Super Hero
Again, we are faced with more tragedy; empathetic statements are flooding the airwaves while power patiently sits waiting for the empathy noise to grow faint.
On Friday evenings, the NPR NewsHour, hosted by Judy Woodruff, reads five stories about people who have died during the pandemic. None of these people are large public figures, yet their stories are amazing. In little and big ways they touched their families and communities meaningfully. Sam Sanders has a radio show called “It’s Been A Minute.” At the end of his show, he plays recordings of people telling him of the most positive thing that happened to them in the past week. These people are thankful for a broad array of reasons, but it is the depth of their gratitude that grips the heart. I think of myself as an empathetic person and hearing these stories touches me deeply. My frustration is I don’t know what to do with that empathy other than feeling it. One’s ability to be empathetic, to understand, to feel the pain, to understand a differing view is a valuable skill. It is a necessary skill for selling and for building relationships. However, as a skill for change and execution of change, it is bludgeoned by the brute force of political power.
Another shooting, this time in Atlanta, and this time its people of Asian descent that are slaughtered. More telling and disturbing, all but one are women. There is sadness and empathy all around as we try to sort it all out. Sadly, nothing will be done about this in a meaningful way in spite of all the verbal empathy. It is the political power that carries the day. Power does not want anything done. Power looks for a way to maintain power. Power is not looking or suggesting a solution. Consider Rep. Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) at the border, he is neither empathetic nor a problem solver he is a power grabber. He articulates just enough falsehoods and innuendo to poison the conversation. The misuse of power keeps us in the shadows. My empathy my understanding of the heartache and pain of individuals is a challenge because it doesn’t lead to a solution. It is just a feeling. I don’t know what to do with my empathy. I vote in a way that appears to be solution-driven; I contribute in a way that expresses empathy but it is no match for power. Power is what keeps us from making real progress. The jobs associated with power are so desirable that holding on to them takes all the power of the individual sitting in the seat.
Power has no real empathy; it voices empathy but not it is not transactional. Power doesn’t care that Asians were shot; power doesn’t care about black lives; power only cares about staying in power. I love a superhero – they are not only empathetic but they have the power to create change. Their feelings and empathy become actionable. A superhero expresses ideals and empathy and then dispatches those that would block the path to an equitable solution. Their simplicity of purpose and belief attracts us and gives us hope —- a willing suspension of disbelief.
There seems to be a glimmer of hope that those holding the most power at the moment may indeed be transactionally empathetic, but it is an uphill battle and the headwinds against change are formidable.
The Middle Child
I am a middle child sandwiched in-between two brilliant Stanford-educated sisters. A lot has been written about the “poor” middle child, forgotten about while his/her siblings reap the rewards from the parents. That was never my experience although I enjoy using the self-effacing moniker of the poor middle child to get a laugh. My middle experience was largely one of humor and causing embarrassment for my older sister and torturing my younger one. I rather enjoyed my position of anonymity and lower expectations. By contrast the position I felt great sympathy for and was happy to not be was the eldest child. I was reminded of this difficult positioning when my older sister sent me an essay she had written. It was about growing up before there were others to compete for attention. There are a lot of things that being first is the desired outcome. First in the Olympics, first at the French Open, first in line for money are all good firsts. First to drive; first romance; first to get in trouble at school; first to take your SATs – those are not good firsts and not fun. I watched my older sister go through firsts on everything and it was never easy. I was comfortable in my middle-ness because she had done the heavy lifting. After all, she was the first for my parents and thus they had no experience in parenting a child through all of those difficult firsts.
Middle allows you to do things your older sister would have been put in the penalty box for days, but being middle it was just cute and funny. I am pretty sure it was not funny to the one who was first.
My sister was the first in our family to have a boyfriend. He was right out of college boy central casting. Picture a green MG roadster driven by a 6’2” tennis-playing fraternity guy attending we-are-just-like-the-ivy-league-Claremont College and he smoked a pipe. Really?? Who smokes a pipe? This first-ever boyfriend made the first-ever visit to our house for the first time.
