Daily Thoughts

The Apples of my Eyes

2011-12-19T10:19:00.000-05:00

It seemed like a typical Friday and perhaps it was. What occurs may not be as important as how it is perceived and interpreted and the events that transpired on this occasion are not unique. It was a very dark and rainy morning. I did the typical morning scramble with the kids, breakfast, mismatched socks and I even remembered to pack a restock of Daniel’s diapers for daycare. As always, just when we are about to walk out the door Daniel decides he ‘must’ have an (insert food or beverage here). In this case, it was an apple. I turn a deaf ear towards these types of requests, but my mother hears them and the only time I ever see her hustle is to get to ‘Michaels’ before a coupon expires or fulfill these types of last minute demands before I shut the door behind me. The apple was delivered just before I shut the door behind me. On our way to the car I was carrying Sadie in one arm and holding Daniel's hand in the other. Admittedly I was rushing in order to avoid getting any wetter than necessary. As I slow down to load Sadie in her carseat I see an apple roll down our driveway and into some bushes in the distance. “Oh……great…..that is just so....very...awesome…” I say as Daniel chases it down the driveway screaming aloud. After loading Sadie, I spend about a minute in search of the bastard fruit and return with an apple in one hand and this time Daniel is in the other arm. With everyone loaded I lean back then close my eyes slowly and make a tight grin as I realize that my back and ergo the driver’s seat is now soaked from rain.

It’s a very slow drive. Traffic is backed up everywhere. The mesmerizing back and forth low / high pitch of the windshield wipers echoes throughout the car. Something about traveling in the rain subdues my sense of urgency. I peep in the rear view mirror and see my son chomping away on his runaway apple. I start the music on one of my playlist and over the next several minutes the first few tracks play through until I hear it. That track that I can’t seem to bring myself to delete. My hand makes an involuntary self defensive movement to skip to the next track, but I repress it and order it to grab the steering wheel instead. The track I usually reserve for my long, private and therapeutic weekend runs begins with it's slow haunting crescendo. That slow and haunting melody from an instrumental theme for a certain movie begins to saturate me like a powerful narcotic. I would doubt that Daniel and Sadie observe my behaviors during these three minutes, but if they did they would notice that I tend to stare into the distance, breathe deeply, make very little motion, and rarely if ever respond to or get frustrated with them. I get lost in time and recall a not so distant memory where all the seats in the car were occupied and how much younger I looked and felt. Laughter seemed to be the soundtrack to the movie of our lives and we kept in on repeat. I was the happy go lucky guy that goes off to a distant war happy in the belief that he is doing what is right and less of the person who returns after two tours of duty with a darker outlook on life, tired eyes and a right hand that is kept out of sight when it starts to twitch. I have never seen my heart but I don’t need to see it to know what it looks like. It is very large and beats with a tired rhythm like a drummer well past his prime. Across the front of it is a very large scar. Not a surgical scar, an ugly scar. The kind of scar you see on people who never saw it coming and can never seem to recall what happened. Across this scar is a series of stitches that are so very large and ugly that those on Frankenstein’s forehead would pale in comparison. And, for a brief moment when the high note sustains, it contracts so very tightly and does not release. It squeezes with such pressure that the very spot where the stitches and heart become as one begins to permeate droplets of blood. This slight case of blood loss from internal bleeding can leave me a bit weak, weary and docile for varying amounts of time. Then, with 3 measures of music left, there is a deep and prolonged breath followed a powerful blinking of the eye that clears any obstacles from its path. The next track starts and I ease the tight grip my hands have on the steering wheel that has caused my knuckles to turn white. The passenger seat now contains my gym bag, laptop and a box of pull up diapers. I have a large drink of coffee to compensate for the aforementioned fatigue.

This time when I look into the rear view mirror Daniel is no longer eating the bastard apple, Sadie is. I frantically pull over into the fire station parking lot, put the car in park and reach into the back seat. When I grab the apple Sadie is so upset that she lets out a yell. Only, because she has been more focused on biting than chewing or swallowing it’s less like a yell and more like an apple shotgun fired into my face. “Don’t share apples…. Don’t…… Don’t give Sadie….arghh..” I say to Daniel as I put the car back into drive and resume the commute. Same drill getting out of the car, Sadie is in my left arm, replacement diapers are in my right arm while Daniel holds my right hand. I take Daniel to his room first and this gives me two free hands to finish the drop off process. I walk into Sadie’s room, greet the staff and set her on the floor. As soon as she is set down she starts crying, this happens once or twice a week. “I’ll just put her jacket in her cubbyhole” I say. Normally by the time I do this she is engaged and thus distracted by the staff or other children that she doesn’t see me leave. This time it is different. When I finish packing her cubby hole I turn around and see that she is running across the room towards me. When she is about 5 feet away I go to one knee and she embraces me. What occurred was not a ‘please pick me up’ clinch, but a slow and cautious embrace that was indistinguishable from a genuine hug. The kind of unencumbered hug you give a loved one who has just lost someone dear to them. An embrace that is so pure and natural that the energy flows freely between both parties. And for the second time that day, time had stopped again. I squeezed her so very firmly and closed my eyes. I felt the blood that had been seeping from my internal lacerations begin to clot. The tired beat began to gain tempo and I felt a second wind of energy. It felt like several minutes had passed before I realized that I had lifted her slightly from the ground in the process. When I opened my eyes a few of the staff were looking my way. What they saw was a thirty something, medium build man holding up a 23 pound girl who is 13 months old. They had it completely backwards.

The afternoon at work was atypical until I contacted Daniel’s allergy Dr. to schedule an appointment. I was given the option of a same day appointment provided I could be there within the next two hours. I frantically wrapped up a few emails and drove to the day care. Both Daniel and Sadie had just fallen asleep and I had to wake them and pack their belongings. Over the course of the next 8 hours I would pay a very, very hefty toll for interrupting their sleep cycles and snack rotation. Because of the sensitive nature of the tests at the allergy clinic we were there for over 3 hours. The vast majority of which consisted of Daniel, Sadie and myself in a small room arguing and bickering over what could or couldn’t be touched, climbed or played with. By the time the good Dr. came in to speak with me I was beyond exhaustion. I can only imagine what she was thinking as I rubbed the hair atop my head and fought to keep my eyes open. The entire time she was giving me instructions I was thinking “10 minutes, I just need 10 minutes outside of this room and a cup of coffee and I could totally handle this”. When Sadie went into an unprovoked cry I did briefly mention that all three of us needed a meal and a nap. When I noticed there was and extra nurse in the room I ran to the restroom and while washing my hands I noticed what appeared to be giant chunks of dandruff in my hair. It was the bastard apple and from the taste of it, Granny smith (yes, that’s a joke).

After wrapping up at the Dr’s office I resumed running errands. I had a meager sense of Déjà vu as I was once again stuck in traffic in the dark and the rain. This time I was on the interstate staring at the front of a Semi that was backwards and being hauled by another semi. We spent several minutes paused without movement and I just stared into the hypnotizing flashing headlights of the semi that was facing me from just a few feet away. I briefly pondered that this must be a similar visualization to what some people see in their last moment. A vehicle facing them that is so close that they are only given time for perhaps one last brief thought. I asked myself what I wanted my last thought or emotion to be before I parted. It only took a second. I want to feel synonymous with that which I felt earlier in the day. A moment that was frozen in time and provided me with peace, clarity and the will to move forward. An emotional brick that helped to build a bridge over very troubled waters. Rough, dark and turbulent waters that I pray are someday so distant a memory that I’ll have struggle at length to recall them. And in that fateful moment regardless of whether my children are present physically or only in my memory, I will feel a sweet release that will numb against the sting of death. I will have the peace of mind that comes from knowing that I have left the world a better place with better people (Daniel and Sadie) than myself. I look into the rear view mirror and see my daughter is sound asleep with a frozen smile, as if she had complete faith that everything is good and well and will turn out right in the end. I too smile as I see this and I think to myself “Eff it, next time she can keep the stupid apple”.

A Few Suggestions for Santa & the North Pole Enterprises

2011-12-16T12:47:00.001-05:00

Dearest Santa,

I want to take a moment to let you know that I admire all that you do. Your efforts to make the children of the world ‘happy’ are quite admirable and noteworthy. I have two children of my own and I can only imagine the stress that comes with ensuring that the children with high moral integrity are compensated accordingly. The planning, pace and execution that goes into Christmas day must be such that it would make any internet startup company seem like it was frozen in time. You are the quintessential CEO with your tactical expertise, cheerful disposition and your infectious charisma which is relayed with your guttural proclamations of laughter and can be heard from rooftops worldwide. You harness and groom talent that even Google would envy. This is due in no small part to the admirable corporate culture that is prevalent at your N.P. (North Pole) headquarters as demonstrated by your top executive elves and COO (Rudolph).

It is with sincere admiration that this novice IT statistician / Daddy has made a few observations which I feel could be of some use to you and your N.P. Enterprises branding efforts in the coming years. One note: I will spare you the boring and arduous discussions regarding multiple time zones, houses without chimney’s and mass to ratio equations regarding the size of your gift bag vs the contents therein.

1: Naughty vs Nice: The ambiguity of these terms has only increased in recent years. What was once obvious, E.g. acts of bullying, vs kindness, is now much more intangible and complex. I could provide a dissertation on this topic but suffice to say, if you want to get to the bottom of this equation you need to be more proactive with analysis of children’s text messages, tweets and Facebook postings. This has been the downfall of many an adult lately and it does not seem to be limited to a particular segment, age or occupation. For example, my 3 year old son made the mistake of using his Foursquare app on this iphone to ‘check in’ at Starbucks during a time in which he was supposed to be at day care. That Venti Soy Mocha (no whip due to milk allergy) cost him a timeout.

2: Selection of Gifts: While I personally have an admiration and sense of nostalgia for the classic wooden rocking horse, stick horses and wood train sets, the children today do not share my sentiments. Last year I watched a group of children unwrap these gifts. Immediately afterwards they stared with what I thought was adoration before they determined that there was no ‘On’ switch. They tried and failed to scan a barcode with their smartphones before walking away from the gifts confused, distraught and they never returned to them. The ebay auctions for these items have no reserve and they still don’t sell, even with free shipping. In fact the only time I have seen any of these toys used was a youtube video of a large man who had attached a comb to the stick horse and was using it to scratch his backside while watching re-runs of “Keeping up with the Kardishans”. The statistics below were obtained from randomly sampled ‘letters to Santa’ from children worldwide and display the demands (sometimes request) for traditional wood toys vs gaming systems. Please note that request for ‘snow’ no longer even constitute charts which is surprising given all the recent talks of global warming. Perhaps you should bundle a certain DVD by a certain ex vice president with the gifts given to a control group vs a placebo group and we can test for correlation in the coming years.

3: Carbon Footprint: That last line brings me to my next point. It is common knowledge that in recent years you have made efforts to filter Google as well as certain incoming media and communications from the N.P. Headquarters. I don’t feel that most people perceive you as a Castro or Kim Jong-il. After all, had the elves formalized that union they were working on it could have very well led to costly pensions, extended holiday vacations and possibly (I shudder the thought), a Christmas strike. In other words it could have caused the N.P. to resemble the American auto industry. It was rumored that something similar happened in 1971 (the year after OSHA was enacted) but was averted via your quick and effective tactical decisions, e.g. Hiring the abominable snowman as a production and quality manager, removing the maple syrup taps from the elves break room and making a humiliating example of the lead rebel elf with nothing more than a candy cane and some lube (Yes, Maple Syrup).

It would however, behoove you and your affiliates to reconsider the impact your actions take on the environment. As mentioned earlier, wooden toys just aren’t that popular anymore and trees in America are becoming the proverbial sacred cow, which is to say they are quite revered. Also because of the import taxes on lumber, (The conditions in the N.P. are not conducive to tree growth), the creation of such toys has grown substantially both in terms of monetary and ethical expenditures. Suffice to say that it would be in the best interest of the N.P. public relations team to embrace a strategy involving toys made from a sustainable source, preferable one that is C2C (cradle to cradle) certified, or better yet switch to alternative toys or a new gifting strategy. Here are a few examples to get your team moving. When parents like me liquidate their 401k to buy their child a 60 inch plasma tv so they can watch SpongeBob at a larger than life size, you could skip the wooden train and chip in for a 3rd party extended warranty. Everyone wins in this equation. Trees are happy because they survive. My kids are happy because the warranty ensures their uninterrupted viewing. The garbage man has a few less of your ‘gifts’ to load into his truck the next morning. The elves are happy because they will no longer be laboring over dangerous woodworking saws into the wee hours and they can focus on white collar roles such as efforts to negotiate volume based discounts with warranty providers instead of staring into an empty scotch glass held by two fingers a stump and a nub. I’m also quite sure this would reduce the cost of the N.P. medical coverage plans. I shouldn’t even have to explain why putting actual coal in a naughty persons stocking is a bad idea. Obvious green thinking aside, it would be far more effective if you simply installed a virus or adware pop-up program on their computer. As an IT guy, I have had individuals offer me money, pets, drugs and even certain acts if I would simply “get that spam crap off my puter and get-er runnin again”. If they have been especially bad go straight for the gut and consider ‘defriending’ them on facebook as you did so eloquently with that bastard Bernard Madoff (my understanding is that you lost a substantial portion of the elves pension fund in that Ponzi scheme….. my condolences).

4: Your Image: Like it or not, your image is posted everywhere during the holiday season. Children and adults worldwide look up to you and your…..’larger than life’ image. However, in recent years obesity has passed smoking as the leading preventable cause of death and I feel your image should accommodate this statistic. During your recent appearance on “The View” you were demonstrating various chimney maneuvers and positions during which several of your stretch marks were exposed. Please consider wearing clothes that are a bit more conducive to your build (E.g. The Big and Tall Store). The president’s wife has declared ‘war’ on childhood obesity and it’s worth factoring into your P.R. strategy. We really appreciate the fact that you no longer smoke a pipe (this is ironic as the president admits he is a regular smoker), in any of your images, E.g. Rockwell's painting titled "Santa At His Desk" from 1935, but now it’s time to up the ante with some slight changes to your BMI. Just a suggestion, ease up on your partnership with regular Coca Cola and consider beverages with less or alternative sweetener’s. Right now, being associated with High fructose Corn syrup is not very P.C. so perhaps a partnership with Snapple or 4 hour energy would be of some benefit.

Also consider the health and P.R. benefits of competing on “The Biggest Loser”. While I do not enjoy the show because it seems like 20 minutes of footage stretched, dramatized and slo-moed into 90 minutes of imaginary crisis, many other people watch it and extol the virtues of the top contenders even after the season is over. If you can’t commit that much time it is understandable. Consider a cameo appearance on an alternative show, but avoid shows like “Wipeout”, as well as reality shows that follow you around all day long as both of these types of programing have the same effect of making you appear to be a less than exemplary imbecile.

It is worth noting that as depicted in miscellaneous women’s clothing boutiques, Ms. Clause’s image has improved dramatically in recent years from that of an elderly ‘Aunt Bee’ type to a girl next door…..or perhaps a girls-gone-wild who happens to live next door. With the recent rise in the popularity of ‘cougars’ (women who ‘date’ men whom they are 10+ years senior to), such as Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher, it would seem that adherence towards this suggestion would benefit you on multiple fronts. Granted that you and your wife have not aged in the last several hundred years, but consider the fact that some of these elves probably have the height, build and sharp features of a Tom Cruise and well…. During the holidays you just aren’t that accessible.

5: Manage Your Staff in the Offseason: Everyone knows that elves work very hard, but they also have a premonition to party even harder. The lethal combination of Red Bull, Whisky and Facebook has proven to be very costly for your team. All I’m saying is that while they do require lightning fast communication during the winter, consider removing access during the offseason or at least incorporate a breathalyzer test into the computer log in process. As far as phones, just remove the data plans after December 25’th every year and spare us the ‘sexting’ and after party pics that have caused many people (myself included) to have disturbing dreams and fantasies.

I feel that if you and your N.P. team incorporate just a few of these basic concepts you will be able to modernize the ‘Santa’ image whilst improving company moral and lowering cost. Of course, you will get pushback from some of your team members, but I’m not so naïve as to think you don’t have a time tested history of ‘motivating’ obstinate co-workers.

Your dear friend and ardent supporter

Daniel

Volun-Tear-ing at the Roadkill Run

2011-12-11T01:16:00.001-05:00

Volun-Tear-ing at the Roadkill Run

Recently I was given an opportunity to volunteer for a local race. I checked my schedule and confirmed that I was in fact free on that Saturday morning to participate. One thing that caught my attention was that the email indicated that the volunteers would run the race earlier in the day before coordinating tasks and duties for the other racers. I thought, I get to do a 10 mile race with the gang then help some other racers….sounds awesome… count me in. I had helped with other races with tasks such as 'stuffing race packets', but this was my first time working on the course on race day.

