights for a true Big Chill style weekend. This year, like past years, was a similar gathering of the tribe for a meal, laughing about stories of past Thanksgivings (we determined I missed the 'dirty charade' year...), with a steady stream of people arriving early evening to late night after they finished their own family meal.

A notable guest missing from the gathering, was Alan, who passed away three months earlier from complications in surgery. During Thanksgiving day discussions about Alan, I reflected on a yoga class Karen, Jen and I attended earlier that day, where the teacher Bruno opened the class with a discussion around gratitude:

"This is gratitude for all things, for everything - for the tough times too," he said, "For the tough times are what help you grow."

I thought about my own losses earlier this year, with the death of my father and a close friend, and was also grateful for those months between then and now. For peace.

On Friday, after a breakfast of leftovers, and looking at college scrapbooks and silently marveling at the duration of our friendship over the years, we bundled up to tour Philadelphia to visit the Christmas fair at Love Park and the Comcast Holiday Light Show, which Viggo was insistent upon.

"Because this is what we do," he said, and I smiled to think about new traditions.

New traditions freshen longtime traditions.

Who's not with us this year gets balanced with who is.

And for all things, we give mange takk, many thanks.

Resistance

2014-11-12T23:03:00.002-05:00

After upgrading my computer, renaming the blog, enlisting support to trouble-shoot technical glitches and alerting many of you to the “relaunch” ta-dah!— well….the blank page stared back at me.

Hello Resistance, we meet again.

I had never really defined ‘lack of action’ this way before until a wonderfully insightful book called “The War of Art” found me a few months ago. As Steven Pressfield writes, “Resistance cannot be seen, touched, heard or smelled. But it can be felt. We experience it as an energy field radiating from work-in-potential. It’s a repelling force. It's negative. Its aim is to shove us away, distract us, prevent us from doing our work…”

It's “Talking about a revolution,” as my friend Dave would say.

Once I became aware of Resistance, I began seeing it everywhere, manifesting its many forms.

It’s a daily occurrence at work, and I would even say that it’s the barrier between good to great, and truly realizing our potential. Resistance can even be more apparent with loved ones, whose best self you see and believe in, and yet are armed with excuses you may know better than your own.

Steven Pressfield defines Resistance as the insidious enemy within, that thwarts plans and dreams, sabotaging small and large efforts, distracting with activity, vice and obligations.

Distracting perhaps from a life assignment…that may go unrealized.

With me, the blank sheet of paper gets tied up with waiting for inspiration to strike, in order to attempt to create something worth reading. Pressfield calls this waiting on the Muse.

The Muse seems to always be around during the seasons when life really flows, and everything clicks and falls into place. It’s in the ebbs, where things feel dry, dark and barren, when Resistance really shows up, sweeping in for the easy victory.

It’s in these moments that you must begin (like I am beginning now), not knowing where you are going, though keeping the faith that if you just start, if you make the first move, eventually the Muse will show up again…

Back to the Now

2014-10-20T14:08:00.000-04:00

This is the blog formerly known as "Back to the Future", that was first birthed on a warm late August night in 2009 in San Clemente, California with my friend Jen.

I had told Jen earlier in the evening over drinks that I wanted to create a blog about returning back to New York City for the second time after life in a sleepy southern California beach town. "Back to the Future" was the inspired title that came to me after my friend/massage therapist Heather gave me a massage to calm my relocation nerves using an oil called "Into the Future" which I mistakenly kept calling Back to the Future.

As I reread the first post I created, when I was supposed to be packing, and look at the photo on my "About me" section, I remember that girl I was....packing box after box with friends Suzi, Jane and Ellen, planning goodbyes, excited, scared, anxious, wondering if I was making a dreadful mistake, really unsure of what was ahead. And of course in the back of mind, my friend Dave's voice was always there, the change catalyst, pushing me towards the leap, "We're going to the future people, are you coming??"

I told myself I was writing "Back to the Future" so I could stay in touch with California friends and family members, though it was really more of a grounding salve for my own wobbly nerves in the weeks and months ahead. After a while, I finally let go of "I just moved" essays (my friends Stacy and Greta both said, a few times, "You live here now!") and posts became less about the transition, and more about life in NYC part 2.

Sometimes I wrote for a particular person (my muse was my Aunt Ruth at the time); sometimes something seemingly out of nowhere would inspire the writing, and whatever I was wrestling with in my mind would miraculously resolve once I began. I would write and publish quickly, knowing I'd lose my nerve and vulnerability if I stopped to edit too much. Inevitably I'd notice a typo or two after I hit "publish". "Your followers don't mind the typos..." my friend Lauren said kindly.

Over time, I'm not sure what happened, though less of 'me' came through. Sometimes there's the dry periods that comes to writers. Though I think it was a matter of looking down on the tightrope, pulling up the drawbridge, closing your heart. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The words stayed trapped inside.

I told someone several months ago that perhaps I had writers' block, as I didn't have ideas on what to write about...which wasn't quite true. A good friend was diagnosed with a rare cancer earlier this year, and my father was battling the awful disease of ALS. I had a lot of 'content' and things to say... though they were subscribers and so I edited myself by not even beginning.

A few months ago, that 'problem' sadly resolved itself...

Resistance showed up in another form when I thought about dusting off the blog and thought about changing platforms, starting new, clean slate, new title. Then it became a matter of my own technology limitations, and not knowing how to actually move blog archives, a desire to move forward though not losing the roots of where I came from. There's always a reason why you can't do something...

As in many struggles, sometimes it's the simplest answer when I realized, finally, that I could simply rename the blog.

I'm not sure what posts will be inspired for this 'new' blog of mine, though I am lowering the drawbridge and ready to share again.

Thanks for reading.

We Are So Lucky

2014-05-08T21:23:00.000-04:00

My friend Dave once said, in his inimitable funny and wise way, that there should be a Death Channel to prepare us for the inevitable.