Let me frame the picture. Our house was a cape cod two-story house with two dormer windows facing the front of the house and a circular driveway. Now don’t get carried away this is a small circular driveway. The middle child (that’s me) and the younger sister (who would be the person I talked into being my accomplice because) were running around in giggling anticipation of this first-ever event. The aforementioned boyfriend drives his MG Roadster up the driveway and my oldest, first-to-have-to-do- everything, sister goes out to meet him. In her mind, this accomplishes two things. One she doesn’t have to bring him in the house and two, she doesn’t have to deal with the middle and the youngest embarrassing her. Knowing that I was not allowed to interfere set my mind to thinking…. My little sister’s room just happened to have one of the dormer windows facing the driveway. This was the perfect vantage point to watch whatever was going on with my sister, the perfect college boy, and the MG roadster. While we were giggling and watching another brilliant idea popped into my head. As the dormer window would be the perfect launching pad, wouldn’t it be fun to throw shoes out the window? You know to see if they might notice and I was clearly not getting enough attention. Of course, the shoes were my younger sister’s because why would I throw my shoes out the window. Remember in Part II of “The Word” describing the speed with which my father extracted me from the party? Well, if you think he was fast you should have seen my mother. In a flash, my mother was in the room, the window was closed; the rain of shoes ceased and I was, well, back in my room. Most first older sisters spend their high school years arguing with their mothers; however, occasionally, the mother comes to the rescue and this was one of those times.
Years later this is a funny story but trust me if you are the oldest there is nothing funny about this story or any other story involving your middle child brother wreaking havoc on your already challenging oldest life.
So, like the Army you never want to be the best or the worst you just want to fit comfortably in the middle ---- life could be a dream sh-boom sh- boom
My First Crush Part III
Gardening was important to my father. His rose garden was his pride and joy. He was a brilliant attorney-at-law and dedicated many hours to his chosen profession at his office. He would come home and work some more from his make-shift office in the sunroom on the east side of the house he and my mother built. To the chagrin of my mother; but to the delight of the French Hand Laundry in Pasadena, my father would venture into his rose garden directly from the car without changing out of his suit. Occasionally on a Saturday, I was asked to help with other gardening chores. The roses were not for novitiates. It was on such a Saturday that I had a memory relapse.
As you will remember from last week, I had experienced a verbal malfunction at a luncheon with friends of my parents. Having spent the balance of that day and evening in my room reflecting on my misuse of language and in particular the word “fuck”; I cleaned up my public language in a manner that my parents deemed appropriate. However, senior moments are not solely the province of seniors. Sometimes younger people have lapses of memory. It was just such an occasion I experienced on a warm fall afternoon.
Our home had two very large maple trees in the front yard and even in warm Southern California, these deciduous trees lost their leaves in the fall. Since picking up leaves did not require the same technical skill as caring for roses, I was assigned the duty of raking up the leaves from said maple trees. Perhaps it has not escaped your notice that Maple Trees like Pine trees have a certain secretion of sap, the fluid that circulates in the vascular system of the plant. Maple syrup on pancakes is great but when it is on your hands and the rake you are holding; it is less than perfect. Thus, it was, while I was working on raking the maple leaves with my father in the same area, I registered my displeasure with the aforementioned sap --- “Fuck, this fucking sap is all fucking over me!!!”. A triple “fuck” in the same sentence. Oops, a senior moment of memory loss, but my father did not forget and after admonishing me for the use of the word “fuck” I was told to go to my room and think about my language
The Good News
No more raking Maple leaves!!!! All in all, it wasn’t a bad outcome.
My First Crush & The Word Part II
Sunny and 75 degrees with a four-foot swell and an off-shore breeze; a perfect day for surfing. Tragically, I was cleaning my room in preparation for lunch!!! Really?! I thought it was summer vacation. The only redeeming part was Charlene would be coming with her parents. My parents were not Victorians but they were in transition between full-on Victorian and the Greatest Generation. My father worked for Lockheed Aircraft toward the end of World War II. He and my mother definitely raised their children in a “proper” fashion. There were strict rules and those were adhered to at all times. One of those rules was general respect for the English language. After all, my father was an attorney and took great pride in his ability to write and his use of language. In spite of its versatility, the word Fuck was not on my family’s vocabulary list of useful or versatile words. In fact, I cannot recall a time when I ever heard my father or mother use the word regardless of its multiple functions. Here is a partial list demonstrating the true versatility of this one four-letter word.