The ‘early’ race started at 6:00 am and was about 30 minutes from my house. I spent some time on the night prior setting out all my running gear and even went so far as to pre-make my pre-race ritual breakfast of Almond butter on a whole wheat bagels with a touch of honey. Depending on my timeline I also have a small protein shake and a few bites of banana. My alarm went off at 5:00 am and I sat up for a minute. For reasons that are still not clear to me I hit the snooze button. This was foolish. I blinked and it was 10 after 5 and I was off. Clothes…check, running jacket, check, headlamp, check. I sprinted to the fridge, grabbed my pre-made breakfast and I was off. Flying through the backroads in the dark while eating my breakfast I forgot how peanut butter and almond butter basically turn into a plunger in your throat and at the next red light I scoured my seats for a drink of some sort. This is the kind of thing I would see my 3 year old some do repeatedly and think to myself, “Haven’t you learned to expect this?”. Clearly heredity carries pro’s and con’s.

It was going to be close but I pulled into the parking lot a minute before 6:00 and literally put my gloves and headlamp on while I was catching up with the crew who had just started their run. “Thanks for joining the Roadkill Run Daniel” someone said to me. I jogged along just relieved that I had made it in time. I had never even heard of this race before and I surely didn’t have any idea where we were going. During the first half mile I pondered what the police report might have said when they found my corpse in a car in a ditch. Officer 1: “You see, it wasn’t the impact that killed him, he had apparently stuffed an entire bagel topped with peanut butter down his throat while driving”. Officer 2: “Ahhhh…….. What an ignorant bastard”. Officer 1: “We see this kind of thing all the time, people should have learned this lesson from Mama Cass so many years ago but no, no…..it happens all the time and now this feller is California dreamin on such a winters day”. Officer 1: “………..Ya……Stupid bastard”.

My daydream was interrupted when the group stopped. There was an opossum carcass that appeared to be about a week old. The closest runner wearing running cloves grabbed it by the tail and gave it a few tugs till it’s frozen carcass broke free of the road. With a few swings the opossum flew into a ditch, landed with a thud and immediately we resumed running. I think the first thing that went through my mind was “Ohhh…. That’s why they call it a ‘roadkill run’, it’s not just some clever marketing metaphor”. The second thing that I thought was “that was pretty fregin gross”. About a mile later, same drill except this one was well over a week old and I couldn’t really make out what parts were what as it was stretched and two dimensional. I was not alone in my surprise that it actually stayed in one piece as it was peeled up. It had two major sections conjoined by a mysterious smaller section (perhaps its spine, guts or maybe it was well endowed). Perhaps because of its hourglass remains it even seemed to make a thud followed by a second thud a millisecond later when it found it’s assumedly final resting place in someone’s ditch. I thought to myself, “I have to get the next one, don’t avoid it… embrace it”.

There were a few memorable moments on the run. Most notably running towards a small church on a hill as the full moon sat, what appeared to be, just a few feet above it. At the 5 mile mark, most of the runners got in a vehicle and went back to the race start. Four of us decided to run the remaining 5 miles. We picked up the pace from moderate to slightly aggressive and within a few minutes the slower runner dropped back. The three of us continued to chat about various topics wives (or lack thereof), work, training routines, races in the last year and races in the next year. All the while I kept looking for the next dead animal. I saw a few dead birds, but they were in the grass by the road which I did not feel would impede a runner. Fortunately we didn’t see any more dead animals (at least on the side of the road that the runners would use) and my proverbial road kill removal virginity would remain intact for today.

I was watching day break when I became aware of how good it felt outside. It was quite cold, but the heat generated from running offset that. My shirt was a bit wet but moisture wicking and my shoes had a mesh material which allowed them the air to pass right through them and keep my feet cool when running on warmer days. As we rounded the top of a hill and began our decent, the two runners picked up the pace from slightly aggressive to very aggressive. I stayed back for about a minute thinking that there was no way they could hold this pace until the finish. When I caught up with the runner who was closer to me I asked how much further it was to the finish. “Two miles” he panted. I began to take larger strides and really push my limits and within another minute I had dropped the slower runner and began to gain on the remaining one. The runner in front of me had mentioned that he was 56, but I really wasn’t sure of how good he was because I had never met him before this morning. With about a mile to go I felt my foot start sticking to the shoe and I already knew what had happened. I ignored it and continued to pick up speed. I did not have my watch on but I would guess we ran the last two miles at about a 6:15 pace. I stayed about 30 to 50 feet behind him until he raised his arms to mimic a finish line then leaned over and braced his hands on his knees for support. We shook hands, patted each other on the back and went inside to get our volunteer gear.

Once inside a quick look at my foot revealed that it had been bleeding. The toe area of my sock was red and wet. This just happens to me sometimes, usually when I am trail running. I put it away and picked up my walkie talkie, orange vest and mile marker signs labeled 2 and 8. I was official. We watched the racers start and immediately started our stopwatches, jumped in a car and drove quickly to mile 2 where I got out of the car, setup my sign, positioned myself on the side of the road and waited patiently. It took about 30 seconds before it hit me. The wind was blowing very hard, I was in a shady area near some woods and I was wearing a flimsy running jacket. I felt an involuntary chill run through me when I realized, I was about to freeze my a$$ off.

The first runner came through and was holding a 5:30 pace. “11:01” I yelled as he passed me. I watched his graceful stride. It looked so very effortless. His feet nearly hitting his butt as he floated like a gazelle alongside the road. Even with efforts made to improve my form, my running is less graceful and elegant and moreso shifty, stompy and extremely unsexy. As he disappeared into the distance I thought to myself “ya, I would have his babies”. About a minute later the second runner came through with form that was very similar. After a few more minutes groups of people began to pass. “15:20….. 15:25…….15:30!” I yelled as they passed. Occasionally I would recognize someone and I would yell something like “I’m so proud of you, you are doing great, keep up the good work!”. At this point I was visibly trembling and marching in place. The last runner came through and I yelled 32:45.

That’s when I started doing the math in my head…let’s see…she’s holding about 16 minute pace and I'm at mile marker 8 so 16 x 8 …is ……….bat$hit crazy!… Oh crap… I am going to have to be here for 96 more minutes before the car comes to pick me up. I began pacing, trying to warm up. My allies had become my enemies. The shirt that was moist was now wet and combined with the wind, was making my body temperature drop. The shoes that had helped me in the summer heat were channeling air over my numb feet. My body began to get more and more stiff every minute. Over the next 15 minutes I began shaking harder and harder until I was flexing so hard I thought I was going to cramp.

The first place runner appeared and he had managed to hold a 5:40 pace as he rounded mile 8. I looked down to my stopwatch and tried to yell his time. It came out really choppy and I realized my face was numb. Several minutes later some of the other good runners began to appear. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn’t read the stopwatch anymore. I retracted my fingers into the palm of my running gloves and made two fist and tried to hold the stopwatch. While I was repositioning the same thought continued to occur to me throughout the morning, that a digital timeclock could do my job a lot better than I could. I’m guessing it wasn’t in the budget. I tried to recall the last time I had been this cold. It was a toss up between the last time I volunteered to work a shift for the Salvation army last winter and the time my camping partner forgot to pack blankets and I learned how the band "3 dog night" got their name. Hint: My dogs slept on top of me that night and have never forgiven me. Since then if I ever utter the word "Camping" they walk up to me, hike their leg and piss on my shoe. I once complained aloud that it was 'A bit drafty' while sitting in the kitchen and they slowly got atop my kitchen table and took turns taking a dump in my cup of coffee then marched off. I'm thinking they are holding a grudge of some sort.

My numb nose ran constantly and my once pristine running jacket looked like it had been stored in a cage full of snails. The effects of the cold began to impede my mannerisms and speech ability. Because of my newfound impediments I resembled a special needs person afflicted with both turrets syndrome and Parkinson’s disease. This time when my friends ran by I tried to say, “I’m so proud of you, you are doing great, keep up the good work!” but it came out as “I’m so roudy, you’re a grape, keep up the anal warts!”. This was met with suspicious looks. I’m pretty sure I heard a few runners tell their kids to “Just ignore him….don’t stare, that’s what they want”.

I had been standing in the cold for over 70 minutes when I saw a woman jogging by herself between packs of runners. I attempted to yell out her time and she must have noticed how I was shivering. When I looked up she was walking towards me. In my memory she was very pretty, but that’s most likely biased based on what transpired. When she got about a foot away from me she took off her gloves pulled out her two hand warmers and placed them in my palm. She said “this should help” and resumed running. I felt like a homeless person who had just been given enough money for the bus ride back to salvation. In the same spirit I’m pretty sure I murmured “God Bless you” as she ran away. Somehow this inspired me to toughen up and press on. It would be another 60 minutes before the last runner appeared. “One hour….thirty –two minutes…. Good job” I said as she passed. The car showed up a few minutes later. It was the 56 year old runner who had edged me out this morning. It was so very warm in his car. I immediately noticed that the air vents were not aimed optimally and adjusted accordingly. During the drive back he mentioned that about a month ago he had ran a marathon in my town (7 Bridges Marathon) and had finished in 3:25. In case you don’t know, that is spectacular, more than enough for someone in his age group to qualify for the coveted Boston marathon.

I entered the award ceremony in a desperate search for food. The runners had left a few crumbs and that’s understandable. I returned my volunteer equipment and drove home. During the drive home I ‘carefully and cautiously’ ate a trail mix bar. When I got home I cooked an egg, 2 pieces of chicken sausage and a leftover piece of salmon, they were delightful. I turned the heat up in my room and took what felt to be the most amazing hot shower in my life. I crawled into bed and pleasantly awoke two hours later to “Adagio in G Minor” playing from my classical playlist. The chill was gone and I was warm both in body and in spirit. My mood was reflected by my smile as I stared at the ceiling and got lost in my thoughts. I recalled visuals from the day including the church with the moon, the strange figure 8 opossum, the bloody sock, the back of that runner that I couldn’t seem to pass, the stride of the first place runner and the multiple mirages of the last place runner keeping me from going to my home….my warm and comforting home. I realized just how blessed I was. I thought about the less fortunate people who are still waiting to meet someone like the blonde runner who interrupts her own life, gives a gift of sacrifice and wishes them well on their bus ride towards salvation that carries them home…. their warm and comforting home.

Let's Get Physical(s)

2011-12-08T11:00:00.015-05:00

I could not resist starting this entry with an Olivia Newton John reference (hey, it beats the image that comes to my mind when I think about getting a physical). Ok so I got my first physical this morning. It went something like this. Wake up the kids an hour early. Daniel and Sadie started crying when I gave them to their day care teacher and I had to explain to them that this was the same teacher they had every day, just without makeup and coffee. They hesitantly agreed to go with them. I kept telling myself "Don't eat" and it was remarkable how I kept reaching for food. I keep food fregin everywhere. On my bedside is a container of marcona almonds... I put them back in the jar. In my car console are protein bars and a can of nuts. Twice I reached for them and put them back. My son had the nerve to eat his toast in front of me (well I saw him in the rear view mirror). I explained to him that this toast had gone bad just before I snagged it from him and threw it out my window at 85mph on the interstate. That kid has just got to learn to quit flaunting his posessions in front of daddy. "See son, that's why your sister doesn't have any more pacifiers".

I actually thought I would walk in and see the doctor (a friend of mine). hah....hah...hah...

I filled out four pages of paperwork and sat for 45 minutes in an elderly ladies lap (she was asleep and seats were limited). On the two occasions that she woke up I explained to her that I was her nephew and papaw would return with firewood soon. It must have worked because she asked me to hold her teeth before she went back to sleep.

I wait....wait...then wait some more and decided to take a quick bathroom break. When I go to return to "mamaw's" lap my name is called. I fill out more paperwork, answer more questions and am told I can move to the next stage. I go to the doctors office. "Sir" the nurse says... "You need to go wait in 'that' line first. I look down the hall to see two men, one is dead and his carcass is half eaten from vultures. The other is laying down and they are circling over his head. Once I got my name called, this nurse handed me a cup. I pretty much told her immediately that she shouldn't waste her time waiting on me...I'm empty. "Maam, I just went and I haven't eaten or drank anything in over 13 hours" I said. I handed her back the cup immediately and I noticed my name was written on it. On some occasions this might have caused me to feel special, "Mr. Lucas, here is your premium lager with a note to you from our brewer". Mr lucas, here is your soy mocha with no whip and dark chocolate. Now that I think about it if a lady brought me a beer / cocktail with her phone number on it I would be very impressed. So the cup would not 'runneth over' today, but I was however able to let them get their blood samples. I also agreed to stop by later if I felt the 'need'. After which I walked to the water fountain and guzzled no less than 8 full cups of water as fast as could.

I finally made it to the Dr's office. I Sat in the chair, arms behind my head and basked in the glory of it. After 15 minutes I heard them talking about me outside. A nurse came in "Mr. Lucas?", "Yes" I replied. "Apparently they don't have your urine sample and that's whats keeping us from proceeding" she said. I just sighed.... Then marched back to Nurse Ratched (thats a reference to the movie "One Flew over the Cucoou's nest"), and asked for my personalized cup. After 20 minutes of.........nothing... she knocked and informed me that we could just move on without it. A few moments later I handed her the still unused cup and strolled into the Dr's office yet again.

As I sat there waiting I noticed I was irritable. I began to ponder this. I am not an irritable person, in fact I am rarely in a bad mood and there's usually a darn good reason for it. I thought about the lines.....I can handle lines....I thought about the needle in my arm....no, that didn't bother me in the least. Was I upset about the empty cup....maybe a bit. Then I realized, Im starving. My stomach began to make growls shortly after I came to this conclusion. My Dr. friend entered and began going through the numbers on my bloodwork. "Dude, you are an A+" he said. I liked that.....I liked that a lot. I work very hard on my diet and excercise to ensure optimum health. This was cool, this was awesome, this was the best part of my morning. Maybe it was the fact that I had finally seen the Dr., maybe it was the fact that I wasn't staring down at an empty cup right now, maybe it was the low blood sugar, maybe it was the flattery he gave me, I'm not sure, but I had no issue with dropping my pants and (edit)... while he (edit)... and I told him, that this was the first time a guy had been allowed to (edit) ....well at least the first time with my consent.......well at least without buying me a drink first. Piece of advice, if an old guy shows up to your family reunion, gives you a drink and claims to by your second uncle....don't consume the drink.

The good Dr. and I traded training stories (running, biking, etc...), his were much better than mine, and we caught up. Ahh.... this was a good way to end an otherwise dreary morning. I had survived, the Physical was over, and I got to spend some time talking with a really cool Dr. As he was finishing his testing and giving me feedback I thought to myself, "Please hurry up and finish........I'm about to bust"

PS: Breakfast / Early Lunch was so very incredible. I've made 4 trips in the last hour and I'm pretty sure that 6 of those 8 cups have been recycled.

Negotiations 081 : Lessons from a Toddler

2011-12-05T12:40:00.004-05:00

Last night I was laying ...lying... in bed with Daniel and trying to coax him into sleep. When I think about how much time it takes me to put him to bed I am dumbfounded. So I decided to break down the process into steps.

The pattern goes something like this.

I tell him it's time to go to bed and he runs in the opposite direction like a hunted deer (takes 2 to 3 minutes to catch him). This chase typically ends with the old 'I'm chasing you, then I do the double back' where he comes around the corner only to learn he is heading toward me. Think deer in the headlights look, but with an instant tear.
2 to 3 min

I tell him to say goodnight to my dad (peepaw) : this typically commences with a plea for one more cartoon. The drama he infuses is superb. My dad is so weak and gullible that he doesn't take my side on the vast majority of occasions

2 to 3 min if weeknight... 30 to 60 min if its a weekend

I lie in bed with him as he plees for assistance from any local passer by's. This is probably the most annoying part of the process.

5 to 10 minutes

Sing one or two songs. I prefer the beatles, he prefers that I stop and interrupts me every 10 seconds.

5 to 7 minutes
This is where the negotiations begins. He is no longer in panic and screaming mode and like the proverbial Dr Jekyl and Mr Hyde he changes personalities to suit the situation.

I think his logic is something along the lines of "Ok I can see you aren't going to respond to this method so let's try another"

Him: "Daddy"
Me :"yes Son:
Him: "I need water"
Me: "No you don't"
Repeat this 3 times

Just when I start to think, he may actually be thirsty... maybe I should fill his sippie cup. He makes a very fatal error.

Him: "Daddy"
Me: "Yes Son"
Him: "I need a flashlight"

Once he started changing topics I know he is just trying to adapt and negotiate. He's learning quick. If only he knew that he was one or two more questions from getting the water, he could have bought a few more minutes before bedtime (which apparently is worth a lot to him).

This tactic is often followed by his favorite "go-to" move that often gets him out on parole.