Steve Jobs recognized the same truism in his famous commencement speech for Stanford grads:

“Remembering I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important….No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be as Death is very likely the single best invention of life. It is Life’s change agent….”

Though we are rarely prepared when it happens.

We are blindsided when a good friend gets an unexpected scary health diagnosis in early February and puts on a fight, and her family, friends and loved ones (numbering in the thousands I think!) put on a fight, and then impossibly, shockingly we learn…the treatment isn’t working.

We hear the facts, and yet somehow that doesn’t sink in.

About two weeks ago, Jen went into hospice care, and two days ago while I was away on a work trip we learned that Jen passed away. And tomorrow morning we, her broken hearted loved ones, go to her funeral, and honor the amazing daughter/aunt/colleague/dear friend she was.

And then we do the impossible, and somehow move forward without her.

Beloved by all, her ad agency created a truly wonderful happy video, giving you a glimpse into the type of person she was, and the profound impact she had on so many people. For many of us, Jen was often the person you’d want to talk with about major and minor life events. And of course, she’s the one who I want to talk with most about this.

When I moved back to New York 4 ½ years ago, she gave me this print as a homecoming present. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been reflecting on its words - We Are So Lucky - thinking that none of this felt very fair, or very lucky.

And yet...if truly lucky people recognize it’s the people they love and get to share life with that matter most, Jen may be one of the luckiest of us all.

Lessons from Winter

2014-02-09T13:25:00.004-05:00

The above photo is of Grace Court looking west towards the river, that I think I either snapped last week or a couple snow storms ago. I have lost count!

My first winter back I remember complaining a lot, wishing I was back in California and doing yoga on the beach surrounded by flowering trees and leaping dolphins in the magical coves of Laguna. My friend Jen commented I sounded a lot like Caroline, our friend Lisa's young daughter, who had a temper tantrum one cold January because she put on her bathing suit and wanted to go to the beach. Kindof cute when you're five, not as much when you're several years older...

After 4 winters back East, I believe I have finally learned how to appreciate, and most of the time, embrace winter. My acupuncturist (I say this knowing a few of you may chuckle and think "California" still, and yes) discusses seasons with the Chinese Medicine perspective, as symbolic seasonal shifts to be in harmony with for optimal health and well being.

Ultimately, it's also a lesson in pragmatism...Winter in the Northeast is an inevitability, and somewhat foolish to keep resisting it; may as well go for comfort not style in big down coats and snow boots, keep your head and neck warm and be like those smart bears and stay inside with hot soup and warm tea and just go to bed early until spring buds eventually arrive.

Of course there's a certain beauty to winter, a sense of stillness and quiet, when you can look at trees and see "rest" instead of "barren". You can look at the absence of color whiteness, like the photo above, and think "how peaceful" vs. "where is Hudson River?" and "Is the sun ever coming back??"    Attitude shifts are the critical ingredient in glass half full vs. glass half empty thinking, though of course some days are harder than others to maintain that perspective...

Yesterday a friend of mine from Manitoba, Canada (who I would hope has perfected the idea of embracing winter even better than myself!) posted a high minded platitude "Gratitude with every step" on her facebook status, and I smiled appreciating the sentiment.

I learned a few seconds later she updated the post and wrote: "Now that we can edit our statuses, I can tell you than about 20 seconds after I posted the above - while feeling the lift of gratitude in my steps, I stepped in shit, literally, and I forgot all about the gratitude. Well played life, well played."

It brought me back to earlier this week, during the snow/freezing rain/ice storm of Wednesday, when I was making my way into midtown with my fellow subway commuters, slogging our way through slow crowded trains, grumpy people with wet umbrellas, and small lakes of slush on Park Avenue.   Though I was wearing high Adirondack boots, I stepped into a deep puddle of slush and water, and got my feet wet, and grimaced as I thought about being in a full day meeting with wet socks, wet hair and cold feet.

Finally making my way to the conference room where our meeting was held, I was pulling off my boots and socks and struggling to maintain a sense being calm and pleasant to my colleagues (though felt like growling "Our office is closed, why in the world didn't we cancel this meeting??"), when I happened to check my phone and saw a text from a good friend....sharing unfortunate news about her health diagnosis, and that she was in a state of shock.

My heart sank as I immediately stopped thinking about my wet feet and ice falling off the building, thinking instead of my friend and trying to imagine what she must be feeling and struggling with.

When you step into the unexpected large puddles or "shit" of life, you immediately realize there's an enormous difference between the theory and practice of rolling with the punches and maintaining gratitude with every step.   During those blindsiding times, I think it's simply enough to just try to do the best you can, and when you're able, put one foot after the other...

Back to the Future

2013-10-08T09:03:00.006-04:00

Last weekend I was in Chicago for Northwestern's homecoming and my college reunion.

Initially walking into the reunion party on Friday night was a bit shocking as many people looked a bit older than how I pictured them in my mind from freshman year! (My Rob has a theory that your friends don't age, though others do...). Evanston also blossomed from a 'dry town' where the prevailing nightlife was going to a fraternity party or heading south to Chicago, to a true college town with restaurants, shops and of course bars.

The next day, walking around the beautiful campus, located on the shores of Lake Michigan, we also noted what's changed and what's endured.

Though the biggest change was the sense of school spirit, which I think is a direct link to having a great football team.

When I was in school, Northwestern's football team was legendary for its string of losses, and the prevailing sentiment was intellectual apathy. "Lake the posts" referred to the rare victory tradition of students ripping the goal posts down for a Lake Michigan bath.

Though we weren't the ultimate underdogs, we seemed to expect to lose...