Interjection: Fuck! I stubbed my toe.
Noun: I hit the fuck out of the ball.
Complementary: You are so fucking good.
Apathy: Who gives a fuck!
Fraud: They fucked me over.
Enjoyment: I had a fucking good time at the party!
Anger: Fuck!
Ignorance: Fuck if I know.
Displeasure: What the fuck is happening?
Resignation: I guess I am fucked now.
Suggestion: Get the fuck out of here.
Trouble: I guess I am fucked now.
Adjective: He is a fucking moron. That’s fucking stupid. Look at that fucking ______
It is the adjective form that ruined my day and my lunch with Charlene. They arrived…there was plenty of how are you; you look great; are you ready to return to school; summer’s almost over etc. The adults were seated at one table and the rest of us at the “kid’s table”. My younger sister, I have no idea where my older sister was, Charlene and her brother Charles. We were actually having a fun time chatting about this and that. I was feeling very accomplished as I was included in the conversation. I mean we were kind of like adults and the age gap was narrowing. Then I got ahead of myself. Newport Blvd was a modestly busy street, not horrible, but enough traffic that a blockage would have cause some inconvenience. As we were eating, I was looking out the window and I saw a truck backing into the middle of the street without regard to the oncoming traffic…. “Look at that Fucking Truck,” I said in an authoritative and incredulous voice to demonstrate my disappointment in the driver’s behavior and mental acuity. The next event happened at warp speed and Star Wars wasn’t even in theaters. My father instantly materializes at my side with a crushing grab of my arm and suddenly I was beamed into my room with a…” I never want to hear that word from you again”. Party Over!!!!!
I cannot remember if I had dinner that night but I do know I did not see Charlene again as by the time I had recovered from my embarrassment we had all returned to Arcadia and school. From my perspective, It all seemed so wrong, I mean what the fuck was that driver doing backing into the street like that? And, fuck, was grounding and exiled to my room in the middle of lunch with Charlene really fucking necessary.? From my father’s perspective --- Sure the fuck was!!!!
Once was not enough… The F-Word Part III
My First Crush & The Word Part I
A few years back I introduced Billy Shore, Founder, and CEO of Share Our Strength and all-around philanthropic guru, to my friend; Shaun Cassidy, singer, writer, producer, and all-around renaissance guy. Shaun and award-winning winemaker, Steve Clifton have collaborated to produce an excellent flight of wines under the label “My First Crush”. My two friends, Billy and Shaun, worked together to create an enduring gift of $2.00 from every bottle sold to benefit the “No Kid Hungry” campaign of Share Our Strength. This marvelous philanthropic effort seeks to eliminate childhood hunger in the United States. Shockingly there are 15 million children in the US that go hungry, not because of the lack of food, but because we fail to distribute our abundant food resources to those in need. One afternoon the three of us were discussing the development of this marvelous collaboration; the branding, its success, and of course our memories of Our First Crush. I think Shaun has touched on one of those memories that remain in full clarity. I am amazed at the things we remember as if they happened yesterday and the things we just cannot bring back. Those with clarity are the ones that touch us on many levels. Not just an event to recall but a memory that touches our heart and soul and thus remains with fullness. There are many things I have forgotten about my growing up, however, one of the things I have not forgotten is my first crush. The story of my first crush is also connected to “The Word” ---- my introduction and usage of – Fuck. Now get your minds out of the gutter, I am not thinking of THAT usage, I am thinking of the first time I used the word in public as a part of my vocabulary. If you want to get a real laugh look up the UTube video of Baba Rajneesh “It is a magical word. Just by its sound it can describe pain, pleasure, hate, and love.” It is about 5 years old but worth the search… I digress… enough prologue.
My parents rented the same apartment every summer in Newport Beach. I grew up in a privileged family but not varsity privilege, we were junior varsity privilege. This apartment was surrounded by homes owned by Los Angeles area families that were varsity privileged. We were the cheap house on an expensive block. These families came to the beach for the summer from various cities within the Los Angeles region. Their children became famous world-class sailors in the Olympics and world championships.