Him: "Daddy"
Me: "Yes"
Him: "I gotta go peepee"
Me:......um....hmmm... No.
Him: "Daddy"
Me: " Yes... yes son... how can I be of service to you on this fine evening?"
Him: "I gotta go poo poo"
Me:...argh...( I usually have to contemplate an advanced algorithm which goes something like this: [(amount of food consumed) / Fiber content (e.g. Beans)] - (Hours since last BM - 6) : If value is greater than or = 0 then theres a 67% chance he will crap his diaper at some point during the night. If memory serves me correct, he usually has this kind of ironic smirk when I get there in the morning to see him lying comfortably in his own defecation and the soon to be trashed / burned blankets. The smirk says "I'm so dreadfully sorry father, I warned you but you neglected me. I tried to hold it as long as I could...please forgive me".

Me:...answer is 3.4..... OK, but you better not be bluffing, let's go.

I can see the look of victory in his eyes. He cheerfully strolls to the restroom. His instantaneous good mood is incredulous. Reminds me of the time I showed up for jury duty only to find out the case had been settled out of court. The air seemed so crisp and fresh when I walked out of the courthouse (by the way, the case was supposed to last a week).

4 minutes if I call his bluff... at least 25 minutes If he raises and I fold...

Note to self, next time jury selection is down to me and 1 other person... suck it up and crap my pants. Act like nothing happened even after the fact. Then express surprise and dissapointment when I wasn't selected.

Second note to self.... don't wear my nice pants on that day.

Black Friday

2011-11-25T16:33:00.002-05:00

Maybe its the fact that I no longer live in my own place and don't have room for my current possessions
Maybe it's the fact that I have two children.
Maybe its the fact (well if they are both in day care), I no longer possess much of what economist call 'discretionary income' because of the kids.
Maybe it's the fact that I am no longer married and thus no longer feel the overwhelming urge to spoil my spouse.
Maybe its the fact that I am mid thirties and just don't care enough to save a few bucks
Maybe its the fact that when I do the math I'm not saving money by spending 4 hours to save 100 bucks.

It could very well be a combination of all the above. But in any case, I can't seem to motivate myself to take advantage of Black Friday sales. Perhaps I am going through a natural evolution where the true meaning of Christmas has finally clicked and I'm sick and tired of every other conversation after thanksgiving revolving or alluding to who is getting what gift and where we can find it on sale. I breathed a sigh of relief when my nieces agreed to do a white elephant (or Dirty Santa) gift exchange instead of the traditional or even name drawing approach. I feel blessed that no one called me a grinch, rather they agreed immediately that this was best for everyone. One exception that is implied is that mom and dad still need to get everyone a gift. After all, they are older, less broke and …well, you can't take it with you right?

I'm quite certain I will be the recipient of similar expectations when I am in their role. One way to break that cycle is when my kids are on christmas break from college or on parole, I will buy them a gift that will be so bad that they will be the ones saying, really dad….you shouldn't. "It's an all inclusive hotel, drinks, meals even massages are included!" I will shout aloud. "The whole family is coming and we are driving there …together… as a family… in the un- air conditioned mini van I bought from Chicko for a grand (ok keep in mind that this is 16 years from now and with inflation thats like 400 bucks today). Son: "Dad, that dude was a pimp and we have found 4 used syringes, and even more condoms as well as a loaded handgun. And that was on the two occasions we agreed to ride to church with you". Me: "alleged pimp and that gun saved my life when I killed your two cats that were infested with rabies and cooties. It had to be done I mean.. I'm pretty sure they were acting like old yeller and.. well I didn't feel right asking you to do it so I took it upon myself" Son: "They were sleeping next to me in my bed". Me: "Ya, its best that way, no wasted ammo although… in hindsight…. maybe I should have woke you up first". Daughter: "Dad, it's Christmas, and this hotel is in a district outside of Detroit. Do you really think this is a good idea?". Me: "Well Scrooge Mc Grinch…your boyfriend didn't seem to object when I mailed him a flight ticket and told him how important it was that you meet us there. His flight should be taking off now so we will need to get moving so he doesn't have to wait more than one day at the airport. Also, in an effort for us to learn more about the local culture I have arranged tours of abandoned car factories which will have slight breaks that involve a time share pitch for condemned condos".

Ohh to see the smiles on their faces the following year when I say, "Instead of doing gifts, we could all just all go out to eat. I'm thinking somewhere special..maybe Applebees. I just sold some plasma".

The Road to Recovery (Overcoming Setbacks)

2009-12-07T09:28:00.002-05:00

The Road to Recovery
(Overcoming Setbacks)

I began running after being peer pressured into a 5k. After one humiliating practice run I honored my word and completed the race the next week. I continued to practice with my two friends and over the next few weeks I began to make progress. Within a month I was capable of competing with the faster of my two running partners. I continued to run not because I enjoyed it, but because I had set a goal of completing a triathlon in the near future. Over the next few months I would complete three triathlons. The last triathlon was the distance of the first two combined and truly pushed me to my physical limit. Around this time something changed. I would schedule a run then anxiously await that time throughout the day. I would look forward to it, thinking about my pace and how hard I would be push myself. I noticed that I no longer ran because I was training for an event, I was running because I enjoyed it.

This must be what it’s like when the casual smoker begins the denial based logic of why each day manages to produce a situation that practically requires the utilization of a cigarette. For a while you buy a pack at a time telling yourself that “I’m in control”. After a while it becomes logical to buy a carton instead of a pack and from there it’s anybody’s guess as to how much you smoke a day and whether or not you ever truly kick the habit. I’ve always feared and respected cigarettes. My family has a long history of unsuccessfully trying to quit them. For example, my dad started smoking after having quit for over twenty years. Six months later he was a chain smoker. My brother managed to quit smoking by dipping and years later he admitted to me that quitting dipping was a great deal harder than quitting cigarettes. I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I have had the good sense to avoid cigarettes and addictions in general. Now that I’m a dad I feel that I have to set and live an example for my wife and son. In a world full of temptation and instant gratification, finding fulfillment in running is about as good of a habit as I could ever hope to develop.
After agreeing to complete a half marathon I decided to see what would happen if I went a little slower and doubled my distance instead of my normal routine of running 3 miles as fast as I could. To my surprise, it wasn’t bad as all. Within two weeks, I added a few more miles and still managed to complete the run without stopping and with relatively little difficulty. I recall that only a few months ago I was talking with my friends and expressing my bewilderment as to why anyone would ever want to run more than a couple of miles. I suppose it’s only natural that I would eat my words as just a few months ago I was just as disinterested with running in general. I had read a book called “UltraMarathon Man” where Dean Karnases finds that by continually pushing his physical limits he has managed surprise himself and others while managing to enjoy the whole process. It was after reading this book that I began to ask myself “Did I really give 100% or did I quit running because I had simply reached the finish line”? I feel that all too often our biggest limitations are ourselves. It has become more apparent to me as of lately because upon hearing about an event or a practice run, so many friends and relatives say “I could never do that”. They are of course correct. As long as you truly believe that you can’t do something you are most likely correct. I have a tendency to cringe slightly when I hear the words “I can’t” or “I could never…”

Kicking out the Ladder

Knowing that my self imposed boundaries were most likely my biggest limitation, I have become more open to breaking barriers and pushing myself. I saw a presentation at work a few months ago. The Honda company uses a mindset referred to as “kicking out the ladder”. You set an ambitious goal that requires that you climb a ladder. Once you are halfway up the ladder they set fire to it (yes, this is metaphorical), which forces you to climb faster while eliminating the idea of withdrawal. Alexander the Great as well as many other conquerors would sail to a destination that they intended to conquer and once they had arrived they set fire to their boats. Sun Tzu, who wrote “The Art of War”, stated that when you have placed your army strategically and give them no way to retreat, each man will fight as 10. There is a great deal of truth to this. Remember when you were in college (or perhaps vocational school) and you were asked to complete an overwhelming task, e.g. a single spaced 20 page thesis. Knowing that you have to complete this project or fail the class often caused you to overcome significant hurdles to accomplish the task. When you were done you breathed a sigh of relief and proudly thought to yourself, “I did this”. Perhaps you didn’t stay in the class and you dropped out. Most likely you thought to yourself afterwards, “Had I consistently applied myself, I would have most likely succeeded”.
A few months ago, I mentioned an idea to Lindsay that involved me riding my bike to work (18 miles of hills and mountains) in an effort to improve my cycling endurance. She was not too happy about this because I would be biking in the dark and we know how people drive at 6 am on their way to work. For the time being I put it to rest. About a month later my jogging distance had reached the 10 mile barrier and I began to wonder how long it would be before I could attempt to run to work. My best guess was that if I continued to make progress, it would be about a month.

Navy Seal Run

With the triathlon season over, I was looking for something to do in the offseason. A friend of mine came across a webpage with details regarding a race through the mountains that claimed to be as difficult as the courses used to train the Navy seals. It was designed and administered by a Navy Seal which, I suppose, makes it more authentic. The comments from past participants compared the challenge to that of running a marathon. The Navy seal run took place in the Smoky Mountains in November. After a terrible drive through 3 hours of rain, we arrived 4 minutes after the scheduled start time, but Lindsay let us leap from the running vehicle. We managed to get a race number and hit the port o potty while they were going over the rules. My friend and I were the last two people in the race line and as soon as we got in the line the race started. I was still attaching my race number to my shirt when the crowd started moving. By the time Lindsay had parked the car we were 100 yards into the trail. It was by far, the most punishing run I have ever competed in. The first hill was the steepest and longest hill I had ever climbed, at least in any type of hurry. It was so steep that I could fall forward and catch myself with a pushup-like position, then push myself back up into a running position. I knew that my biggest weakness was swimming (as opposed to biking and running) and with the exception of running through a few muddy ponds that were hip deep, there was no swimming required in this race. The race was very mental. If you followed someone through the woods, your body would try to tell you that the pace you were trailing behind someone was as fast as you can go. Often times there were teams of 4 and 5 military personnel traveling in a team. I would trail them for a minute and then I would say to myself, “Let me see if I can pass them and if I can’t hold the lead, I’ll get back behind them”. With few exceptions, I could take the lead until I got behind someone else at which point I would repeat the exercise. Because the trail was so narrow and I had started at the very back of the bunch it was difficult to gauge how I was doing. Unlike one of my prior races, upon finishing I felt that I had really pushed myself to the limit. There was pain, but it was good pain, heavy breathing, side stitch craps and tired legs that still felt that they were still moving were a few of the byproducts. I finished in 55 minutes. Because it was cold and wet, everyone who finished the race looked as though their body was emitting steam. Two days later I would receive an email notifying me that I had won my age division. I don’t really aim to win anything I compete in; after all I’m not in my twenties. In all things I do I always try to be competitive and I typically have a goal set for myself. People have told me that they really don’t wish to compete in a hobby unless they can win. My dad once told me that he doesn’t see why people would train for a marathon knowing that they will not win. Initially I saw his point, but I have come to realize that this is a convenient mindset. It’s convenient in the sense that one avoids a challenge without a clear victory. I would ask of you, what successes in life come via instant gratification? Anything worth having did not come without struggle. After giving this some thought I told myself that “If you feel that you must be the best there is to win, you will most likely never succeed. If you try to be the best you can be, you will most likely always succeed”. This does not mean you should be content with your limitations. It does not mean that you should not challenge yourself, but simply be aware that there is most likely always someone out there who is better in a given field.

The Setback

After the race my legs were quite sore for the next day or two and I think I did a leg workout about 4 days after the race. That Thursday evening I went running with Lindsay and something was wrong. When my left foot left the ground I would immediately feel a sharp pain on the inner side of my knee cap. I had felt pain while running before, but this was different. I stopped and walked for a minute and the pain magnified to a throbbing sensation. I tried to go back into a run, but after 100 yards I had to stop again. I repeated this sequence about 4 times and for the first time I can remember Lindsay passed me and I couldn’t keep up. At this point, just walking fast was very painful and the rest of the evening involved me moving slowly around the house with a stiff leg. If my leg did not move for a few minutes it would become stiff causing me to groan whenever I was moving from one place to another. In the weeks leading up to this I had reached a point where I was beginning to believe that I was redefining my boundaries and now just the act of getting a glass of water was a chore. I felt as though my body had betrayed me or vice versa. I suddenly recalled all the friends and family who had said that since they had been injured they had not exercised. “I used to be active, but then I got hurt and I haven’t tried since”. After briefly attempting to run again the following weekend I stopped and looked for an alternative. The good news is that I could still use the bike and elliptical. I did so for the next week and completely avoided running. After a week of rest I attempted to do a 8 mile run with Lindsay. It was awful and while I did finish, the run went terrible and I was in agony for several hours afterward. One silver lining, this was the first time we had ever gone for a run together and stayed together the entire time. It was at this time that I began to wonder how I would cope if the injury was permanent. Driving to work I would see the runners jogging. I would watch them stride as I experienced a cross between self pity and envy.

I decided to repeate the week of rest and added running laps in the pool to my regimen. The pool exercises really allowed me to focus on strengthening my stride without the suffering the effects of the impact. Internet research had indicated that it was actually the tendon behind my knee that was messed up and not my knee itself. I had suspected this based on the symptoms, but it was good to learn. I believe it’s called ‘runners knee’ or something simple like that. I had a 5k coming up and I was wondering if I would be running or walking the race. About 3 days before the race I ran my dogs 2 miles with relatively minor discomfort. This was encouraging. On the day of the race, I determined that if things started to go south I wouldn’t fight back. Thus far enduring the pain had only magnified the issue and I really wanted to get over this hurdle.

The Race

Not since my first 5k about 5 months ago had the idea of running 3.2miles seemed so overwhelming. I was not as intimidated as much as I was curious as to what would happen. Imagine a race car driver who doesn’t know how much tread is on their tires. The race was relatively small, maybe 100 or so participants. I got behind one of the lead runners and maintained his pace. He was running fairly aggressively and it was challenging to keep up. Around the start of the second mile I felt me knee, but it wasn’t bad, just a slight throbbing. I continued to run aggressively and finished fifth overall. I felt great. I had pushed myself and the pain was hardly noticeable. I checked my finish time and was happy to learn that I had finished in just under 22 minutes (a 7:05 minute per mile pace). Since I started, my goal time for a 5k has been 21 minutes and my best time recorded was about 25 minutes (although I had pushed a stroller in that race). Not only had I managed to remain active through my injury, it appeared as though the change in training had actually helped me.

Setbacks are simply an unforeseen opportunity to rise to new heights. Once you get reach the destination, it’s that much more rewarding. Since the race I have slowly increased the distance on my runs. I plan to continue to do so over the next month and perhaps somewhere around New Years Day, I will leave the house around 5 am and meet Lindsay at the gym (down the street from the office). Similar to making a commitment that requires me to leave my comfort zone, once I start I know that there will only be one way out; finishing. I cannot speak for what motivates others, but I can tell you that I intend to spend my lifetime trying to better myself, accepting challenges that will require me to be better than I am and assisting others to do the same. In essence I am setting goals for myself that require that I sink or swim, succeed or fail trying, climbing the ladder just far enough to be able to push it out of reach.

Applying My Workplace Skills to My Personal Life

2009-09-15T19:12:00.005-04:00

I published the following story for an article at work. I tried to make it entertaining enough for the blog, but that's not easy when your job is basically statistical analysis. Please let me know what you think of the story.

Being a Lean Six Sigma Belt comes with challenges that occur in and out of the workplace. In the office I am somewhat stereotyped as being a process and quality guru. There is truth to this and if the shoe were on the other foot, I would most likely think the same thing. As any musician can attest, once you learn an instrument, it becomes very difficult to abstain from analyzing the parts of songs that utilize that instrument. For example, once you learn how to decipher the bass line in a song, you always notice the bass line. It’s not all that different than knowing how to utilize Lean Six Sigma (LSS). While some will see a process that has its own set of unique set of strengths, challenges and limitations, I see waste, inefficiencies and an opportunity for improvement. In a nutshell, I see potential.
It’s bad enough that I have to explain to family and friends on a regular basis that I don’t actually know Karate. I typically introduce myself with alternative job titles such as Process improvement manager, business consultant, team facilitator or lawyer (when I’m in a hurry). Lean teaches us to do things quicker with less waste while Six Sigma teaches us the art of optimization. Like the trained ear, sooner or later I noticed that I began to ponder applications for LSS outside of the workplace.

Stepping Up & Falling Down / Defining the Baseline

I have a tendency to put myself in positions where I will have to perform in order to keep my heard above water, in this case it’s quite literal. About a month ago Josh Killion talked me into signing up for a small triathlon in Chattanooga. I took it as a sign that the event was scheduled to occur on the day of my 32’nd birthday, what better way to celebrate getting older than trying a new challenge. I had no bike and I hadn’t swum in years, but I had plenty of time to address those issues (about three weeks). I began emailing friends asking about buying or borrowing a cheap bike. With little hesitation, I went to the local pool to begin training. My logic was that I would swim ¼ mile (the distance in the race) the first week, then just focus on perfecting my stroke over the next 2 weeks. I made it about 100 feet before I began swallowing pool water. After 10 minutes of swimming with frequent breaks, I was gasping for air and coughing between strokes. I knew things were bad when one of the kids threw me their Dora the Explorer arm floaties. I thought about throwing them back at them, but they had landed in the deep end of the pool and I just couldn’t risk it. I spent the rest of the day exhausted and extremely hydrated. I also learned why swimmers wear goggles. My eyes were so irritated from the chlorine that I had to squint the rest of the afternoon.