Now, in dramatic contrast, last Saturday students and alums were decked in purple, the water fountain had purple water, ESPN was on campus, and the nationally ranked football team led by the beloved coach Pat Fitzgerald was going to play in a primetime ABC broadcast of the Northwestern Wildcats vs. Ohio State Buckeyes.

Ohio State, #3 in the nation, consistently a "great football team" (and rival if you grew up in Michigan), was predicted to win. And yet, during the game, it seemed as if, as if...a miracle might happen.

In the end we lost, yet played like we expected to win. My friend Dennis commented that if we won, Northwestern might have moved up to a top 10 national ranking. "But that can't really happen," he said, "We're not supposed to have a good football team."

Interesting to think about the limitations of the fixed ideas we carry with us.

What's Right in Front of You

2013-07-09T08:25:00.003-04:00

When I lived on the west coast, looking at a different ocean for six years, I often thought of the Atlantic.

Now the Atlantic didn't conjure up images of beach trails and drum circles, someone strumming a guitar around a fire pit, surfers turtling out under the waves for the last surf of the day before the sun slipped past the horizon. That was California, the golden dream of the golden land, or "The great experiment" as my friend Dave would sometimes say. A place so beautiful that when I saw it last, I almost couldn't believe I once lived there.

Now the Atlantic was ultimately more than dunes and soft grasses, the warm gulf stream waters of South Florida and big white sandy stretches of Eastern Long Island and the rocky coastlines and barrier islands of Nova Scotia. It was who not what, that ultimately anchored me back East.

(Though a good friend in California did comment that I could 'Take a lap around the room before committing to a location'.)

A special trick of course is to make sure to mentally capture the moment, the time, when it happens, trying not to skip ahead too much, realizing that one day the "good ol' days' will be the actual day you are in at the moment. A yoga teacher might say this is being present. It's also about appreciation, which is often seen best in hindsight instead of the actual moment.

Over the 4th of July, I was at an annual party, where the lawn was full of people dressed in red, white and blue, and fireworks being shot off right over head (to the tune of Neil Diamond "Coming to America" no less). It was one of those perfect East Coast July evenings, blue skies, mild weather and ice cream, crisp white beadboard and soft purple hydrangeas in full bloom.

More than once it has reminded me of the final scene in the film "Meet Joe Black" where Joe Black (death, played by Brad Pitt) is about to escort William Parrish (Anthony Hopkins) away, later that evening, during his 65th birthday celebration. William Parrish has gotten a rare 'heads up' about Joe Black's nature, so he's given the rare gift of not wasting the moment. Fireworks are exploding over head and everyone that William Parrish knows and loves are with him that night. William Parrish notices Joe Black caught up in the beauty all around him and comments, "It's hard to let go isn't it." Joe replies, "Yes it is, Bill." Bill replies, "And that's life...what can I tell you."

Enjoying the ride, all of the ride, requires a certain discipline, and more often than not, you're only able to see the road signs when looking backwards.

Yesterday I was rushing from work to meet two close friend I've known for over 20 plus years, one who was in town for a meeting. My office air conditioning was broken and I was running late due to a train stall and being stuck underground with equally sweaty and grumpy people. As I made my way down 6th Avenue, I had to laugh at the big reminder right in front of me.

EnJOY.

The Miracle of Spring

2013-05-01T08:19:00.007-04:00

One of the things I appreciate most about being back East is the true sense of seasons, and the glory (relief?) of spring finally arriving.

While it hasn't been the coldest winter that I remember (at least in my 4th winter back East), it seems like it's been the longest with March coming in and leaving like a lion, with "chance of snow" a lingering grumble in the weather report.

Living in temperate places like California or more tropical like South Florida, warm sunny days can become commonplace and even taken for granted. Back East, the short, dark, colorless days and constant chill in the air make the physical and emotional hibernation of winter a necessary retreat.

Around mid March I kept looking up at the bare trees on my street and wondering if I'd ever see buds. Mentally you think you will, but in the midst of winter, you begin to have your doubts.

Believing, which is unseen knowing, without a shade of proof, becomes a bit harder...

Somehow, after some false starts and late season snowstorms, the clouds clear, the rain stops, the sun warms, the earth turns, people shed their layers, dust off the cobwebs and embrace the new season.

Barren trees on my street, lacking any signs of bud life, suddenly burst forth with glorious bloom.

And while it happens every year, every year it feels somehow miraculous.

Perhaps spring is our reminder to believe there's always room for miracles.

State of Wonder

2013-03-03T11:17:00.000-05:00

A friend from California (and New York part 1) called me a couple weeks ago when she was driving up the Coast Highway from Laguna to Newport. "I heard Billy Squier on the radio twice today and thought of you."

While listening to an 80's arena rock star has a funny free association trigger effect, Eli and I hadn't chatted in a while so I'm grateful to Billy for prompting the call.

She mentioned she hadn't 'heard' from me in a while, meaning it's been a while since I've written some blog posts. Looking back over the past couple of months I can probably attribute this to 'being busy' - fairly regular travel and a lot of activities at home, a heavy work season of planning and budgeting, personal planning and budgeting - a real over balance of left brain in my right brain world. Oh and it's been winter - I no longer live in a place where there's lemon trees, constant sunshine, the smell of the ocean and yoga on the beach in January and February.

Seasons have their magic, though I can make the assumption that many of us are quite ready for spring.

Friday morning I was at my desk reviewing a powerpoint when a colleague from the Adirondacks sent me a photo of a bobcat one of our scientists had shared from a tracking study. Throughout the day I kept looking at the photo, immediately transported to the great forest of the Adirondacks, hearing the quiet, the bobcat softly moving through the woods. Alone? For food? From where, to where? What else is in those mighty woods? My imagination, like a cold radiator, finally sputtered and sparked to life.

I posted the photo on facebook and within 5 minutes a well known editor and television personality commented on my post, along with several others - an immediate visceral reaction to the awe and wonder of nature, and the amazing world we live in.