I honestly don’t remember what her family did or where exactly they were from but I remember her. She was tall, blond, and pretty. She was older than me, but that did not deter me from having a massive crush on Charlene. I watched her every move and took every opportunity to be near her as our houses were next to each other. The beach was our playground so there was plenty of opportunities to hang out. Thinking back, it was probably obvious to everyone except me, since I thought I was being so discreet. Unrequited love was surely the correct description of this romance. Every summer was a chance to rekindle the crush. I have no idea where Charlene is now but for many years, I imagined that our age difference would collapse and we would meet again. Alas, that never happened.
My parents were good friends with her parents so there were additional opportunities for sightings. Mom and Dad liked her parents and entertained them often either at the Newport Harbor Yacht Club or having them over for lunch with their family. My mother was very particular about her lunches and preparation for them was extensive and stress-producing. It was at one of these lunches that I first introduced the word “fuck” into my public vocabulary.
Next week ---- Part II “What did you say?”
The Vaccine
I feel like I won the lottery. With all the confusing information and misinformation, it has been nearly impossible to get an appointment in San Francisco for a Covid vaccine even if you are age-appropriate.
UNTIL……
I walked into my dermatologist’s office Thursday morning. Since I don’t get out much, going to the demonologist was a big event. I pulled myself together with a collared shirt, sport jacket, and scarf. I mean I brought my A-game. I go to the dermo often as I spent a lot of time in the sun growing up at the beach in Southern California and as a lifeguard. In the day, zinc oxide was all you did for sunscreen and that was only on your nose. So now I spend a lot in the dermo office freezing the barnacles on my skin.
The nurse assistant entered the room with a smile and good morning. She complimented me on my outfit -always a nice touch for my fragile ego. Then the doctor burst into the examining room in the best mood. Smiling and cheerful she also wished me a good morning. She explained that she had secured a vaccine appointment for her father that morning and was super happy. Apparently, CVS had announced they would be giving the Covid vaccine commencing Monday the 15th. She had gone online to secure an appointment for her father. She then turned to her assistant and asked her to go get her personal laptop.
“let’s see if we can obtain an appointment for Mr. Steck”. Since I am age-appropriate and had been waiting it out as my local county and San Francisco were having trouble obtaining vaccine and sorting out the logistics. While my dermatologist was busily freezing the barnacles off, her assistant was working the internet and I was chatting them up. We were all doing our job and the outcome was perfect. I left the office with fewer barnacles and an appointment this Monday the day after Valentine’s Day and a follow on second shot appointment in a month.
What are the lessons?
Never leave the house unless you are well put together. You never know who you might meet along the way. People notice you and they notice how you are dressed. Clothing does not have to be expensive, but taking the time to put yourself together says a lot about how you feel about yourself and how you want people to regard you. Dress for success.
Always have young doctors and young assistants as they will be able to work through the internet. The internet was designed by a 20-year-old, not a 60-year-old. Having a 20 something deal with the internet is always successful.
Being nice to the receptionist, the assistant and the doctor gets everyone on your side. It is just not that hard to be polite and kind. What is shocking is how few people behave in that way. So, when you treat people with warmth and kindness, you stand out and ….
You get the perfect appointment and you don’t have to fight with a website that you did not understand in the first place.
“Looking good Billy Ray. Feeling good Lewis” ---- Trading Places
Innovation and The Prom
In 2007 Exxon Mobil had a market capitalization of 525 Billion USD. That same year Amazon had a market capitalization of 16 Billion USD. Today, 2021, Exxon has a market capitalization of 175 Billion and Amazon has a market capitalization of 1.589 Trillion. Admittedly this is comparing apples and oranges from an industry perspective but it is a good lesson for those companies that fail to innovate. I was listening to this comparison while I was driving my gas-powered car and it made me think of a marginally related subject – my High School Prom.