Bill Collier was kind enough to lend me his extra bike. I had never ridden a road bike and in fact I couldn’t honestly remember the last time I actually road a bike. I recall the Huffy that my mom had purchased me from a local yard sale many years ago. It had 1 gear, lots of rust and weighed as much as a baby elephant. I wore no helmet (no one did back then) and I was always in search of items that could be used as ramps, the neighbors ditch, the concrete driveway, my brother, etc. I had no issues getting started on the road bike. I thought it was odd that road bikes have no kickstand, but whatever. I have no idea what I was so nervous about; that is until I went downhill. Perhaps it’s the fact that my body is much older and more fragile than it used to be, perhaps it’s the knowledge of knowing what happens when body collides with concrete at 30 mph, either way I was terrified. I recall going down the hill and as the sound of air became deafening I thought, when I was on my sister’s 10 speed, you never hit the front brakes first because it could cause you to flip. Biker shorts have padding to make the long rides more bearable, wearing a pair on this particular afternoon would have helped to conceal just how terrifying the experience was.
The week before the race, we did a run-through. At my best, I could not swim ¼ mile without stopping 2 or 3 times. I did manage to become more comfortable with the bike. As far as running I had started practicing after the Bill Gregory Health classic that took place a few months ago so I knew this was the one area that my time would be somewhat predictable. The complication of guessing what my time would be was amplified by the fact that doing activities sequentially significantly impacted performance, e.g. wear yourself out in swimming and you can’t bike very fast. I may be able to bike 9 miles in 27 minutes, but how long would this take after I had been fished out of the water and briefly resuscitated?

Analyzing My Weakness / Optimizing the Process
We all want to think that things will play out like a movie script, something miraculous will happen on the day we are challenged and that our lack of planning will be triumphed by adrenaline and good fortune. There’s a phrase in boxing that states “Champions are not made in the ring, that’s just where it becomes apparent. It’s the training that takes place in the weeks and months prior to the event that truly determines what will happen”. My goal was the same as Josh Killon’s, to finish the race in less than one hour. With about a week to go before the event, I began to ponder what form of training would make the biggest impact on my time. It was at this point I asked myself, what if I were to estimate the fastest time that I feel I could achieve, “Minimum”. In other words, everything goes perfect; Ideal weather, my energy level is non-stop, the river current practically pulls me along, I manage to throw up without stopping, etc… Then I estimate what my time would be if those types of things didn’t go my way “Maximum”. Odds are, my actual performance will be somewhere between these two estimates.

It became apparent that of the three activities, the one with the most variation is swimming. This made swimming the greatest potential impact on overall time and thus the equivalent of the “low hanging fruit” that we identify during Kaizen events. Low hanging fruit basically stands for the ideas that represent the most bang for our buck. LSS had taught me that reducing variation was key to having a more predictable (and in this case, successful) outcome. With only one week left to train before the event, I focused my efforts on swimming. Like a Kaizen, I analyzed my swimming process. In this case the process involved my breathing, stoke speed and form. Probably the best advice I got was from a friend who was a proficient swimmer. He stated that I should “swim at my pace and no one else’s”. What he meant was that I should relax, take my time and swim at a rate I was comfortable with. From what I had read online, race day jitters cause people to panic in the water and interferes with their breathing. If you are tense, swimming will not go well.

Race Day / Control Charting the New Process

On the night prior to the race I didn’t sleep much, in fact when the alarm went off at 4:30 it was more of a relief than a burden (this is not typical). I had learned that big meals should not be consumed within 12 hours of the event. I went with a soft meal; protein shake, yogurt, granola and coffee. I had packed my bike and goggles the prior evening and overall I felt surprisingly calm during the morning of the event.
After standing outside the lake for almost two hours, we were given told to get in the water and wait for the horn. Myself and 53 other men in my age group anxiously awaited the signal. I wished Josh luck and hoped that my goggles would actually work today. The horn sounded and the next 90 seconds involved me trying to swim and getting hit from every angle. My goggles were kicked and started falling off. I tried to fix them and someone’s hand hit me when they were mid stroke. It was pandemonium. I continued with my game plan, breathing slowly and swimming steadily. I looked up to see how I was doing. Within two minutes, I was in last place. Yes, out of 54 people in my group I was in last. This was depressing, but I quickly decided that I had already committed to a strategy and it would do more harm than good to deviate at this point.
After about 5 minutes I was rounding the midpoint (a boat out on the lake). It was then that I began seeing signs that other people were overexerting themselves. Finally I passed someone who was struggling, then the guy next to me asked a judge if he would be disqualified if he held onto the boat for a while. When I couldn’t breathe, I simply switched strokes. By the time I was done I had done every stroke I knew including the backstroke. When I was getting out of the lake, I felt like I had been swimming for a very long time. I was quite shocked to see that it was only 10 and a half minutes. That was not great or terrible. Actually, I was so grateful to be out of the water that my grin of self esteem was only interrupted briefly by belching lake water. I was in 36’th place in the swimming portion of the event. That meant that somehow, someway, 16 people had finished behind me.
The bike ride was pretty clear cut. I’m grateful for the weather we had that day. It was a bit overcast, but mostly cool and breezy. In order to optimize my transition time (remember that it was 80%), on the day prior to the race I had visited the area I was supposed to park my bike. I visualized how I would get in and out of the parking garage quickly in an effort to minimize uncertainty (variation). Everything went as planned and as I came out of the parking garage I saw my wife waiving and filming me. I had come in 34’th place in the biking portion of the race. 40 minutes had elapsed since the starting horn had sounded. This meant I only had to run two 10 minute miles to achieve my goal. I mentioned that the big variable in this race is the fatigue of doing the events sequentially. The other factor is adrenaline. Josh and I would go running together in the weeks prior and discuss how the event could play out and the one factor that is hard to plan for is, “How much of a factor will race day adrenaline be?” My advice is to plan your strategy without factoring for it and if you have that extra energy count it as a bonus.
As soon as I began running I felt as though I had strapped a one gallon milk jug to each of my legs. I continued running and ignored the lactic acid pains. A few days after the race I watched the video of me running the first ¼ mile and I couldn’t believe how fast I was running. In my memory, the pain had caused me to be very slow, but in reality (as the video indicated) it was all mental. After the first ¼ mile I came to a large 90 degree hill. I made it up the hill and there were two ladies handing out small cups of water to the runners. I was winded from the hill and as I chugged the small cup of water I gasped aloud. The water had gone down the wrong pipe causing water came out my mouth, nose and maybe a bit through eyes. It was so bad that I actually stopped to cough for a few seconds. I don’t think it could have been any worse if I were punched in the stomach. I went back into my run and shortly thereafter I began to find my second wind. On the way back I saw one of the water ladies pointing at me and as I got closer she asked “Do you want to try it again”. “No thanks” I replied. I didn’t want to add any more risks to the equation. In Lean Six Sigma, we would refer to this as “Eliminating Unknown sources of Variation”. During my training I had never tried drinking water while winded and this was not the time to start (again).
When I saw the finish line I ran harder and just a few feet prior to crossing I began to slow my sprint. Just as I did, a guy cut in front of me and finished. Deep inside I was hoping he was in a different age group; he wasn’t. His time was 56:18 and mine was 56:19. Not coincidentally, running was the area I performed best (I came in 18’th place for the running portion of the race). Recall that it was the area that I had the smallest area of predictable variation (22%). Because I had practiced running the most, I knew when I was running too fast and I knew when to stop holding back (well within 1 second anyway). I think that knowing when to let the adrenaline take control is an important factor. Overall I came in 24’th place which was better than the average for my division and both Josh and myself had achieved our goal of finishing in less than an hour.
Training is important, but training without strategy is not an optimal use of time. I used some basic statistical tools to help me make the most of a short training period. This allowed me to design a training routine with a high ROI. In this case, the return was a better finish time and the investment was training time (blood, sweat and tears). I would encourage you to impose new challenges on yourself. This goal was focused on fitness, but as long as you are setting goals that challenge you to such an extent that it requires you to identify and implement a better way of accomplishing your goals you are succeeding. Don’t wait for someone else to initiate a challenge, demand more from yourself to see how you adapt to new challenges that require you to go beyond your level of comfort and in turn optimize your daily processes.

Virtual Trust: Why the Internet Marketplace is What You Make of It

2009-07-18T15:24:00.002-04:00

Functional Fear: Why the Internet Marketplace is What You Make of It

It’s chocolate rain all over again

The internet is often feared by many people. It’s intricate working and complex networks are the modern equivalent of Frankenstein’s fundamentals. Depending on which version of the movie you watch, the townspeople chase down Frankie who flees the city of individuals who fear change. Frankien ends up in Hollywood where he has a breakthrough single targeted towards the townspeople called “Relax”. No one in the eighties was smart enough to figure out that Frankie’s incapacitated brain limited him to one or two orderly sentences. It’s chocolate rain all over again. I recall being in my senior semester of college and the elderly teacher explained that she was afraid that “the internet” could hack her bank account if she bought anything with a credit card. This would not have been an abnormal occurrence for someone her age had it not been for the fact that she was the professor for the Management of Information Systems class. This was pretty much the equivalent of a chemistry professor teaching that all things were made of three elements, earth, water or fire (this was the belief in ancient times) or a math professor stating that “once you understand the numbers….that’s when they start to control you…….man”. This story is not about my professor.
Fear is something that paralyses its host. Whenever I feel fear, I try to analyze the underlying cause. My dad enjoys relaying one of the philosophies he learned from what remains to be one of the few fiction books he’s read (it was required reading for a class). In the book Beowolf, the underlying theme involves facing fear and confronting the cause (the beast represents fear). As a means of self analysis I once wrote a short story about why I was afraid of flying while I was on a flight. Since then, flying hasn’t bothered me. I mention this because many times there is a rational basis to irrational behavior; after all even schizophrenic people have valid points from time to time.
Anyone who knows me will probably agree that for the most part I am a very honest person, often to a fault. I both admire and distain individuals who are capable of controlling their verbiage such that they reveal their intention or lack thereof with such ambiguity that their opinion is often a reflection of other parties biases. This story does not pertain to them.

Virtual Trust

In my never ending quest to save a buck I frequent craigslist which is the virtual equivalent of an online flee market, pawn shop or yard sale. On a few occasions, craigslist has made headlines when a murderer or kidnapper used it to lure victims. What the news networks often neglect to say is that it really isn’t different than the classifieds in a newspaper. If someone post an ad in the newspaper that they are selling red shoes but upon inspection the buyer determines them to be blue is it the paper’s fault? The paper, or in this case, craigslist is simply a medium that projects intention. This story pertains to those individuals.
Often these individuals set snares with bait that tends to include high priced items at unrealistically discounted prices. This includes vehicles or electronic items such as plasma televisions. Regardless of the item it doesn’t really matter. Once you show interest in such items the story / email chain is pretty much the same.
Buyer: I see you have a 2006 Toyota Avalon for $4300, is it still available?
Internet scammer: Yes, is mentioned it’s in mint condition as you see the pictures, but must buy soon.
Buyer: Oh I see, well, when can I see the car?
Internet scammer: Car is in mint condition, no defects whatsoever. Dealership has serviced for many years.
Buyer: OK, well where will we meet?
Internet scammer: As I am in the military and oversees the car must be shipped. I want a transaction that is safe for both you and me so let’s confirm the deal with ebay motors and you can send me the money via western union.
OK, the last part varies from “I am a missionary abroad” to “the car was my late mothers”. The point is that they attempt to appeal to your heart and wallet simultaneously while bypassing your brain. This is a trick that is very difficult and takes years of practice. One example is the campaign (legitimate) that used the logic of “for less than a cup of coffee you can feed a hungry child”. That tagline was often the logic that appealed to and received the consent of the brain. Once that’s achieved, the heart and wallet follow.
My dad is a professional shopper. He does not buy anything, he just spends his free time checking prices, looking for the best bargain then he thinks about buying the item, thinks some more, then decides to buy it. “I sold a car two months ago, are you sure have the right number” the seller’s will commonly say to him. Ironically while I was working on this article he began conversations with a seller regarding a car on Ebay. After the auction the seller contacted him and asked if he was still interested in buying the car. It was a last year’s Acura and it was some hot model, the kind that holds its resale value. Son, have a look at this car, the guy’s only asking eight grand and the blue book value is eighteen five. I quickly browsed over the email response and the clues are written all over it. After about five seconds I say “Dad, it’s a scam”. Undefeated, he is browsing ebay for bargains again within the hour.

Case Study #1

A few weeks ago we decided that Lindsay needed a bigger vehicle. Her car was sporty and small and while it was big enough to hold luggage for a weekend getaway (those were easy before having a child), between the stroller, car seat, diaperbag, and my laptop, I would go weeks without fully extending my legs in the car. We drove to Atlanta one afternoon to look at a few vehicles that she was interested in. One vehicle model we had been looking forward to driving was the Saturn Vue. We had found two that were priced right and I called ahead of time (it’s 2+ hours to Atlanta) to schedule a test drive. We had cash in hand and we were ready to buy. The first person had told me to call him once I got near Atlanta and he would give me directions. I did so many times and left several messages, he has yet to return my calls. This was frustrating in that we had set aside our Saturday afternoon and drove two hours only to be stood up. Fortunately I had the good sense to schedule another test drive. When the Blue Saturn Vue pulled up we were instantly disappointed. The windshield was cracked from top to bottom in two places. There were dents all over the vehicle such that it looked like it had flipped at some point and the engine was very loud. I won’t get into the details, but at one point we were in the vehicle talking loudly to the owner to compensate for how loud an engine belt had become.
Alas, we had a ray of sunshine. The owner of a very affordable Pontiac Vibe in Chattanooga had contacted us and agreed to meet us in a few hours. We left Atlanta and drove to Chattanooga. I even called him when we were a few minutes away to ensure he would meet me at the PF Changs restaurant parking lot (he chose the location). We waited for over an hour in the parking lot. After several calls I received a text message stating that he had wrecked and totaled the car. We felt terrible. What he didn’t know was that we had every intention of buying the vehicle. We had the cash in hand and had determined that based on the last few vehicles we had seen, this was going to be the one we were going to buy. I told my friends at work the next day about how the guy had totaled his vehicle and they were like “oh man that sucks”. I even considered sending the guy a gift card for the inconvenience. A few days later I did a search and saw that the car had been listed again by the same seller. I emailed him from a different email address asking if the car had any history of wrecks. He promptly replied that it had never been wrecked and it was in mint condition. Part of me was angry for having been lied to, part of me was glad that the deal had not worked out. After all, if he’s that dishonest, there’s no telling what kind of condition the vehicle was truly in. I considered emailing the guy and telling him that I would pay asking price if he would meet me in Cartersville (60+ miles from where he lived) and then just standing him up. After an hour I could text him and say that I totaled my car on the way to see him. I could even use the same line he did “The cars a goner, but I’m ok. Nothing that won’t heal”. I decided to let it go, but it was a harsh reminder that integrity should not be assumed.