While the calendar says spring is around the corner, I'm still in my uniform of a long down coat, hat, scarf and sweater today. Though, thanks to a bobcat hundreds of miles away, it's closer.

Possibilities

2012-12-31T10:31:00.002-05:00

'And now let us welcome the New Year,

full of things that never were.'

- Rainer Maira Rilke

I've shared the new 2013 Nature Conservancy calendars with friends and family (some of the calendar's biggest fans tend to be the 12 years and under set who enjoy the animals). A couple people commented that they don't use paper calendars anymore, that they keep track of everything electronically on their phone and tablet. I do as well but...there's something to actually writing things down on paper, seeing the whole month and year view, looking back and looking forward, the symbolism of literally turning a page to a new year ahead. Starting anew.

End of year brings up a lot of things, certainly reflection on the past 12 months. The media reminds us of the largest events of the past year (strangely, just with the events of the past 2 months alone I had actually forgotten the Olympics were this past summer). There's a compression of time, a desire to see highlights and macro trends, to pull out general themes as a way to package what happened. Businesses often have year end closings, the mad dash to get billing in before the books are closed and budget cycles begin.

Though personal year in review can even more powerful, looking at past 12 months, reflecting on some very happy moments, sadness and loss, small and large achievements and individual struggles. Perhaps some goal setting, or making thoughtful resolutions and intentions for the year ahead.

One of my favorite New Years memories was when I was home from college and spending New Years Eve with Rob, a good friend from freshman year, my sister and Rob's brother Tom in a cabin in Northern Michigan that Rob's grandfather owned. I don't remember much of the eve other that I'm sure lots of music, drinking and laughter, but I do remember New Years Day when we clomped in heavy coats through the trees and the thick snow and pretended we were Bono in the original MTV "New Years Day" video. I remember the remoteness of place, the only sounds being snow crunching underfoot and our amateur singing talents bellowing over the quietness, and a sense that we were the only people in the world.

Looking up the video again, Bono had commented that he wanted 'snow as image of surrender' ....

This is a magic time of year, if we take advantage of the opportunity to really let go of what no longer serves us, turn the page and look ahead to new adventures and possibilities that we may not have even imagined quite yet. And to add the most important ingredient to cherished or new dreams that are planted - to do it!

Henry Ward Beecher, a famous clergyman at Plymouth Church here in Brooklyn Heights, once said: " Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take no interest in things that were and are past."

Happy New Year everyone.

Stragglers

2012-11-21T10:17:00.000-05:00

"Don't think I ever sent you this" was his email headline, when NY Board trustee and my Obi-Wan Kenobi mentor Sam Howe forwarded this story below to me. I hope the spirit of Thanksgiving touches us all this holiday (and yes, we all want to spend Thanksgiving at Sam's house now!)

THE GENERAL

by Ben Ryder HoweDECEMBER 12, 2005

Thanksgiving began as a gathering of two tribes, the Wampanoag Indians and the Pilgrims, and today that hospitable flavor remains in some dining rooms, where by tradition a few seats are reserved for guests who are far from home or otherwise on their own. This year, the Howe family of Westport, Connecticut, had several last-minute additions to their holiday table. One of them was an Iraqi general, a thirty-year veteran of Saddam Hussein’s army, in from Baghdad.

The general, along with seven other Iraqi government officials, was in the United States to observe security facilities along America’s borders. The tour, arranged by the State Department, had taken the Iraqis to Seattle, El Paso, and Jacksonville. Now it was finishing up with trips to American households to celebrate Thanksgiving.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, the general, accompanied by a State Department interpreter, arrived at the front door of the Howes’ 1850 Greek Revival. Sam Howe is a cable-television executive; his wife, Rebecca, had answered a notice in the Westport News, announcing that the International Hospitality Committee of Fairfield County was soliciting families to entertain foreign guests. “We were expecting a Fulbright scholar, or maybe a diplomat,” Rebecca said. The Howes had invited a dozen relatives, and had learned of their guest’s identity only thirty-six hours before they were to sit down to dinner. They were a bit apprehensive. “We were afraid that having him might alter the tone of the celebration,” Sam said. “We thought he might show up in uniform,” Rebecca added.

The general—who wore a corduroy topcoat, a maroon V-necked sweater, and a rep tie—turned out to be an ideal guest. Urbane and inquisitive, he spent much of the day on the living-room couch, sipping cranberry spritzers and sampling Wellfleet oysters, spiced nuts, and endive-and-blue-cheese crudités. The general was well informed about the issue of the day, the Iraq war, but he refused to dominate the discussion. “I would like to know what you think,” he said when he was asked for his political opinions. “It is a day for laughing, not shouting.”

The general, who is in his late fifties, is an old hand at courtly palaver, having visited every country in the former Soviet Union as well as most of the Middle East. This was his first trip to America. He’d been nervous about coming, because the America he’d seen in movies looked like a nation of bloodthirsty savages (a perception that Saddam’s propagandists had been happy to reinforce). It was a shock to him that he had not been shot at during his weeklong trip. “You are a civilized country,” he said over and over.

After the meal, the group (which included two academics, a therapist, and a folk-music teacher) retired to the living room, where the Howes had a fire going. The general described his tour, earlier that day, of the Westport police station. An officer there, “a very generous man,” had shown the general around the jail. “I said to him, ‘What is the biggest problem in your precinct, murder or robbery?’ Do you know what he said to me? ‘Neither.’ His biggest problem is traffic. You are a very civilized country.”

“When you return to Iraq, what will your biggest problem be?” a guest asked.

“Do I have to answer that question?” the general said. “I am enjoying myself too much to think about that right now.” He did admit that he was dreading the stomach-churning corkscrew landing that his plane would be forced to make at the airport in Baghdad.

Someone brought out a camera and tried to take a group picture. The general edged away. “I have to ask—is this for publication?” he said.