I smiled to myself thinking about that evening and wondered how curious are the things that trigger distant memories. I recount this eventful night so that it will make my grandchildren laugh. Closely linked to this story and the relevance to Exxon’s value demise is the Ford Galaxie 500 with its 427 V8 engine. Ford and Chevrolet were in a battle to build the fastest “muscle” car fueled by cheap gas and lots of new freeways in Southern California. My physical appearance could be described as the antithesis of the muscle car. As a high school senior, I was over six feet and barley weighed in at 150. I had some catching up to do in the body weight to muscle balance. To protect the innocent, my prom date will be called Nancy. Girls, dating, and growing up socially; was, along with my athletic pursuits, a failure. In today’s vernacular I was challenged. Having no steady girlfriend and a crush on the unattainable cheerleader; I, at the last minute, asked my friend Nancy to the prom. Shockingly, she said yes, as inexplicably she was not otherwise committed.
The prom was a formal affair to be held at the Santa Anita Race Track Turf Club. At that age you rented tuxedos. Having been scared by this experience, as soon as I could afford to, I always purchased tuxedoes like you would a blue suit. It just seemed like the right thing to have in your wardrobe. A rented tux consisted of pants, jacket, shoes, shirt and a cummerbund (a broad waistband usually worn in place of a vest). The cummerbund will play an important role later in the story.
I graduated from high school in the middle of the muscle car era. I remember we mostly had Buicks as family cars. However, the year of my graduation my father switched to Ford. He had purchased a Ford Galaxie 500 Fast Back with a 427 V8 engine. Despite the weight of this car, it was fast. It was a competitor to the Chevy 409 which the Beach Boys made famous in a song by the same name. I don’t know----perhaps it was because I was accepted to the University of California; or because I had a date, or because I had not locked the car keys in the trunk (that’s another story for another day) or maybe because he just loved his son; but, when I asked my father if I could use his brand new super-fast car to go to the prom, he said YES!!!! A truly remarkable turn of events. This may have been my father’s dream car but my mother determined its color. I would never have picked the color but, c’mon man, it was new and fast----Powder blue with white trim --- no judgement please.
Prom night
I was excited as I was leaving high school and heading to Santa Barbara in the fall. I showered took care of the requisite pimple in the middle of my forehead, went down stairs to say good bye to my parents and patiently listened to the be-safe-no-drinking send off. I sat in this new car and contemplated the trust that my father had bestowed on me. I started the car and headed out the drive way. A block away from the house I hit the accelerator – wow this car was really fast. For the next hour the world was perfect. Having picked up my date we headed to the Turf Club. The Santa Anita race track was an important place in Arcadia as it had an enormous parking lot which on race day was full, but, if the track was closed, this lot was the perfect place to learn to drive and everyone learned to drive there. Entering this massive parking lot, I drove the car to where others had begun to park. I pulled into a space away from the others so as not to endanger my father’s car. Parked, put the brake on, and opened the door to an unknown pending disaster. ---- remember the cummerbund??) I walked around the car and opened Nancy’s door; stepped aside and closed the door. Excited we hurriedly strode out to the party, within a second I was lying face down in the gravel. I was so thin that the cummerbund, which was clinging to my nonexistent hips, had fallen straight down around my ankles, essentially tying them together; and now, my hands were bloody and painful. Nancy stared at me with a look of bemused misunderstanding in the same way a horse looks at you when you have fallen and are laying on the ground. The face said “what are you doing down there?” With my bruised hands and ego, I pulled myself together and we headed to the party. Things did not improve much…The dinner and dance were ok although I managed to spill on my white shirt, forced to dance and fought with the damn cummerbund.
As was customary, many of us has arranged to attend the late-night show at the Coconut Grove after the prom dinner/dance. Growing up in Los Angeles you have an odd relationship with distance and time. The Coconut Grove was not next to the Santa Anita race track. It was 30 miles and 45 minutes away but if you grew up in So Cal that was the equivalent of being next door. We left the prom and headed to the Grove. It could have been we were listening to music or talking or just not paying attention but an hour later I had not found the Coconut Grove. I was in Long Beach 40 miles from where I was supposed to be!!!
If you needed to go somewhere in Los Angeles, my mother knew how to get you there. I had already run out of embarrassment tickets so what did I do? – I called my mother. Turns out I missed the turn off and was 40 miles off target. Following my mother’s directions, we arrived at the Grove terribly late and sat behind a pillar for the show. The rest of the evening was uneventful. I was able to return my date to her home and I returned my father’s muscle car un- scared unlike my ego. Lesson learned? Well, there were many. Unlike Exxon, however, innovation has come to the rescue of future skinny, socially inept young boys who cannot find theri way. The wonderful innovations of GPS software could have saved my ego and my embarrassment.