Case Study #2

While writing this story I was put to the test. I decided to sell our 2001 Lexus IS 300 on craigslist late on a Sunday evening. I always put the extra effort into getting the photos to look right and display very large. Within a few hours of the next morning I had a few offers for the car, most of them were at least $1000 less than the listing price, which was more than I was willing to bend on the first day. The car was listed at $7850 and due to high mileage, a few minor scratches and a cd player that currently houses 6 of my cd’s but won’t play them, I hoped to walk away from the deal with anything more than $6800. I did an analysis of all the 2001 IS300’s listed and came up with the averages and ensured that my price was below that average. I was very forthcoming about the issues with the car and included them in the description.
On Monday morning I received a call offering me $7500 for the car. I responded that it was a fair price and we agreed that we had a deal. The buyer, we’ll call him Lee, said that he needed a few days to get the cash, but that he had totaled his girlfriends car and the insurance company was issuing him a check. Lee asked if I would mind holding the car for him for a few days and I agreed to remove the listing. After all, Craigslist is free and I could just relist the car if the deal did not work out. Apparently it takes about 3 hours for a new listing to be removed from the site and so for the next 4 hours I received a plethora of calls. Some were straightforward “Do you still have the car” and some were very strange.
Caller: Sup……da car, Chu sellin a car?
Me: Yes, I am, but I have an offer on it. If you would like I can take down your information and contact you if the buyer changes his mind.
Caller: (30 seconds of awkward silence) What kind of car is it?
Me: It’s a Lexus IS300
Caller: How much you wantin for it?
This goes on for several minutes, all of which my thumb twitches to press the “end call” button on my phone.
Initially Lindsay was happy with me for having sold the car for far more than we had expected, but within a few hours she began questioning the decision to remove the posting. “We are trusting this guy to give us the money and we don’t even know him. You should not have removed the listing until you had the money” she said. That evening Lee contacted me asking for the VIN to run a carfax report. I felt the tension about the deal build over the next day. About a day after agreeing on a price, Lee called me and stated that after some thought he could only offer me $7000 for the car. While he was telling me all his personal reasons for his new price limit, I can honestly say that I was more concerned with what Lindsay’s response would be more than I was about the $500 loss. “No Lee, that won’t work” I say firmly. He then proceeds to tell me that he’ll do what he can to pay the initial offer. The next day he asked if I could prove the timing belt had been changed and that it was about $1000 to have that done at a dealership. It looked as though he had found a loophole in our price agreement. I spent over an hour going through records and calling dealerships trying to find a record. My mechanic does not keep records so if he had replaced the timing belt I did not have the record, but he did give me a quote of $275 to replace the belt. This was good news as I determined that I could offer a small discount for not having proof of the timing belt without losing my profit margin.
So Lee was still waiting on his insurance check and I had determined that I would take $250 off our initial price agreement which would still be a profitable venture (I had not told this to Lee yet). I told him that I didn’t mind waiting a few extra days for the money so long as he kept me in the loop by calling daily to let me know everything was still on track. One lesson I had learned from waiting tables was that if a customer(s) was waiting on a meal I would give them updates every few minutes such that they knew where to set their expectations as to when the meal would arrive. The waiter next to me would have the same delay but would choose to avoid the table saying things like “Checking on them won’t help the food come quicker” or “I really don’t want to show up to their table without food because they have been waiting a while”. This mindset and approach would only add to the tension. Managing expectations via communication was key to maintaining customer satisfaction. Lee would call me every day. Each day the conversations became more brief, “It’s me, I’m just checking in. The insurance company is mailing the check today”. “Awesome, great, thanks for checking in” I would say.
A few days later Lee called me to say that he had the check in hand and would be meeting me the next day. I told him about the fact that I would offer a moderate discount due to the fact that I did not have proof of a timing belt change and after some thought he responded “you were patient with me, you showed me trust, the least I can do is pay the price we agreed on.” And there it was, the moment of enlightenment where I had proof that integrity was still present in our society.

Conclusion

In the Bible, God tells Lot that he will not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if he can find just one righteous person. In the end, he couldn’t find any righteous people in the city and his wife was turned into the world’s largest condiment. I think if I were challenged to find a few people with true integrity on the internet, it may take a few tries and a few searches with Google, but I feel confident they are there. I am reminded of my visit to Ronald Reagan’s memorial where I saw a quote by him that read
“I know in my heart that man is good. That what is right will always eventually triumph. And there's purpose and worth to each and every life.”

I do not propose that all people are honest, have integrity or even good intentions. And while the internet may magnify the qualities of society, the sources of these qualities are still based on real people. I remind myself of Jack who spent his last few dollars on magic beans. Naïve, honest and hopeful, I often wonder if my actions will reap a beanstalk or kudzu. Either way, I feel that the worst chances are those never taken and the most wasteful form of trust is that which is never bestowed.

Goal Update

2009-06-05T22:07:00.002-04:00

OK This is when I should be posting the tracks. In an effort to help sell our house I am moving my office to a new room (that is waiting to be painted). I should have something uploaded shortly.

Adjusting Focus

2009-04-15T15:51:00.002-04:00

Adjusting Focus

When I have Time
Perhaps it’s the fact that I am now a father, perhaps it’s the fact that I’m now thirty-something, either way I am questioning my impact and purpose on a more frequent basis. As we become adults, it becomes more convenient to avoid self analysis because we are so busy. I often hear young and not so young adults comment that “When I have more time, I will be able to…..”. Fill in the blank with something you have not made time for, getting a degree, getting in shape, going to church, spending time with your parents, etc. It tends to be something that is meaningful but not prioritized. We all have situations, and yes, sometimes there are temporary issues that really do prevent us from adding more to our proverbial plate. But I ask you, in general, do you really believe that as you grow older you will have less obligations? More importantly, would you consider yourself successful if that meant having fewer responsibilities?

I recall being 19 years old and living at my parent’s house. I had had no summer classes and I was burnt out at work. I knew that there would never be a time in my life that I would be so free of obligations. I was living at home, had money in the bank and no debt whatsoever. Imagine my Applebees manager’s face when I told him that I needed a leave of absence. “What, …..Why? he asked. I promptly replied that I had worked since I was old enough to push a lawnmower and I was tired of covering the shifts and tables of every server who just didn’t feel like they could handle the stress of the job. He knew what I was talking about. Every month or so a server was hired who just couldn’t hack it. I would watch as the customers would sit at their tables and they would start looking around for their server. It was one of two things, the new person could not enter the orders quickly enough and would get tied up, or they simply got stressed and needed a smoke break. A few minutes later, they (the server or the customer) would approach me and ask for help. This redundant and exhausting behavior never seemed to be a screening factor during hiring practices. If the individual was both female and good looking, they could remain employed indefinitely. I once had to train a server who was clearly a drug addict and displayed withdrawal symptoms after an hour or so of his first shift. While he was taking a drink order I asked the manager, who was a friend of mine, why this man was hired. He stated that he interviewed three people the previous day and that he didn’t feel that hiring two of the three applicants was right so he hired all three. I watched as the 90 pound man as he struggled to hold two drinks at a time. His shaking caused the Coke to spill on the floor. After he delivered the drinks he ran to the pay phone and claimed his ride had to pick him up early so he was only able to work two hours of his first shift. It was no surprise that he never came back. Eventually I took the leave of absence, but servers hounded me asking for me to pick up their shifts because they knew I was available. I worked one to two shifts a week and after my one month of semi-absence I had more money than when I left. As far as the break, I was bored stiff. After a few weeks of $1 movies and renting the entire foreign section at the “Tan and Rent” shop, I felt like I was wasting my time (I was) and resumed regular shifts.

Optimism May not Be Your Ally

In our current economy, few of us have not imagined what it would be like to be unemployed. Most of us know someone who has, as a result of the economy, been victim to downsizing and I can assure that their lack of obligations did not cause them to be irrationally exuberant. I once read that every person should lose a job when they are young just so they realize that it really isn’t the end of the world. In a time where many are clinging tightly to what they currently have, perhaps we should be giving more thought to how we would be doing things differently if we had nothing to lose. Our passions drive us, but people tend to prefer security over optimization (I’m certainly guilty of this). In other words, knowing that they are making enough money to live a middle class lifestyle is more important than pursuing the very thing that drives them. It seems that whatever our secret talent is, we often battle with ourselves as to why it would be in our best interest to suppress such passions. This has been referred to as “The War on Art”.
There’s a song by Mark Knopfler called “Back to Tupelo” which alludes to the contrast between the young Elvis and the old Elvis. In it there’s a line that says, “When you’re young and beautiful you’re dreams are all ideal. Later on it’s not the same Lord everything is real”. To me this paints the picture of young idealism meeting, or rather clashing with reality. I was absolutely certain that I was going to be a professional ball player when I grew up. I practiced hard, played well, but the coach preferred his son (as most coaches do) and my parents preferred small schools that had little to no sports program with the exception of basketball which sucks because it’s the devil’s game. By the time I was out of high school, I knew I would never play pro baseball. My dreams had met reality and I accepted my fate. In this particular case, the odds were rather poor that I would have, at best, held my own in a farm league.

There is a stark contrast between optimism and true determination with discipline. To think that I could drive to a tryout session right now and perform to the caliber of minor league players is unrealistic. However, this is where determination comes in. I could practice daily, with a clear strategy and timeline as to how I would attain the necessary requirements to perform at a minor league tryout. For example, I could set a one year goal to throw an 85 mph fastball within 4 inches of a target on at least 80% of my attempts. Obviously checkpoints would tell the story of how I was doing and if the goal was worthwhile. If at 6 months I was throwing at a maximum speed of 65 mph, but my curve ball worked, I could alter the goal a bit. If it’s just not working, I’m better off admitting it and moving on. My brother is in LA trying to be a movie actor, but has no experience. He also cares nothing for theater which is much easier to get started in or volunteer for. I tend to encourage him to create and document a strategy with milestones, commit to it, and make it happen. He feels that I am removing creativity and chance from the equation. It’s not that he doesn’t have the talent or won’t get a part in a movie; it’s just that, in my opinion, it’s highly….highly unlikely to happen without a plan. Believe me when I say that LA has a high supply of good looking people who are willing to give up their day jobs for a bit part in any movie.

What Are You Waiting For?

On his deathbed DaVinci’s biggest regret was all the things he started and never finished. One of the greatest geniuses and most accomplished men of all time regretted his unfinished challenges. The moral here is that we should strive for closure on our challenges. On the flipside, Einstein became consumed with a math problem that would prove God existed and he spent the last 10 years of his life going in circles and refusing to move on. Given that we recognize and agree that time is irreversible, non transferable and cannot be inventoried, how should that affect our outlook? You know your time is limited, so what is your plan? One of my Daniel-isms that Lindsay hears every week or so is “No one has time for anything worthwhile, you have to make time for what’s important”.
If you are like most people you will read this (or a section of this) before browsing the web for the latest fad, deal or celebrity gossip. I challenge you to do otherwise. I would challenge you to identify something that you have always wanted to do, but find yourself constantly making excuses (rational or not) for not having done. I will be the commit to you (the reader) if you will commit to me (the writer). Amongst my “Someday When” list are many items that are currently scheduled for me to accomplish after my retirement party in 23 years (2032). One of those unaccomplished goals was to record 5 original songs. I tend to play around with this goal before moving on to other things. My life is more hectic now than it has ever been, but provided someone makes a commitment to me, I will commit something to them. I will commit to a detailed strategy and hold myself accountable to execute it as such:
1. Record 5 original tracks over the next 6 months with the first being due two months from now.
2. I will upload the songs to this blog for you to hear (I make no commitment regarding inherent quality).
3. My first track is due June 1’st and my last is due October 1’st.
4. No track will be less than 60 seconds (that’s cheating)

Email me your goal(s) and I will publish it on this blog. Be specific and include milestones, sometimes a reward works well too. For example, don’t say “I want to lose 50 pounds over the next year”, that’s vague and ambiguous. If I fall short I will admit it, after all, failure happens. Let’s hold each other accountable to accomplish something we can be proud of, just be sure the end is worth the means to get there.

Road Trips

2009-02-02T11:47:00.004-05:00

Road Trips

Here I Sit
I am sharing the backseat of our compact car with me son who hogs the middle section of the seat. On the left side of the carseat are jackets, diapers, a baby bjorn (a backpack that sits on your stomach to hold the baby) and my laptop bag. Why would I ride in the back where it’s so tight my left arm is cramping? Because this is a two hour trip and Daniel II has a set of lungs that could make an opera singer blush. Needless to say, it’s easier to gag him from this position. When you don’t have a baby you think to yourself “Why is it that they (the couple with the baby) are always late? When you have a baby you think “Do they (the couple’s without any children) have any fargin idea how much work we just went through to be here? Trying to be punctual with a fussy child is about as successful as Snipe hunting. Your good intentions and planning are no match for the variation induced by napping, diapers, hunger and spit-up. Still, the planning helps.

Looking Back

I recall lots of road trips from my childhood. We were way to poor / cheap for planes; something that has yet change for my dad who uses the cost of gas as his only determinant of whether to fly or drive. With a pencil and napkin in hand he yells “Ha, see that son, I’ll save $43 bucks by driving for 15 hours”. I call this geezernomics because it is only logical to someone who has no value for their time and comfort which is in fact old geezers and the occasional college student. “Yes, dad it’s 43 bucks cheeper, but I’ll end up exhausted and losing 2 days of my vacation and that’s assuming there are no car problems and what about wear and tear on the vehicle, etc…” Dad: “Ahwww… quit-chur whining”. As with many issues, my dad refuses to update his logic, rather he prefers to do what I’ll refer to as ‘comfort calculations’ (simple, but essentially close minded valuations).
As a child there were certain road trip rules which were never verbalized, but we learned them quickly. The first rule was ‘Don’t drink too much’. My parents never bought us soda, but mom drank diet cokes and during road trips we had access to the cooler. We would sneak a Diet Coke and feel like an adult as we sipped the acrid saccharin pseudo sweetness. Even if we didn’t drink a diet coke, it was easy to get carried away drinking because there was no AC in the back of the car. Wait, car, weren’t there 6 of you? Yes, there were 6 of us and for a few years our trips were in an 83 Honda Accord which meant that at any given moment, someone was doing lap duty. It’s a wonder we didn’t pull each other’s hair out, although both my brother and I ended up with a handful when both of us refused to release our grip. When you’re both bluffing, neither of you are bluffing. To be fair, the follicle folly happened in the minivan that we would get a few years later. On the occasion that you drank too much and had the urge to pee, you would suppress it until cramping began to occur. At this point you would go to mom (Dad wasn’t known for his empathy) and say “Are we pulling over soon?” Picture the hopeful eyes of a child that is about to sit in the mall Santa’s lap. To which she would quickly reply “Tell the pee to go fly a kite”. This is one of the many phrases that my mom would recite that had no rhyme or reason. Another one of her ‘momisms’ was recited every time we asked what was for dinner. She would say “snales, whales and puppy dog tales”. It’s hard to respond to this type of logic / statement, but we would say something logical like “I have to pee so bad my stomach hurts”. If we pressed hard enough, we were handed a cup from the last drive through restaurant. Yes, we would sit in the back and pee in the cup. After we were done we would hand it to dad and he would roll down the window and ‘recycle’ the waste. On one occasion my uncle was following too close and had to turn on his window wipers. My brother (who had made the deposit) was horrified.

There was a strategy that I developed early on. I noticed that when mom wanted to stop, we would stop. All I had to do was make sure that I didn’t drink more than mom and I would most likely avoid any cramping. This was a small victory in the battle of road trips.
Another lesson, sit directly behind Dad. As we laughed, argued, fought and went into silence marathons the cycle would take its toll on dad’s nerves. My dad could be on the interstate passing a Mack at 90 mph, suddenly snap and reach into the backseat and find my ear. A chemical is released in the body when your ear is pulled hard and it’s the same thing that causes nightmares and child birth pains. If I was sitting directly behind dad, the most he could do was pinch my leg and even at that it was often the tough skin on the knee; I consider this to be another small victory. Other things to consider include, packing a deck of cards (usually UNO), lots of gum, batteries for the game boy, etc.

We would eventually upgrade to a Chrysler minivan. This was a huge improvement. We literally had a space to play in the back area. We didn’t worry about seatbelts back then, we just wondered about the vehicle, treating the first row of seats as a hurdle we would dive over. There was 1 square foot near the middle of the van that over the course of the trip would get really hot (can we say safety defect). We would lay a blanket over the area and occasionally sleep on it. If it was cold outside you had a nice spot that was the equivalent of an electric blanket on HI. If it was hot outside and you felt asleep near it you would wake in a pool of sweat. By far the worst thing about having a minivan was that my mom no longer considered yard sales and other shopping ventures off limits. We would accumulate tons of stuff (junk) during our visits such that the ride home would consist of being stuck in a series of awkward positions. This almost always resulted with a crick in your neck. I recall one trip where my mom purchased clothes, a large trunk and a large picture made out of plastic. Not only was the back area full, but the picture was resting atop our seats such that we could not raise our heads above the back support without hitting it. We spent the trip jealously staring at her asleep in the front seat with her signature pillow. Such was the impression that if my mom so much as mentioned going to a yard sale we would erupt in cries of despair. “My children are such exaggerators” she would tell our confused aunts.