“It’s for a family album,” the photographer said.

“Good,” the general said, moving back into frame. “Because if certain people in Iraq were to find out I am in America . . .” He drew his index finger across his throat.

At the end of the afternoon, the general, declining a second serving of chocolate-chip pie, got up from the sofa and said it was time to go.

“I hope we have not made your wife work too hard,” he said to Sam.

The general planned to spend his last night in America in New York City, where he had a ticket to see “The Phantom of the Opera” on Broadway.

First Snow

2012-11-08T08:17:00.003-05:00

The first snowfall has arrived in our region, beginning yesterday early afternoon, swirling outside my window at work, falling heavily to carpet the city streets. Colleagues in Long Island and Westchester called with some weary dismay that the power they finally got back after nearly 10 days, was knocked out again.

I walked backwards from the subway home, to more easily navigate the route against snow blowing into my eyes. Later in the evening I heard from neighbors that a tree fell down on Grace Court, crushing at least 2 cars, and I imagine more of that has been reported in the surrounding area.
New storm reports caused a sinking feeling in many of us, thinking heavily on so many people in the region who were terribly impacted by Hurricane Sandy.

Adding to the emotion of all of this was of course the Presidential Election. As in the nature of our democracy and political system, there's ultimately going to be one winner and one loser. Whether people were voting for someone or against someone, elated or depressed by the results, it's seemed that the tensions and emotions have gotten more extreme and even more polarizing in the past decade, and perhaps an amplification of that has been due to social media and the ability to share your view with hundreds sometimes thousands of people. And for them to comment, agree or argue back. A close friend of mine in LA noted wisely on facebook that she was looking forward to the day after the election, when she would stop seeing and sharing all the views and thoughts.

We're all a bit weary from things.

Though, as I looked at the first snow this morning, dusting the pier-turned-into-a-soccer-field, I remembered a line from one of my favorite books, "A Prayer for Owen Meany" where the narrator John notes that his Grandmother always said snow was healing. He commented that it was a very 'Yankee' point of view, as if there's a lot of something, it must be good for you!

When I lived in Michigan, Evanston or New York City part 1 and part 2, waking up to a carpet of snow always gives me that New Years Day feeling, a sense of a blank slate, a reset, the promise of a new day ahead. May it give the same to you.

Tuning Out, Tuning In

2012-11-05T23:21:00.003-05:00

My office officially opened today, a week after Sandy struck the East Coast, and the city slowly lurched back to 'normal life.' While I was very happy to put something on other than yoga pants and travel into "Big Town", it suddenly seemed like a different season, chilly and dark by 5 pm, a foreshadowing of winter months ahead.

Most of the subway lines were now working but service was crowded and a little slow. Many offices didn't have heat, many people in the area still didn't have power or gas for their cars. Shattering reports of the loss of lives and homes continued on the news, thousands of people in flooded areas who've lost so much and have no place to go. The other lead news story has been the Presidential election, slogging out for several months now, and taking its tole on many.

I've found myself selectively tuning out the national and metro area discourse yet tuning in to what I would call the "micro conversation' happening at a hyper local level here. The one where we're staying very much in touch, and helping each other out through the collective trauma of the past week. The one where we're quickly responding to grassroots calls for volunteers or critical supplies needed in some of the most impacted areas that haven't been reached by FEMA or Red Cross. The one where we're a little humbler and kinder than we usually are, or at least complain a little less.

"Humans of New York" , the 'photographic census of New York' site, with the pitch perfect tenor for the city, shows me the story of the storm that I really want to know...

"These kids made me laugh. Despite their predicament, they were pretty excited about being on HONY. When I walked up, they were in the process of dismounting from the boat. But they helped me out by piling back in for the photo op."
https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork

"We ordered a bunch of pizzas for the firefighters. And when we came to pick them up, they refused to let us pay for them."

https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork

"I discovered these four on a devastated street in New Dorp. They were cleaning debris out of a flooded house. The couple on the left is from Harlem. The couple on the right is from Ireland. They met this morning on the Staten Island Ferry, and decided to spend the day volunteering together."

https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork

Firefighters from FDNY Engine 228. When I was taking the photo, a bystander leaned in and whispered: "They aren't even on the job. It's their day off."
https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork

"America was a great force in the world, with immense prestige, long before we became a great military power. The power has come to us and we cannot renounce it, but neither can we afford to forget that the real constructive force in the world comes not from bombs, but imaginative ideas, warm sympathies, and a generous spirit."

- Robert F. Kennedy, "Make Gentle the Life of This World"

We're going to continue to hear a lot about what went wrong, in the storm, in our city infrastructure and response, in our country. Don't forget what's happening that's right.

Dark City

2012-11-02T01:29:00.003-04:00

The wake of superstorm Sandy has provided the world with devastating images of loss of lives, homes, submerged cars, wrecked businesses and coastline destruction of the Northeast.

There are also many who have lost much less, yet four days later, are having a very tough week.

As the news media has shared, thousands of people across the greater metropolitan region are without power - lights, water, heat - and basic connectivity with the outside world through phone or other electronic devises. Uptown, life is as it was a week ago, unchanged. Downtown it's the 19th century, with hundreds of thousands of people traveling nomad like many blocks north to charge phones, get water for flushing toilets, visiting ATMs, eating, sitting in warmth for a few hours, then returning home before nightfall. It's devastating on a wholly different level to look across the harbor and see the bottom half of Manhattan in the dark, like the heart of darkness in Gotham City.

Some friends in Manhattan and New Jersey without power I've stayed in touch with via quick texts and facebook posts. When you read the posts you have a sense of them reaching out from the abyss, and you can almost feel the pure desire to connect, with somebody, anybody, even through the cold and impersonal nature of facebook. You can imagine how cold and lonely it must feel, and scary too when winter darkness arrives at 5pm and the light has drained from the day, and there's many hours until bedtime.