Retribution

While growing up there are many occasions where you feel as though putting your parents through the same thing you went through will cause you to feel vindicated. In my case, I was driving the same route (we had driven over the years) with my dad, my brother and his girlfriend. My dad decided to help himself to a six pack. “This is too perfect”, I thought to myself, “I won’t even have to make an effort”. By his third beer I began smiling, but only in my mind. My dad casually said “Son, when you get a chance let’s pull over”. “Oh sure, ya” I said. It was hard to fight the grin. The term Schadenfreude is a German word that means ‘a feeling of guilty pleasure from others misfortune’. I was feeling quite Schadenfreude. I was slowly extracting my revenge with each mile marker we passed. Needless to say as I continued to drive past the exits he began reminding me with increased frequency that he needed a break. “Hey son, there’s a burger King in 3 miles, let’s pull in there OK?” he said somewhat nervously. “Ohh right, you got it” I said. I even pulled into the right hand lane before passing the clearly marked exit. As I passed it he let out a small “Woe, hey you missed….” then he grabbed his side. This was the moment where I began to get drunk with power. This feeling may have been due to an imbalance from the chemicals released over years of ear and hair yanking, not to mention the slight blood poisoning from my overstretched bladder.
“Son, we have got to pull over I really have to go!” he said. “It must have slipped by me, I wasn’t paying attention” I said. “Tell me when the next exit is approaching so I will know”. He did just that, patiently plotting the course with statements like “Two more miles, let’s go ahead and get in the right lane”. It’s a strange feeling on your nerves when you are plotting against your parents. It like when you nervously lie so they won’t suspect the surprise party that awaits them inside the house, only more evil. In this case I was teaching my dad a lesson. So what’s the lesson? Hell I don’t know, but I would assume that my dad had a lesson in mind when he made me go through it. Besides, I am merely acting out the second half of the golden rule. There, in the distance was the exit. The goal, salvation and sanctuary that would allow my father to eliminate the sting he was feeling was only a few hundred yards away. He did his part well. He gave me advance notice as we approached and even checked for cars saying “IT’s all clear, let’s pull over”. I appeased him by nodding my head and yet again getting in the right hand lane. As I passed the exit I thought he would figure it out. Instead he seemed confused and even asked me “hey, what’s the deal?” In Shakespeare’s Hamlet he states that “There are daggers in the men’s smiles”. In my case, I had a full arsenal. I responded slowly with vengeance in my voice, “How many times have you done this to me dad?”, I said slowly. He still appeared confused until I said “Why don’t you tell the pee to go fly a kite?”. He didn’t respond, but rather huffed and crossed his arms. It was at this point that my brother’s girlfriend began yelling that she had to go pee and that my brother should make me pull over so she could go to the bathroom. This was the girl that I had argued to my parents just prior to the trip was “too good for my brother”. For this and a few incidents that occurred on this vacation, only days later I would confront my brother and tell him that if he had any guts he would dump her before she unpacked her bags. She had ruined my revenge. Like John McLain in the Die Hard movies, this menace had ruined what took me years of patience to execute.

Looking Forward

My wife tells me that when they took road trips they were always long because whenever they wanted to stop her dad would pull over at the nearest exit. Now when I plan road trips I make an effort to ensure that we stop every few hours. A restaurant in this town, a shopping center in the other and the occasional Starbucks in between. I try to ensure that both the trip and the destination are enjoyable. This has served me well and I hope to do the same for my son. He will most likely roll his eyes when I begin to recite this story, nodding his head throughout then recline his seat, grab his headphones and watch the latest Disney film.

Life Lessons from a Simpleton

2008-12-17T14:25:00.002-05:00

Life Lessons from a Simpleton

Main Entry: sim•ple•ton
Pronunciation: \ˈsim-pəl-tən\
Function: noun
Etymology: 1simple + -ton (as in surnames such as Washington)
Date: circa 1630
: a person lacking in common sense

During my mid twenties, I worked as a computer technician. I was employed at a small company (< 100 employees, most of which were hourly) and being contracted daily to a much larger company (>100 employees). During this time, (2001 to 2005), I had the good fortune of working with an eclectic mix of individuals. One tech would come in every day looking like he had found his clothes in a ziplock bag just before arriving, another arrived to work daily looking like he was on his way to an interview. The downside of working with so many contractors was what is often referred to by old boss as the “One strike, you’re out” rule. “We don’t bother writing up contractors” he would often say. This fear based tactic was no bluff, it was not all that uncommon to show up to work Monday and be asked to “share the load” for a day because Joe is being replaced with Jim who should be here Wednesday at which point I would be expected to train him.

Many times they would arrive with a similar disposition. If you have ever seen people wake up after being sedated their eyes are open and they look around the room, but nothing makes sense. Often I would offer to take them to lunch their first few days and I would tell them my opinion of the in’s and out’s of the job. “Just keep in mind you are a cash cow to the home office and dispensable to this one” I would often say. By our second lunch I had worked my way to “If you do well and someone offers you a job, don’t look back, don’t worry about the home office, take it!” They would look confused and say something along the lines of “But the guy that hired me said that he was working on a big job for me”. Most of the times this effort to help contractors see where they rank on the nonexistent org chart, was in vane. After a few weeks or if they were really oblivious, months, they would start to see the picture. One perspective that I adopted during these years and still use to this day is that of self reliance. I would park my car in the morning and visualize my belongings outside the front entrance. I would then gather them up, put them in my car and have lunch at Cracker Barrel. After that I would go home and contemplate moving to Atlanta or Germany while viewing openings on Monster.com. I visualized all of this before my first cup of morning coffee. Oftentimes while drinking my first cup of coffee, I would make sure I had enough money in my bank account to keep me afloat for a few months. This daily visualization may cause some to be fearful, but it made me strong. The pressure and fear based tactics do little to someone who is confident they can thrive elsewhere. The only exception to this is that I sometimes tolerated more than I normally would because I was enrolled in night classes at the local college and I didn’t want to have to transfer to another school (the home office was nearly 40 miles away).

On a day that seemed no different from any other, a contractor was let go and his replacement showed up the next morning. The appearance of the man who showed up was not much different than that of the average tech. He was middle aged and balding with thick rimmed glasses. He reached his hand out to shake mine and his shake was good enough, but his hands were soft. He was definitely from the south. Every sentence seemed to start with a “well-sir” or a “yes-sir” or just some type of ad hoc phrasing that had the word sir added in. I once had a professor tell me that if someone looks up when they are thinking they are trying to recall something (most likely from their past) ; if they look down, they are deep in thought and often trying to contextualize issues. This guy (we’ll call him JD) was always looking up. I prodded at his past and he mentioned that he was a tech for a small company for many years. He mostly dealt with older equipment such as big industrial printers and dos computers.

JD was mild mannered and extremely peaceful, never raising his voice much above a whisper. He would often show up to our morning staff meeting wearing a big grin and never say a word unless asked. He was, for lack of a better word, easy going. He was not lazy, in fact he always offered to help with anything that anyone was working on. Since the vast majority of contractor work is physical, there is little training required before an individual is expected to carry their proverbial weight. JD had a soft build, he had a small potbelly and small arms. He stood just short of 6 feet and his face was rosy and rounded. After working with JD for a week, someone pointed out his most unique characteristic. “Has anyone noticed that he always taps on things?” my boss said. Shortly thereafter it became a point of focus. A typical conversation would go something like this, “Hey JD, we are going to Wendy’s for lunch would you like to come?” JD would respond “Well-sir, I brought a sandwich with me,(he would glance upwards), so I reckon I’ll just stay here and eat that sandwich for lunch tap- tap (by the time he finishes a sentence, his glance has transitioned from the ceiling back to you). The odd part was the tap-tap. Regardless of the conversation topic, JD would find a spot in it to double tap on a wall, table or anything close by.

After finding a unique trait, the techs would then tend to focus in on it, exaggerate it, and factor it into nearly every conversation. I would put a lot of black pepper on my food so a typical conversation would go something like this:

Me: “Did you image this drive?”

Tech: “I meant to, but I’ve been really busy”

Me: “OK, well we need to have that done before lunch so we can deliver all of them today, do you think you have time to get to it?”

Tech: “Well why don’t you just pour some pepper on it?”

Me: ……..Ya, …..nevermind, I’ll get it.

Within two days of the team picking up on JD’s double tapping, everyone was doing it every time they talked to him. They would say “Good morning!”, then blatantly hit whatever wall or table was nearby. Rather than retaliating or getting angry, he would simply smile. If he felt offended, than he never showed it. I always try to figure out what drives people, what gets them motivated to get up in the morning. I asked him one day, “Are you married?” “No-sir, never have been” he replied. “What do you do on an average day when you leave work?” I asked. He looked up, “Well-sir, I guess I go home, play with my dogs, talk to momma then get ready for church” he said.

JD said he dabbled in computer video games from time to time. Ever the social person, I invited him to a LAN party at my house on a Saturday. A LAN (Local Area Network) party is when geeks get together to play each other with all the participants in the same video game. A few hours into the party he tapped my shoulder then shook my hand. He was wearing his normal grin and he had his hands in his pockets. I asked him where his computer was and he stated that he “didn’t bring it in”. “I’ll help you, let’s go get it out of your car” I said. Together, we walked out to his old Red Jeep Wrangler and he even opened it for me and moved the seat forward for me to get to the back. As I looked through the vehicle, he waited patiently, whistling various church hymns. I got out of the vehicle and stretched, “I looked through the whole car, I can’t find your PC” I said. “Well-sir, I reckon I didn’t bring it” he replied. There were a few awkward seconds of silence before I asked the obvious question, “Why did you ……aren’t you wondering why…..what did you think I was doing?” He replied very calmly, “Ohhhh, well-sir, I reckon you didn’t know my PC wasn’t in there”.

This type of thing happened a lot. JD was quite the simpleton, but he always did things his way. He had a view of the world that was peaceful and made sense, much like goober from Mayberry, he had a one track mind with the best of intentions. He carried a big red rusted toolbox that was overflowing with screwdrivers, ratchets and tetanus shots. One day when it 90+ degrees outside he was carrying his toolbox across the driveway and he was sweating through his clothes. “JD, why do you carry that thing? The most I’ve ever used was a Phillips and any intense work is done in the shop” I said. “Well-sir” he replied, “I reckon I’m just so used to having it that I’ve just gotten used to always bringing it with me”. I nodded and walked away. I knew it didn’t make sense and I think he did too, but what harm is it causing and if it makes him feel better, well I won’t be the one to stand in the way. This was the case with a great many things. JD was a happy man and really, how often are people truly happy. He would sit in the break room eating the most boring looking sandwiches while staring at the wall. I would wave at him and he would point his index finger at me which appeared to have recoil. It was his way of saying “You-sir are the man”.

One day the two of us had to load a bunch of equipment from a loading dock into equipment van. The loading docks are designed for 18 wheelers so one person would jump down from the 5 ft dock and take the equipment handed to him and toss it into the van. 20 minutes later we were done and he was soaked head to toe in sweat. After he was done he stood there and began whistling, bobbing back and forth from heel to toe, as happy as a lark. After what felt like several minutes of awkward stares at each other I lean down from the dock and extended my hand to pull him up into the building. He stopped whistling, walked right up to me, extended his hand into mine and shook my hand vigorously. He then let go and went back to whistling. I can’t help but wonder what he was thinking when I burst out laughing immediately. I would never presume that he thought I was brilliant or even smart for that matter. I explained to him that I was trying to help him up because we weren’t leaving for 20 minutes, not to mention it was midsummer and he was soaked in sweat. “I’ll just wait here” he said, then he resumed whistling.

One day JD did not show up for work. After calling the home office and asking about him they said that he had gotten a job with another company. “Way to go” I said to myself. He had gotten out of the rat race that we were in and chosen to work somewhere else. I called him on his cell and he even told me that when he thought about it, it really was an unstable job and while he never said anything directly about the co-workers, we both knew there was greener grass out there. We both wished each other well and said goodbye. That was the last time I ever spoke with JD.

Many of us were smarter, dressed sharper and “talked the talk”, but in the end, it was often our fear that chose the path we walked. I ask you who is the happier man, one who is more aware of his situations (via education, etc.) and the business rationale behind them, but chooses to do nothing to mold his reality, or one who recognizes that a situation is not in his best interest and then moves on. Most of the tech’s were afraid to try for something better and perhaps it was this same fear that kept them in the role that caused them to pick at each other. JD never did this; he was always above retaliation, anger and other insecurities. He was, most likely by his own account, a simpleton. He knew that things weren’t as they seemed but he made a conscious effort to make the world as pleasant as possible, not just for him, but for everyone who knew him. JD had seen and tasted the cheese and decided that he could do better elsewhere. I like to think that when he shook my hand on the dock that day, he was saying goodbye in a memory that still to this day brings a smile to my face every time I recall it. He didn’t leave me with a group of life lessons as many of my mentors have, rather he instilled in me a fresh perspective and respect for the simple pleasures in life that are most often overlooked.

Bluetooth's Hidden Teeth

2008-11-05T19:34:00.003-05:00

****Thanks to those of you who responded to my previous post (Lindsay and Joey). Ok, I actually responded for Lindsay so that leaves Joey. I hope you enjoy the piece*****

The wired earpiece is dead. Look around at any point in the day and if you see a wire going to someone’s ear, they are most likely listening to a sports related broadcast. I was a big fan of the wired earpiece; it certainly made calls while driving a lot easier. Occasionally I would accidentally yank it out abruptly while changing gears, swatting bugs, or shaving. This would make a loud “pop” in the ear it was connected and suddenly I become disoriented, eyes on the road, hands reaching into cracks between the seats much like a senior scrambling for their Nitroglycerine pills at the first sign of panic. I considered tangles and the occasional popped ear minor consequences for the convenience of driving my 5 speed SUV with both hands. Then came Bluetooth earpieces with the promise of crystal clear communication without a cord. The first earpieces to the market were primitive and often required me to speak quite loudly. The individual I was talking to would often mention ambient noise. A few years after its introduction almost all phones had Bluetooth capabilities. My mom, who thinks putting my calls on speaker phone is necessary, loves her Bluetooth earpiece. Now she can have a conversation with someone on the other side of the house while eating dinner at the dining room table with the full use of both hands. Only, she doesn’t use her hands to eat but rather as tools to emphasize her comments, much like a polished politician. It is a win win because her hands are free and I get to hear half of a conversation while I’m eating, but it is not like this happens everyday. I only visit my parents once a week.

While in the grocery store, I’ve noticed far more people taking on their phone while shopping. I reminisce of my days as a food bagger at a major grocery chain and all the interesting people I would meet after midnight. The people who tended to think out loud would migrate to the grocery story in the early a.m. hours. It was a lot like “the One Who Flew Over The Coo-Koo’s Nest”, only with more food. I recall asking a man if he wanted paper or plastic, only to be pulled aside and receive an explanation about how his oversized cowboy boots were full of semen. Enter the dilemma; it used to be easy to spot a mentally ill individual. Time, experience, grandma or your mom warning you before you visit your grandma had taught you that certain traits should alert you that some individuals need their respective space even if it means trampling small children in an effort to give it to them. Fortunately as of this writing, it is rare for these individuals to obtain firearms, not because of restrictions or laws, but because they know if they give out their address or social security number big brother will finally be able to track them down. There are the imposters who dwell at the red lights near the interstate asking for money, a ride or both. It’s easy to tell their “status” because the pro’s ask for five dollars knowing that you will have less difficulty parting with one dollar when asked for five. That’s not crazy, that’s just clever marketing.

A few weeks ago I was visiting family in Miami when, after exiting the interstate, we stopped at a traffic light. An individual began shouting loud enough that his rambling could easily be heard over the radio, yet his words were completely incomprehensible. I knew it was English because I heard the occasional preposition creep in. He spoke with the same passion, emotion and determination that a General would just prior to sending his troups into battle. He walked with an unnatural limp, not in an effort to be cool, but because he was most likely injured at some point; perhaps an accident involving a bottle of Mad Dog, a Greyhound and a severe need to urinate. He’s not really talking to you but he’s not ignoring you either, again, much like a polished politician. After pacing back and forth for the third time with no signs of enlightenment or monetary interest, I turned to Lindsay and explained to her that “This guy is the real deal”. Not all cases are as clear cut. I now see old bearded men in tee shirts, shorts, black socks and sandals marching down the sidewalk while talking out loud, but, what was once a clear cut case now has an ironic twist. He turns around and upon seeing the other side of his profile I discover his earpiece. Instantly he has gone from barking lunatic to cuddly Grandpa. I don’t know if the earpiece is turned on, but the fact that it’s there gives “reasonable doubt” to the case on hand. I don’t know if we want these people to blend in, but if we did we should distribute the earpieces like free lottery tickets and tell them they “keep you from being tracked by big brother” and upon displaying it at the soup kitchen, entitles them to an extra ladle-full.

The dilemma has worsened. Last week I saw an advertisement for the hearing impaired and just plain nosy individuals who can purchase a hearing aid disguised as a Bluetooth earpiece.

https://www.besttvbuys.com/loudandclear/index.asp?did=978&refcode=lnc4

The elderly lady must have said “Bingo!” five times in the commercial. The young gentleman overhears the ladies across the room commenting on “how cute he is”. The hunter tracks the deer via his enhanced hearing. The product is advertized as though you will become more lucky, attractive and efficient via the use of this earpiece. Here’s a tip, if a guy is wearing an earpiece that looks like a homemade prop from a star trek convention, he probably doesn’t need to concern himself with whether women think he’s good looking. And if you take this thing hunting because you feel it gives you an edge on the competition, you deserve a hunting partner like Dick Cheney.

Perhaps earpieces are the next stage in a judgment free society. We can no longer assess whether someone is half-deaf, a stalker, barking lunatic or just calling home to check on their family. We have sacrificed a slice of instincts for a second helping of convenience in an effort to satisfy the hunger for expediency. Regardless of whether we lower our guard or keep a safe distance, it is an extension of our paradigm of society. If we feel something / someone is a threat we react accordingly. Given the advent of earpieces, perhaps it is best that we resort to our primitive intuition. Personally, if someone smells like B.O., (earpiece or not) I try to maintain enough space to get a running start (This rule does not apply in European countries).

Dear Readers

2008-10-30T11:50:00.002-04:00

At this point in time, there is no shortage of topics for me to write about. I hesitate to use the word ‘blog’ because I write short stories. If you read this page, you are aware that I enjoy writing stories about my thoughts, experiences and opinions. Today however, I would like to ask you what story you would prefer me to write about next. Here are your choices:
1: Non-Fiction: Happy Days. A story about a professor I had which I wrote during his class. Mostly I just think about how he spends his free time.
2: Fiction: The Synergy Elves. This is something I have been working on (in my mind) for some time. They are a small group of elves who were execs for Santa until he outsourced labor. Now they are consultants for high powered companies. I will tell you now, they are mostly useless.
3: Non-Fiction: Bluetooth’s hidden teeth. This is about how technology has caused more distractions and made it more difficult to spot the real crazies.
4: Fiction: Wing Man. The economic crisis causes Paul to lose his day job. After several failed attempts, he gets a job as a manager at Hooters. The dilemma is that he is also a pastor.

Ok, there are your choices. If you would simply comment on this post and rank your preference as to which story you would be most likely to read through the one you’re least likely to read (e.g. 2134 or 4321). Maybe a quick sentence as to your rationale would be great too. As of yet the highest number of comments for any post is two, so a tie is quite possible.

The Need for Structure: Draw the Line, Walk the Line or Walk Home

2008-10-07T18:56:00.003-04:00

Who Has the Time?
It seems that our schedule is becoming continuously crowded. For every item we check off of our BB (Before Birth) list, two things are added. Most recently, Lindsay asked me if I was ready to meet the Dr. on Monday. I said, “yes, but that’s next Monday”. “No”, she replied, “That’s our Dr.’s appointment for the ultrasound, we have to meet and interview our potential pediatrician, you remember right?” “Ohhh…that….Ummmmm, No” I replied. My plans for catching up at home and relaxing are once again delayed. People stop me every hour and remind me that once the baby is born, there is no time for anything. “You won’t get any sleep, silence or time to yourself”, I am told. I know this to be true, but at the same time, what can you do? I have already committed to this, we are past the point of no return yet I am reminded of ‘just what I have gotten myself into’ on a regular basis. Our love for our children motivates us to do things we would never have done otherwise, perhaps not even for our spouse. The sacrifices that parents must endure daily are some of the most difficult in that they are never really recognized by anyone.
An Act of Fatherly Love
As a child I lived for candy. The glimmer in my eye when seeing fresh candy and having a dollar in my pocket was something that can only be compared to my uncle Otis walking into a liquor store with his first credit card. My first lesson in finance came in the form of buying gumballs at 3 cents apiece. I would slowly purchase three at a time as to avoid the 1 cent tax that one would incur when surpassing the ten cent barrier. So frugal, so patient, so annoying, my dad would be proud. My youngest brother’s favorite candy was fireballs. My dad would suck the hot part off of them then give then back to him so he could have the equivalent of a sugar flavored jawbreaker. Ever curious, he would suck on the fireball then take it out and look at it and go back to sucking. One day he ran past me and towards dad and yelled “It’s stuck in my nose!! The fireball is stuck in my nose!!”. Dad worked feverishly trying to grasp the ball, but it had worked its way deep into the nasal cavity. After a few minutes of failed attempts, dad seemed to stare into space. I recall the silence which felt like several minutes, but was most likely around 10 seconds. Dad grabbed my brother’s head and held it to the floor, put his mouth over the blocked nostril and sucked…….
Friends of the family would go on to refer to this incident as “an act of true fatherly love”. What most people don’t know is that dad pretty much refused to take us to the hospital for anything. That meant that with very few exceptions, everything had to be resolved at home. I’m not sure if this was because my dad thought all doctors were quacks, or because he was just so cheap; perhaps a combination of the two. Whether or not you agree with your parents is rather insignificant in terms of outcomes. Most parents, and grandparents for that that matter, are going to do what they want with little to no consideration of outside opinions. On the rare occurrence they do not, it is usually out of love. Love can cause one to do what they would have otherwise refused. Parents unfamiliar with this concept are most likely those who opt for convenience and yes, we all know they are out there. Perhaps they are your neighbor who watches passively as their kids engage in mischief then years later complains to you that their kids can’t “seem to stay out of jail for more than a few weeks”. Perhaps it is the executive down the hall who has worked no less than ten hours a day for the last ten years in order to get ahead and “provide a better life for their family and children”. Either way, at some point they prioritized their own agenda over that of their children’s such that the outcome may substantiate in multiple generations. I say this not out of criticism or condescension but rather out of praise for those parents who take the high road.

Drawing the Line
We all know that there is no manual for parenting, but there is common sense and in fact resources that may help you along the way. And you don’t need a manual to tell you that within reason, you get what you give. I say this cautiously because for every parent that neglects their children there is one that “spares the rod and spoils the child”. We all have our soft moments, but there are a number of issues in which wavering can be interpreted as weakness. In my humble experience I have learned that children who do not know boundaries are prone to chaos. How one forms and enforces the boundaries is subjective, the fact that it should be done is not. When there are no boundaries sacrifice is both null and counter intuitive as there is no point of reference for the act to be judged against. Picture yourself offering your child the reward of a happy meal if they do their chores. One thing leads to another, cartoons come on, a friend comes over, etc. and for one reason or another the chores are incomplete. Later that afternoon as you are running errands, you pass by McDonalds and after multiple pleas for food (and the toy that comes with it) you go through the drive through and buy a happy meal (now maybe you can have a few minutes of silence). This is counter intuitive on multiple levels and you are more or less saying that your earlier declaration was in fact, null and void. My parents were not in this boat. My mom would have pulled into McDonalds, ordered a happy meal, and then proceed to eat it in front of me and tell me how good it is.

Walking HomeWe had a White Foods grocery store in our home town. It was about three miles from our house. My brother and I would look at magazines the whole time mom shopped. Mostly we would look through the Beckett magazine to see how much our key baseball cards were worth. When she was ready to go, Mom would check out and leave. If you weren’t in the car, you were left behind. She got past me and my brother one time and we ran into the parking lot. We saw the car, and waited for a half hour before finding out that she had gone to another store in the same parking lot. “Oh hey, I was wondering what happened to you two” she said as she tucked her receipt into her purse. If she was worried, she did a fantastic job of covering it up. There was another occasion where I didn’t catch her in time and I saw the minivan leave the parking lot. I began walking home and about halfway my sister’s sister in law (from her husband at that time) picked me up. She asked me “How did you get downtown?” and I replied that my mom had left me there. She said that she was sure my mother was worried sick and probably looking all over for me and I told her, “Right, ummm, I think she’s probably calling around right now”. After being dropped off at home I went inside and when I tried to ask my mom why she left me, she kept giving me the “Just a minute” signal by holding up her index finger. She was on the phone with her sister in Florida and the conversation had nothing to do with my whereabouts.
This would not be the only time I was left behind or forgot about for that matter. But I always made a mental note to keep an eye on mom after that. If I saw her tilt her cart in the direction of a cashier, I put up my magazine and waited alongside her. What was frustrating about this was that many times she would remember something then go back into shopping mode for the next 20 minutes. One of my favorite things about getting a license was being able to tell my mother “I’ll meet you there”. Today when we are going to the same place, I tend to opt for self transportation (vs carpooling), but at 4 bucks a gallon I’m beginning to wonder, how bad would it be to walk home?

Camp California

2008-09-27T11:00:00.004-04:00

Reaching the Branches
I have a somewhat estranged family tree. My dad's eight brothers and sisters live mostly in Arkansas, my mom's family lives mostly in Miami. She has a cousin that we rarely see in California. About three years ago my youngest brother got the acting bug and decided to "pack up his stuff and move to Beverly" (picture an Audi instead of the hillbilly truck and you probably get the picture). While visiting him in LA, I try to make time to visit my second cousins in California, namely Eric. The conversation follows the same flow, Me:"When are you going to visit", Eric: "soon", Me: "When is soon?", Eric: "When work slows down and I'm not so busy".

Time passes, but the pattern remains the same, we never do anything together. I am now 31 and Eric is my senior by a few years. We are starting to realize that there is some truth to the whole 'cat in the cradle' philosophy. In our lifetime you could probably count the number of days we had spent together on one hand, and even then it was spread amongst family and events. Eric called me a few weeks ago to let me know he was flying to Nashville and asked if I wanted to drop by. After some convincing he agreed to spend a few days with me in Ringgold and fly out of the local airport. I began plotting things we could do together. I decided I was going to take Eric camping. Yes, it’s perfect, the leaves will have started to change (well, slightly anyways), we will be in the woods with plenty of time to talk and bond around the campfire. I can show him what it’s like to go hiking on a mountain instead of a surfing a wave, sleep in the woods as opposed to the beach, drink beer instead of champagne and poison ivy instead of hickies. After spending a few days here he may not prefer the south, but he may very well fear it.

Head for the Hills
I packed our equipment in a hurry and we decided to take Rocky (one of my dogs) with us. The drive was scenic, the weather perfect. I only had one air mattress and rather than ask him to share it, I decided to make the ultimate sacrifice. I stopped at a Wal Mart on the way and purchased an ‘Ozark Trail’ air mattress. Wow, what a great deal, it even came with a pump and two air pillows. We arrived around 11:00 and began unloading our equipment. It was a lot easier unloading equipment with a man. My poor wife is usually forced to carry her half of the oversized storage boxes that house the camping equipment. Camping in the middle of the week is somewhat difficult if you are a corporate soldier such as myself, however there are advantages. The entire campground was empty. We could pick any spot we wanted. I imagine that this must be what it’s like for a woman to have the entire shoe store to herself. We had our campsite set up in record time and after relaxing for a few minutes I began cooking lunch. I made two turkey brats for each of us. After eating we began a pretty rigorous hike. Again, the weather was perfect and on our four plus mile hike we did not pass a single person.

I am someone who not only prefers social settings but in fact thrives on it. I find it somewhat ironic that the effect of solitude is not only therapeutic, but increasingly necessary. The combination of fresh air, campfires and grueling labor without the distractions of the modern day allows me to return with a fresh perspective on life. Unnecessary challenges that are brought on by one’s self tend to be the most rewarding. We are in essence acting out of the need to further ourselves by the timeless method of situational reaction. We place ourselves in a situation which requires that we rise to the challenge and we almost always do. Even when we do not succeed, we are stronger for having tried and the insight we gain along the way can be as valuable as success itself. You enroll in a local marathon for charity, but it is not your drive for charity that causes you to finish. You have friends in college, but it is not your desire for friendship that causes you to finish. You climb the mountains in life not for the view from the top, but the lessons and challenges on your way there. If there was a safe elevator to the top of Mount Everest do you think the view would create the same emotions and understanding as someone who had climbed it? My father cannot understand the rationale of camping. He watches his television from the comfort of his couch while I gaze at the campfire and sleep outdoors. He reads the paper while I sit in the rain and get soaked. A life based on convenience is not the life for me. I do not imply that camping is for everyone, but to endure sacrifice only when circumstance dictates it causes one to forlorn aspiration, innovation and insight.

To my surprise Eric embraced the environment and the work that came with it. After our hike, I asked him if he would be interested in chopping some wood. Every time I chop wood, I end up with at least one huge bloody blister. I decided to alternate the chopping duty. I would chop a log then hand the axe to him. After about a half hour of this I was swinging the axe and felt a familiar sting. I didn’t need to open my palm, rather I continued to work. Fortunately Eric opted for a break shortly thereafter. I had a minor epiphany while washing my hand off. The bloody blisters that would tear open always occurred around my wedding ring. I’m not sure if this is due to the fact that it was a smaller axe, but nonetheless the fact remains. Upon returning Lindsay asked me something I had learned during the hike and I told her “When chopping wood your hands are married to the axe”. Immediately she said “Does that mean you take off your wedding ring to chop wood?”. Yes, I am very blessed to have someone who understands me so very well.

I don’t promote the drinking of beer; in fact I only have about one a week. But I can tell you that the enjoyment of said beverage is directly reliant upon the environment and circumstances in which it is consumed. After a day of setting up, hiking and chopping wood it is the proverbial mother’s milk. I can’t help but reminisce as to how cowboys must have felt after arriving in a town after traveling for a week and settling in at the saloon for a cold one. Of course the same could also be said for the brothels but you get the point. Due to my lack of planning, the Ribeye was served on a paper plate. When asked what we were having with the steaks my response was “….Coffee”. After dinner we stared into the camp fire as we discussed multiple issues and challenges that the modern 30-ish man faces; work, retirement, philosophy, politics, parents and women just to name a few. Eric is still single and after being reminded about the roller coaster that the dating game is, I was grateful to have married my better half five years ago. I continue to ponder the ideals of fatherhood and implications it brings. One can only prepare so much for such a challenge before encountering the real lessons and learning where ideals and reality failed to correlate.

I laid out a few small blankets for Rocky to sleep on and I got into my small sleeping bag on my new Wal Mart Air mattress. Two hours later I was wide awake. I was wearing a T shirt and shorts, but the bag was generally warm enough to compensate for the sudden temperature drop in the night. The airbag however had slowly drained twice and I had given up on refilling it. Rocky kept making noises that indicated he was miserable. I finally got out of my sleeping bag and stepped on cold wet blankets. The first thing that occurred to me was that he was sick and had thrown up water (he had not had any food). I felt guilty. Rocky was freezing and I didn’t even have an extra blanket or t shirt to give him. He just stared at me with those guilt inducing eyes (maybe he was just staring at my headlamp) until I gave him the wave of approval. Without hesitation he made himself comfortable at the foot of my sleeping bag. The bad news was that I now only had 4 feet of usable sleeping bag, the good news was that his weight shifted the air in the mattress such that I was off the ground for a few hours. Needless to say I was up early by myself trying to get the fire going.
I cooked breakfast and we began packing. We still had the rest of the day together and I wanted to ensure that he could checkout the downtown area before he left. I decided to avoid procrastinating the return of the mattress and return it on the way home. One could write countless observations on the clientele experience in a Wal Mart but in this case I’ll limit it to one. While waiting in line I observed two teen mothers filling out an application. Their kids were literally wrestling inside the shopping cart when one of the moms had a stroke of genius after abruptly ending her call with her mother. She simply handed her toddler her cell phone. Some people carry a pacifier or maybe talk to their kids, but with it being the modern age and all why would one bother with such a simplistic outdated approach. Perhaps she thought to herself “There are shiny buttons and a full version of tetris and brick breaker, who wouldn’t be entertained by that”. As it turns out she was right, only instead of those uses the toddler had decided to play a game of ‘Chuck the Cell’. As it slid across the floor the mother seemed confused. Fortunately she acted quickly and resolved the crisis by picking up the cell phone and …..handing it back to the child! To be fair she did say “Stop throwing it”, so it wasn’t as if she wasn’t thinking ahead. This would be the first of many poor examples that my cousin would have the misfortune of witnessing throughout the afternoon. While checking out we agreed not to discuss what we just saw. After about two minutes the pact was broken.

The Day After

After unpacking and cleaning up, we went to Aretha Frankenstein’s. It is known for having a relaxed atmosphere and serving breakfast all day. Between parking and sitting at a table outside the restaurant there was an unavoidable distraction. An item was hanging from the phone lines overhead. I glanced at it and thought “Why would anyone throw ballerina shoes over a phone line?”. We ordered breakfast and after it was delivered Eric seemed confused. “She delivered me two portions of biscuits, gravy and sausage” he said. What followed was a one way discussion on how ‘portion sizes’ less than a few pounds were ‘frowned upon’ in the South and could very likely lead to injury, destruction or at the very least, police involvement. He attempted to finish the meal, but between the three pounds of biscuits and gravy and a Guinness draft, he fell short. It was at about that point we were rubbing our stretched stomachs and the waitress standing by our table looked up and said calmly “ Hey, there’s a strap-on hanging up there”, then she asked if we were done with our plates. Our next stop was a coffee shop and I made sure that we sat inside.
Notwithstanding a few setbacks, I did feel like the visit was a success. The assumptions I had made were mostly inaccurate; he practically thrived in the woods and navigated throughout the hike, Eric : “We are currently heading southeast…correct?”, Me: “Err, umm I guess… I just follow the trail”. My two large dogs didn’t frighten him, but rather practically bonded overnight. He accompanied my dad to the biker / pool bars that I avoid. I’m not sure if he thought the Bible belt, that is the South, would be conservative, but the hanging graffiti and drivers permit moms may tell a different story. In the end I think we both got what we wanted, a bonding experience that we could recall upon with fond memories 20 years from now.