No one really wants to complain. They feel bad about it, they know this is temporary, they haven't lost their home or a child or a husband - and they know they live in the 21st century, in a first world country, in New York City aka "The Center of the Universe" no less. They intellectually know that millions of people all over the world have to walk miles for water, never have electricity, heat, indoor plumbing, hot showers. Still, this is not what we are used to here, and it's really very difficult to sit in your home at night, in the cold and in the dark, and try to remain positive.

A close friend in TriBeCa who has been living in Dark City with her husband, teenage son and sick dog, sent a joyful text and image today - a Duracell truck parked in Lower Manhattan giving away free batteries and charging stations for all people who needed it. She and her husband walked across the Brooklyn Bridge this afternoon to come to Brooklyn Heights for grocery shopping, showers, phone charging and hugs and we proclaimed Duracell PR heroes and that we'd never buy another brand of battery again.

Soon the time came for them to leave, to travel back to Dark City before night fell, to walk the dog, take care of their teenage son, and then sit in the dark and try to sleep. She sent another image walking across the Brooklyn Bridge of Manhattan Bridge and said how scary and lonely it was to walk across the bridge in the dark.

Everyone is hoping that power will be restored by this weekend, and eventually flooded subways will be drained and functional, and soon we'll be back to 'normal.' In the meantime, a lot of people are trying to remain positive, and waiting for our bright lights to return.

Aftermath

2012-10-31T08:43:00.003-04:00

My next door neighbor posted the above photo on Facebook, showing the powerful contrast of lower Manhattan two months ago on September 11th anniversary and last night.

I took the photo above of New York Harbor few minutes ago where I ritualistically look out at the water from my little kitchen window when coffee is brewing. The harbor is typically full of life -

ferries, barges, small motor crafts, sailing vessels, helicopters during 'rush hour' flying from New Jersey to Wall Street and back, and frequently cruise ships leaving port from the Hudson going out to sea.

The stillness, the quiet, the absence of light - distinctive characteristics of New York City - are temporarily hushed during the aftermath of 'Superstorm Sandy.'

I personally fared so much better than many - never lost power, never was flooded (though the parking lot and road by the soccer field pier above was shockingly a lake during the height of the storm), temporarily lost internet and cable tv, have food, water, shelter, very very okay.

It's hard not to think about how life was in New York City in the days, weeks and months that followed September 11th attacks, when invincible city dwellers were humbled with loss of lives, power, homes, public transportation, not knowing when you might return to work, the grumpiness of not having ordinary convenience of local businesses that you are used to, and the mere shock of the enormity of it all.

Friends in New Jersey are surrounded by devastation and some suffering significant home damage. A few in NJ and NY are without power, potentially for many days, and likely feeling that dull reality of how good life really was when you could just turn on a light, charge your phone, watch TV or have a hot shower.

Family and friends from all over are checking in, and we are frequently checking in with each other locally, grateful to have texts from friends and colleagues in Manhattan that you're temporarily cut off from with flooded subway tracks that may take not days but weeks to pump out.

Many are gaining a much wider perspective of New York City as not just being about tall buildings, dense population, bright lights, 24/7 activity, but in reality a small geographic area that's part of one of the largest natural harbors in the world. (We are part of it, it's not just a small part of us...)

Like others who emerge from natural and man made disasters, we will be okay. We will move forward and take care of each other and clean up. We will temporarily remember again what matters most.

Storm Watch

2012-10-29T15:12:00.000-04:00

A few years ago when I was living in California, I remember being at a Labor Day weekend barbecue in San Francisco's Noe Valley and my friends calling me "Doppler" because I kept running inside to check the Weather Channel. This seemed very strange to everyone under California's ubiquitous blue skies and sunshine, a beautiful day like many countless beautiful days out there, where weather changes are on the whole a lot more subtle.

When your family lives in Florida, paying attention to Hurricane Season becomes second nature. You know that if certain storms stay on track, a sense of automatic pilot takes over: lawn furniture and plants go inside, provisions and extra water are purchased, boats are secured, generators come out, hurricane shutters are closed, quick calls are made to friends in the Bahamas and then everyone hunkers down to wait it out, and hope that it passes quickly.

Of course the Labor Day storm I was paying attention to under California's cloudless skies was Katrina, that took an unexpected turn, and didn't hit Florida after all, and instead dramatically impacted a beloved city to many.

This year, a late season storm missed Florida again though my niece Ellie took advantage of the giant storm's feeder bands for a spin around the neighborhood yesterday, while further up the East Coast we all prepared for the arrival of Hurricane Sandy.

Hurricanes definitely aren't second nature to us here, though 'events' certainly are, and yesterday seemed quintessentially "New York" as little kids were out in full costume going to Halloween parties, and other people hitting bars and restaurants to stock up on social time out and being around a lot of people, two things we are very used to here. Liquor stores were packed, stores were cleared out, with notable empty bread and salty snack aisles. "There's not even chocolate donuts left," someone grumbled to me in line yesterday.

Schools and offices sent closing notices yesterday, and our mighty public transportation artery of subways, buses, ferries and trains that powers a city of over 8 million people and greater metropolitan area over over 18 million people closed at 7 pm yesterday. Mayor Bloomberg issued mandatory evacuations for neighborhoods that might be flooded by tidal surge, and the stock market closed for the first time since September 11th in 2001. Atlantic City closed and the Jersey Shore evacuated. Governors in the Tri-State area had press conferences. Jim Cantore arrived on the scene.

Earlier today, the air was calm and still, and neighbors were outside with kids and dogs, getting some fresh air before the rain and wind arrives. Friends and family sent texts and emails- New Yorkers checking in with one another in the city, others from around the country reacting to news and hoping for an easy storm. I cooked while listening to early U2 and kept the Weather Channel off.

So now we wait, a type A city that isn't good at "pause", waits.

Tribute in Light

2012-09-11T23:45:00.000-04:00

I got home late this evening from a meeting and noticed the American flag hanging outside my building. Of course the eleventh anniversary of September 11th was on my mind quite a lot this morning, though from mid afternoon until evening I was in a meeting and got caught up with the business of the day. I had forgotten about it until seeing the flag outside, which isn't usually there.

Before walking into my building I looked up to see the twin pillars of light soaring upward from across the river, bending upward to the heavens. I went up on the roof deck and looked west to lower Manhattan and paused for a few minutes just absorbing the profound beauty of the Tribute in Light.

My downstairs neighbors were also the roof, having a glass of wine, just quietly looking across the harbor at the city and the light. We spoke for a few minutes and had the same conversation that most New Yorkers who were here that day have on September 11th - where you were that day and what you saw. "I can't believe it's been eleven years," one of my neighbors said. I thought about how the lights remind us to never forget, and that life goes on.

Apparently on clear nights like tonight, you can see the Tribute in Light over 60 miles away. Whether it's a distant beacon or as intimate as across the river, the lights also serve their most basic function - to illuminate the darkness.

Meet the Superheroes

2012-08-13T08:24:00.002-04:00

The 2012 Summer Games are over, that finite period of time when there's a sharp contrast of night after night of exciting 'destination TV viewing' as we say in marketing, better ads and inspiring examples of what it means to be an athlete . Country pride gets a healthy and needed bump during this event, and for a brief period the world watches real life examples of the cause and effect of extreme focus, dedication and long time dreams coming true.

A couple weeks ago I was in Nova Scotia during the beginning of the games, watching some of the morning and evening viewing in "Olympic village' with some young athletes who happen to be my nieces and godchildren. Katy had announced she wanted to either go to the Olympics for volleyball or go to college on volleyball scholarship (or both). Connor, who would set his alarm to be up early to first go on his computer to check overnight results and then watch the Canadian programming before NBC would begin morning coverage, was keeping diligently keeping track of the stats for all events, all athletes, all countries, while also trying to narrow his focus to what sport he liked best. Though, given his correspondence with an editor from Sports Illustrated, perhaps a future Olympic commentator?

Whether they are part of the 2016, 2020 or 2024 games, the impact of sports on their lives is positive and profound.

In case everyone is feeling withdrawal, please click the link to watch a promo for another athletic event this month. For inspiration around how far you can go, perhaps the Summer Games were just a warm up? Meet the Superheroes.

Highest and Best Use of Time

2012-06-14T08:07:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was my one year anniversary of my 'new job', which of course after a year isn't so new anymore!

Though, like a birthday, or year-end celebration, it's an important marker of time.

I had dinner last night with a close friend in town from San Francisco and we were discussing life changes in the past 2-3 times we've seen each other, which have been many!

It's at the milestones we tend to think about the quickening of time, and the things we've done, or want to do, and reflect on the broad changes from a sequence of days.

After I got home, I received a very out of the blue text from another friend in California who reminded me of something my friend Dave used to say (and I think still continues to say to me): "Make the highest and best use of your time."

While I am not sure this was a coincidence, it's likely Dave's way of reminding me/all of us that when you look at a sequence of days, you have to first reanimate yourself around who and what you are spending your time on.

World Ocean Day

2012-06-07T11:19:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow, June 8th, is World Ocean Day. As someone who works in marketing, I'm aware there are many 'days' to celebrate (the goofiest one I ever heard of was 'Sandwich Day' which I believe Baggies helped to launch a few years ago).

World Ocean Day is another matter though. Whether you are coastal or inland, whether the ocean represents food, income, playground or purely inspiration and wonder, the fact is we're all connected in one big eco-system. Treasuring and protecting our oceans directly impacts us (and hundreds of thousands of species).

Happy World Ocean Day everyone. And thank you to surf icon Kelly Slater for your support too!

Life Isn't Fair, but It's Still Good

2012-06-02T10:36:00.001-04:00

I reread an essay earlier this week by Regina Brett, a journalist with the Cleveland Plain Dealer who wrote a column that her editor didn't like and almost didn't run, but ended up circulating the world many times over and eventually turned into a book. She wrote a column about life lesson's, with the perspective that came after she successfully fought breast cancer.

A close friend was diagnosed with breast cancer this week, and as I was processing the news, needed a reminder that life is good even if it isn't fair sometimes.

As sometimes life is also sharply ironic, this morning I was talking with someone about a mutual person we know who isn't very happy. Now, on the outside, if this person isn't happy, I'm not sure who is as he's someone who seems to 'have it all', the American dream turbo charged. As we talked I couldn't help but think a bit angrily What else does he want? What would do it? He's not going to be dealing with breast cancer. Though of course it's not more houses, more trips, more success, I think the trick has to do with quality of heart.

Oprah Winfrey (do all roads lead to Oprah...?) once said that the single most important thing that changed her life was gratitude. Perhaps it's the appreciation of the present moment that creates the shift, that focuses us on what we have, and not thinking about the past and the future, which come to us with no guarantees.

My friend's heart has always been in the right place so while she's going to be facing some health challenges, she has the right spirit and strength, and I know she deeply believes that life is good. She'll be okay. It's the other guy who I feel sorry for....

The Best Laid Plans

2012-04-23T08:29:00.000-04:00

About a week ago, someone from the Today Show called, trying to research a potential story. "When did Earth Day become Earth Week?"the producer asked. I wasn't sure but assumed it had something to do with increased public awareness and therefore marketing.

The original Earth Day was April 22, 1970, a day that led to the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency and landmark environmental policy laws such as the National Environmental Policy Act, The Clean Air Act, The Clean Water Act, The Endangered Species Act. Forty two years later, Earth Day has come to symbolize the day (or week) we think about taking care of our planet.