Goals Achieved (MBA Article)

2008-09-22T12:14:00.006-04:00

Recently I was asked to write an article on "How my MBA came to be" for our office newsletter. This was one of those questions where the majority of lessons resided in the series of events that led to the outcome. While not the most entertaining blog post, I do hope that you can relate with some of the challenges that I faced and more importantly learn from some of my mistakes (as you will see, there are many). I look forward to your feedback and I encourage you to email me with any questions or comments you may have.

Higher Education 1.0
In the Spring of 2001, I was completing a job application and I had to check the “Some College” checkbox as opposed to the other checkboxes which contained various levels of completed education. I had tried college twice and both attempts were abysmal. I had never declared a major or set any type of timeline on completing my degree. I had hoped that by simply attending classes any issues regarding my major, goals and generally negative attitude towards higher education would somehow be automatically resolved
In the fall of 2001, I reenrolled at Dalton State College with the goal of attaining my Bachelors degree in Management of Information Systems (MIS) in four years. I continued to work fulltime as a deployment engineer while attending night classes every Monday through Thursday. It didn’t take long before I was able to conclude that achieving this goal would require that I take at least three to four classes every semester including two classes every summer. This is where you might expect me to relay my wonderful experience, but mine was not as such. I drank two pots of coffee a day, procrastinated homework, and was always cramming for a test. This resulted in very little rest and as a result, my performance at school and work resembled more of a Zombie than hard worker. My grades were mostly B’s and C’s, but there were some classes that my lack of preparation resulted in failing the course (Calculus and RPG programming).
Lessons Learned
In the spring of 2006, I was working on my last semester. I continued to tell myself that I just needed to get through this program so I could move on with my life and career. My last semester taught me more lessons than the sum of all previous ones. It began with a Business Strategy course taught by Colonel Jackson. It was the most demanding class I had ever taken and the teacher’s military background led to a very ‘no nonsense’ approach to the course. “You are all seniors and I expect you to perform as such”, he would say. As it turned out, this class caused me to consider the possibility of continuing my education some day (in the far, far future). Another lesson occurred when my wife dared me to go without caffeine for 40 days in observance of the “Lint” holiday. I learned that over the last few years my dependency on caffeine had grown such that I literally experienced headaches and severe fatigue during the first week of going cold turkey.
While I had accomplished goal of obtaining a degree, I discovered that I had allowed my negative attitude (I just need to finish this so I can move on), my procrastination (daily late night cramming sessions) and my poor health (junk food, caffeine, no fitness activities) to interfere in what might have been a much more enlightening experience.
Shifting my Paradigm
Two months after I graduated I heard about the Kennesaw MBA program in the plant 72 theater and thought it sounded interesting. I mentioned to my wife that we could complete the program together and she reminded of how I had handled the last four years. After some thought I made the following proposal:
1: Rest comes first. We will never get less than eight hours of sleep regardless of what was due. Getting less would trigger a vicious cycle where no one wins.
2: Work comes before school. Our job helps us to pay our tuition; performing poor in our workplace could effectively eliminate the latter.
3: A day for us. At least one weekend day will be free of any type of school obligations.
4: Health. We will maintain a healthy lifestyle throughout the program.
She agreed and we entered the program together.

Education 2.0

Entry into the MBA program required a GMAT score of around 550. I failed the four hour GMAT exam but aced it two weeks later. I had failed classes in my undergraduate program, but I had learned that failing is an opportunity to reposition yourself with insight. Upon submitting my application for the program, the Dean of the business division called me to ask why my grades in college had been so low. After some explaining, he stated that my GMAT score was the only reason I was allowed into the program.
Instead of complaining about classes, I embraced them. With each challenge was an opportunity to test the proposal. It wasn’t always easy, but I was able to successfully handle each situation however unique on the basis of prioritization. I was healthy, learning, and most importantly I had a great time doing it. While I did feel a sense of accomplishment, I did not finish the program with exhausted anticipation. Rather I felt a sense of excitement in that this was the beginning of my learning experience. I have acquired a zeal for comprehension that has surfaced in studying without a due date or an exam scheduled. I now learn for the desire to do so.
Education consists mainly of what we have unlearned. ~Mark Twain

My Mistake Methodology

2008-09-11T04:07:00.003-04:00

It takes a tough man to admit he has failed, tougher still to admit he’s flawed. In my case I am both. Doesn’t it seem that both success and failures come in waves? It makes me wonder how much of either is subconsciously self-inflicted. In my case, I have recently learned that I didn’t quite measure up to one of my goals. It happens, it’s normal, it sucks. During my undergraduate work I recall getting test results that were the final nail on the coffin. I would instantly recall how I had procrastinated studying or didn’t apply myself during class time. In other words, upon failure my shortcomings become self evident.

Upon failing a challenge, I tent to be overwhelmed with emotions. It begins with sadness (If I would have just cracked down and really applied myself…..), is followed by Mellon collie (I tend to keep to myself and replay key events as they unfolded to help discern how things could have ended differently), followed by short spats of anger (while recalling the key events I’ll think “why did they have to do it that way?”), a return to self blame (“alternative scenarios are wishful thinking stop wasting time”) and lastly resolve (I have learned from this and I can use this as motivation the next time I am challenged). In essence, I have violated my pride and I am seeking forgiveness from myself.

How long each stage last is dependent on the magnitude of the failure and how much of the outcome was directly attributable to my actions. As I go through the motions my wife has learned when she should encourage me and when she should leave me be. On this particular occasion, I revealed my disappointment when I first got into the car with her. I had contemplated waiting and revealing it to her after asking her how her day went or letting her squeeze it out of me, but I have learned that delaying or falsifying my current outlook is a form of detectable hypocrisy which seldom improves the situation. She sympathized and after explaining my outlook I did something I rarely do; nothing. In my case silence is indicative of deep thought, reflection or confusion. I reclined my passenger seat, shut my eyes and went to sleep, at 5:00 in the evening. I was abruptly awakened by the words “There’s a turtle in the middle of the road, should we pull over and move it?”.

Sometimes distractions are a grand thing. Recall how in high school or college your friend would break up, get dumped or find out they had been cheated on. Instantly you feel a responsibility to distract your friend to take their mind off of the situation. You offer to take them out for drinks, a movie or a social gathering. If your friend happened to be the opposite sex and attractive, you may opt for the former and try to take advantage of the situation knowing that afterwards you could always use the line “I just saw how sad you were and you know how I would do anything to make you happy because that’s what ‘friends’ do”. Oh the shame, how low can you go?

As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned that timing is key, especially in marriage. There is a time to be there, a time to encourage and a time to stay out of the way. We all need a cheerleader, just not all the time. One of the first jobs I had was helping an obese elderly couple move their belongings from their old house to their new house. I think I was 12 years old at the time. The old man would sweat just walking around showing me what he wanted to be moved. The entire job only lasted one weekend, but it was a refreshing break from lawn work. He taught me three things that I remember to this day, but none of which made sense to me at the time.

1: It’s impossible to buy an American car, they all use some type of foreign part.
2: Arnold Swarzenegger’s “Commando” is the greatest movie of all time.
3: The key to a successful marriage is knowing when to stay out of each others way.

I had never been allowed to see a movie with Arnold due to the fact they were all rated R. Later in my life I made a point of watching it and I can confirm that of the III commandments this one holds the least amount of truth.

Shortcomings are inevitable, deal with it. We know that it’s not about how many times you fall but how you recover that defines your character. Focus on the goal or create a new one and move on. If you are fortunate enough to have a spouse, ensure that you do your part to help them through their trials without seeming condescending. During your recovery period, ensure that your guilt or pride do not cause you to say or do something that would otherwise diminish your character. After you’ve recovered and discover your newfound stride, you will be a better person with richer experiences to draw from.

Adaptation of Priorities

2008-09-05T22:16:00.017-04:00

I have two dogs. A male Boxer named Rocky and a female Boxer named Dolly. Dolly is sweet and kind. She dances in place every morning waiting for me to get out of bed. Hopping in place just to catch a glimpse of me as I roll around the bed with one eye open (at exactly 6:20). Loving , caring and a little crazy, Dolly is quite unique. I say a little crazy because she has some odd quirks. We think this is due to the fact that she was rescued from someone's basement with ten other dogs, all of which were starved. This background surfaces from time to time with eratic behaviorisms. When she sees food in the bowl that she shares with Rocky she walks up to the food and stirs it with her nose for 5 to 10 minutes. Not eating anything, just patiently stirring her food and spilling it all over the floor. We remedied this slightly by buying a bigger bowl and never filling it all the way. As she stirs the food, Rocky stairs at her as if to say "What's the deal?".

I know that the majority of our perceptions of our pets personalities are based what we project on them. I project this sweet and psychotic personality on Dolly and in turn we interpret actions in such a way that it reinforces our perception. I.e. dolly stirs her food around because she has a few screws loose or she waits for me to get out of bed bed because she is just so very happy to see me and grateful for the life we have given her (an endless supply of food to stir). Yet knowing this facad exist is not enough for me to discourage doing so.

When there is thunder she will not allow any more than a few feet of distance between her and yourself. And only God knows why during thunderstorms she will crawl into any space you are standing next to. While grabbing a snack out of the refrigerator I pause to read the back of a label only to see her trying to crawl into our refrigerator.

I did some investigating and heard that dog pounds in counties near ours youthenize excess dogs with a 12 gauge which sounds similar to thunder and that the sound triggers unbearable memories causing them to hide in the nearest spot. I also heard that dogs who have lived in the wild stir food around because they once hid their excess food under leaves. While I do not neccesarily feel that either of these stories have any application to Dolly, it reinforces the personality that I have projected onto dolly and if nothing else, guest tend to complain less about the slobber from her compulsive licking after hearing these stories.

How simple and convenient for me to criticize the mannerisms of my pet as though I have none of my own. Our history and experiences define our approach and methodology towards situations. Everyone has a methodology even if they are completely unaware of it. It may not be effective or obvious, but we humans (as most animals) are creatures of habit. After being around an older family member for more than a minute I begin to identify what I consider to be obvious inefficiencies. I then ask myself, when I am 30 years older, will I challenge myself to improve. An elderly individual who is willing to change is a rare gem and simultaneously a force to be reckoned with.

One's first marriage is tends to be based on love (....bear with me). Should one be so unfortunate as to marry again (>50%) the basis tends to be on compatibility. For example, in one's youth (<30), one is more likely to adapt one's behaviors in order to increase the happiness of your spouse. In my case I have learned to put the cap on the toothpaste, splash less water around the sink and leave the seat down (I am still working on this one. Individuals getting married in their mid 40's may insist on using separate bathrooms as opposed to expensive paperwork which leads to splitting their possessions (again). If we are to coexist with a spouse, friends or family, then we must be willing to adapt such that we are mutually tolerable or cease to coexist (divorce, find new friends or move more than 30 minutes away). We factor our compatibility with happiness as the desired outcome in hopes of achieving a rewarding relationship. In many cases we may have to compromise a few times before we can achieve a win-win situation.

If your goal is love, then you must share with others. If your share with others you must be willing to tolerate dissimilarity, not with indifference, but with manageable and flexible priorities. If you don't know your priorities, share with others and you will learn them.

Painting Your Masterpiece

2008-08-29T03:29:00.000-04:00

I spent yesterday afternoon volunteering at a local center for individuals with special needs. I had volunteered to be part of the arts and crafts team which was supposed to involve painting. I wore an old pair of pants and a Beatles shirt that depicted the cover from the Abbey Road album. My friends / co workers who were with me had dressed much nicer. My initial impression was that most of them had dressed much better than they normally do for work, "Are they interviewing?" I wondered. I had chosen this particular shirt because I had seen research that indicated special needs individuals tended to recognize and enjoy the Beatles. I learned this from watching the special features on the "I Am Sam" dvd. In the movie a group of middle aged special needs men go to IHOP on a particular day every week and talk about a range of abstract topics. I don't particularly care for the 'rooty tooty fresh and fruity', but I have considered ordering it for nostalgic purposes.

Upon entering the arts and crafts room one of my female coworkers commented to 'Joe' (a severely autistic individual) "See Daniel's Shirt, thats a band called the Bee Gees". Joe said nothing, rather he hid his head in his hands. It is not my believe that the comment caused this; Joe seemed to do this whenever he was not occupied with a task. Joe and I painted together for a while and I tried to pick up on patterns, colors or techniques that Joe may have indirectly utilized in his art. After 30 minutes, a flower pot and a few pieces of construction paper, the only thing I had figured out was that Joe's objective was to apply the maximum amount of whatever color he had selected. In other words, if Joe had Red paint, he would proceed to paint over all previous colors / artwork with Red. Essentially we went through 8 colors, but the flower pot was solid blue and the paper was solid green, just because it happened to be the last color he used for both of the projects.

What's the lesson here? I think it had something to do with the fact that we tend to act on and recall decisions with our most recent insight or perspective. If the last color we chose was green, then we mar our memory into supporting that decision such that we forget there was a shade of red, blue and black before we decided on green. When a couple separates or divorces or when an individual quits or gets fired from a job, have you ever noticed that its just so simple, he or she did this or that and so it didn't work out. What about the shades of blue? What about the decisions and actions that led to the situations? Hindsight is 20/20. In business the rear view mirror is much clearer than the windshield (buffet). When I look back on decisions and mistakes I've made the outcome is only the last page. It's the 5 minutes prior to the credits. On your next dilemma ask yourself "What got me into this spot?". Yes, it's not always your fault, but that's besides the point. Remember the situation as a blank canvas and recall your reason for each decision (color). Think of how you want your painting to look when your done and make sure you are working towards your masterpiece. Much like a canvas, it's not too late to paint over a few mistakes and move forward in a new direction.

The next individual I worked with was Andy. I asked Andy if he knew what was on my shirt, he immediately replied "The Beatles!". I asked who his favorite Beatle was and he promptly replied "Paul!". I smiled and grabbed a fresh flower pot. It's solid hot pink.

Sounds Like Rain (Brookstone)

2008-08-26T17:45:00.000-04:00

I am sitting in my sunroom enjoying the sound of the rain. It is no wonder that so many companies strive to capture this sound and sell it at Brookstone. Brookstone is a place where middle class people go to spend their discretionary income on what appear to be luxury items but are in all actuality free market quality products with high end packaging. On my last trip past Brookstone, my friends went in while I chose to talk to the lady in front of the store. She was displaying the helicopters and key chain lcd's. I asked her a few questions regarding her average day, the best selling items and which products she actually used. She reacted as if I were a manager testing her product knowledge.

While in LA I ventured into the "Porche" store. I was unaware that Porche sold such a variety of products. I specifically recall the black Porche belt with a price of $299. The saleslady was very kind even after I explained to her that we were not potential clients. She told us that Christmas in Beverly hills had a tradition of lighting the chandeliers that were hanging from the streetlights (see the pic). Last year one of the lights did not turn on and some of the people in attendance were outraged. After showing us the silver verve clicquot champagne cooler designed by porche ($70,000), I asked if it came in black. Oh that's too bad I replied, as if a sale was lurking. I asked "between you and me, what feature on the belt represents the 'Porche' difference". She stated that if I bought the jacket, lighter and moneyclip, they would all match. I noticed her belt and asked stated "your belt is very elegant". "Thank you" she replied. "Is it a Porche belt"? She leaned forward and whispered "No, its........Banana Republic".

Perhaps Brookstone is not much different that some other companies which have worked so tirelessly to create the illusion of value. If you feel a purchase is of great value is it worth the money, or vice versa? If there is a lesson here (I'm quite sure there isn't), it's that we should seek to create value in ourselves if we want to be perceived as such. Dress for the job you want, not the one you've got etc. In your everyday life create a personal mantra around the basis of being and maintaining the reputation of a professional and you will be regarded as such. If you believe it, others will. After all, cults gain members due to a combination of identity crises (the members) and identity mistakes (the leader who is the reincarnation of Napoleon). I can't help but wonder if this blog would have seemed more appealing had I required a subscription fee or encircled the page with advertisements. Consider this your trial membership.

Perfect Day

2008-08-23T22:21:00.000-04:00

Today was our first baby shower
I found it quite fulfilling
Our friends were all there
We made a killing

All the practical gifts
One could have hoped for
A tower of Diapers
Ointment for baby sores

There are gifts that one can see
And return if they don't fit
Don't match our color scheme
Or some other culprit

But the love that's behind them
The thought of giving true
The blessings they are
The kindness that they do

They give because they care
They come because they love
They wish us well
Blessings from above

None of them know
At least not like I
The greatest gift today
Beyond the naked eye

The love I feel inside
Is so much more to me
More that any registry
More than one can see

The measure of a man
Is not in things he has
But in the love he makes
In the moments we have

To treasure those moments
With those we love the most
And use every opportunity
To be a better host

Those who know me
Teach me who I am
The good, the bad the ugly
A flawed son of man

I continue to change
To improve my outlook
I'm trying to return
All the love I've took