Earlier in the week I was able to tag along to some of our events including ringing the closing bell at the New York Stock Exchange, a panel on urban conservation, and a high profile speaking engagement for our CEO.

But 'Superbowl Sunday' was yesterday, Earth Day. Like many of our colleagues across the world we were planning a big Picnic for the Planet event to encourage people to just get outside and enjoy, and celebrate our planet home that gives us clean air, clean water and the food we eat.

We planned a fun line up for the day, worked with event experts, developed a robust cross promotional plan, crossed all the t's and dotted the i's. And hoped for "72 and Sunny"...

Though we've had amazingly lovely sunny spring days and a really mild winter, things turned yesterday and temperatures dropped to the high 40's, and we had a deluge of rain.

I kept a smile plastered on my face, though it was hard not to be disappointed. Earth Day was literally a wash. And yet...

One of our bands, aptly named Sunny Weather, still rocked the picnic as if there was a crowd of thousands under the pavilion...

People kitted up in rain gear and layers and came out anyway....

Kids jumped in puddles, ran like cougars and 'Predator Olympics' went on...

And we danced.

Grass, trees, plants and many happy worm-seeking birds, were also in attendance and delighted for some needed rain, as of course Earth Day is really for everyone.

As the band ended their set, the lead singer thanked everyone for coming, and acknowledged that while it would have been great to have a warm sunny day:

"We're not in charge."

Happy Earth Day everyone.

"Boy, I got vision, and the rest of the world wears bifocals..."

2012-03-31T11:30:00.000-04:00

I have a good friend from San Francisco (with a heart 10x the size of most) who, like a force of nature, blows into town unexpectedly from time to time, always with some sort of fun happening and interesting people in her wake.

As an example: She's in town Monday and has extra tickets to the Paul Newman benefit tribute at Lincoln Center.

(In addition to this being a good example about Lori, this is also how life actually moves in this fairytale called New York).

Paul Newman is in my top 'most admired' list. Besides starring in my favorite film "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", it was his benevolent nature that was even more attractive than his charm and blue eyed swagger. Acting seemed like a side gig; Paul's best performance art was showing us how to live.

His work with Newman's Own and the Hole in the Wall Gang is legendary, raising the bar for future generations of celebrities with a cause. He was also a well known supporter of my organization, starring in a PSA that many still talk about. He was the embodiment of "To whom much is given, much is expected...."

A favorite quote of his:
"We are such spendthrifts with our lives, the trick of living is to slip on and off the planet with the least fuss you can muster. I’m not running for sainthood. I just happen to think that in life we need to be a little like the farmer, who puts back into the soil what he takes out.”

Listening to Others

2012-03-21T08:02:00.000-04:00

My yoga teacher (whose blog I read regularly even if I'm not as regular in my practice) wrote a lovely post about being still and listening to yourself that you can read if you click this link.

Yesterday I had the opportunity of listening to others, in what marketers call "focus groups."

In the private sector, focus groups are often conducted in different markets (cities), with moderated discussions probing consumer targets (select groups of people based on demographic or psychographic profiles, or some other measure) about a variety of things that may have to do with why they like brand X over brand Y, their opinions on certain product or service benefits, impressions on new advertising creative, regional preferences and so on.

Certain companies and brands who pride themselves on innovation may put less stock in 'consumer insights' learned from focus groups. Steve Jobs famously said, "It's really hard to design products by focus groups. A lot of times, people don't know what they want until you show it to them."

Though listening to focus groups about more mundane matters such as what brand of toothpaste they would purchase over another at a grocery store, or what might motivate them to change cell phone service providers can be interesting and revealing, because stopping to listen to what others think outside of your own organization always is.

An often repeated quote from real life 'Mad Men' David Ogilvy, that has stood the test of time: "The consumer isn't a 'moron'; she is your wife."

Even more interesting to me was what I experienced yesterday: listening to people discuss why they personally decided to support a non-profit organization, why they might have decided to do this on a monthly basis, and why they might have been doing so for 20 to sometimes 30 plus years.

I was sitting next to someone from the research department of a large ad agency and he said, "I have never listened to such an engaged focus group before."

I commented to one of my colleagues, "Some of these people have been giving to our organization longer than you have been alive."

Not every focus group is inspiring and humbling, but I think no matter what you are listening for, it's the 'why' that matters....

Here's to the Explorers!

2012-03-09T08:23:00.002-05:00

While my day job is helping to get people to connect with, care about and ideally support our work in nature, most of the time my version of 'field work' is sitting at a desk in the concrete jungle, 16 floors up, dialing into webex conference calls and looking at powerpoints and white papers.

Last night I attended the premiere for Discovery Channel's amazing new "Frozen Planet" series which gives viewers a rare glimpse into a world they likely will never see, life at the North and South Pole.

Polar bears traveling miles in the frozen Arctic to find a mate (ahem, gives some perspective to 21st century dating life), seeing a forest that contains over a third of all trees on the planet and watching surfing penguins in Antarctica slip away from a hungry seal helped to remind me that the ends of the earth is full of incredible life, and how we're all connected to it.

I left thinking about how challenging filming conditions must have been, and still not able to fully grasp how early explorers discovered these places, traveling by boat or on foot.

"Il faut aller voir - We must go and see for ourselves," said Jacques Cousteau.

We all don't have it in us to be explorers, but their spirit of adventure and trailblazing discoveries continue to light up our lives, fill us with wonder and amazement, and just open up the world past our limited horizons.

Sea World in San Diego brought in two penguins for the premiere, and I am still smitten from my face to face encounter with "Penny" and her shy little friend.

So I'm off to work again, with meetings and budget discussions, but now have penguin cam to keep me connected with the joyful waddle of one of the millions of species who share our planet with us.

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