Born too soon for the prom, innovation is coming to the rescue…
TWO FOR ONE
This week’s blog is a bit on the lengthy side but it is actually two blogs in one. As I had mentioned in the beginning I would from time to time discuss sales and my view of how to improve relationships and sales. I was encouraged to write a book on this subject but somehow could not put it together so I am doing it in pieces in hopes that It might come together with related and unrelated anecdotes. So, the first part of this week’s blog is a brief discussion of selling and managing relationships in the philanthropic world. The second part is an exploration of time and the difficulty of managing and dealing with the limitations as --- time marches on…
SALES LESSON No. 2
Raising money is never easy. The challenges we have faced this winter makes fundraising an even greater hurdle. I am not talking about investment fundraising. With interest rates at zero and the Federal Reserve printing money, money for investments are readily available and investors are chomping at the bit to put their money to work. No, I am talking about philanthropic fundraising. Let’s make no mistake this is selling. Remember selling is not a negative word, it is the ability to convince someone that what you have is of value and of value to them. In the paragraphs below I will talk about some of the attributes which will make you more successful at “selling” or raising money for your philanthropic enterprise. These also work for more traditional selling but since most development (euphemistic word generally used by universities to mask the fact that they are selling) personal are either volunteer or have not come from a traditional selling background. My hope is that these thoughts can be helpful.
An email just doesn’t cut it.
Admittedly I am an “old school” sales guy and I believe the phone is the most valuable tool you have at your disposal. Most people raising money are younger than I am and have grown up with the digital method as the most valuable tool of communicating. However, it is important to remember that the people you are trying to convince to give money are closer to my age; so put on your flexible hat and pick up the phone and “reach out to someone”. Your voice is an important tool. The sincerity with which you approach your task will be readily felt by the person on the other end of the phone. Now don’t get me wrong the digital form of communication is super important but important in the way it was designed --- appointment confirmation, follow-up, and confirmation of your agreement. Granted this is difficult in the pandemic world and the fact that you are probably separated from your client. Having said that please remember that there is nothing like a personal visit. An in-person visit screams of sincerity and caring. You bothered to drive or fly to visit someone says a lot about your sincerity and the seriousness with which you take your job. When I was at Goldman the firm was American Airlines largest client because we were on the plane constantly. Today is clearly different. The Zoom call has replaced a lot of travel but it is better than the email or text because they can see you and sense the personal commitment you are bringing to the “ask”. Remember you are trying to establish a relationship and like your personal relationships, it just cannot get sincere enough unless you make personal contact. Allowing your client to hear or see you is that human touch that is critical in establishing a meaningful relationship and closing a transaction. That transaction is the goal for your organization as that means money has exchanged hands and you have taken the relationship to another important level.
Speaking of the next level—don’t forget last year’s contributor.
It surprises me the number of times someone has said that they did not call because I gave last year. Really?! The previous contributor is your easiest call – I mean talk about low hanging fruit. You already made the sale as they gave last year. But don’t send a text. I really do not think that counts. A text is too easy to delete or just not read. Make a personal outreach. Gives you a chance to talk about what your organization has accomplished with the help of their contribution. Don’t forget to ask about their lives. I would rather give money to a” friend” than a robot making a robocall. Always call your last year’s sale (contributor) to ask for this year’s contribution. Quite often, organizations do not keep good records and they forget to make these easy calls. I was always impressed with the way Danny Meyer ran his restaurants. He always knew when you were coming and how often you had dinner at his restaurants. Do that with your contributors.
Philanthropic fatigue.
Donors suffer from philanthropic fatigue which can be especially acute if they are only being asked for money. It is important to engage with your donors to find out what things they are interested in and what value they might bring to your organization. If all you do is ask for money, they will eventually tire of being seen as one dimensional. I like asking contributors what their goals are as it relates to giving. Is their goal to be a board member, more hands-on involvement with the organization, or working with the people it serves? Contributors have more than just money with which to add value. But like any relationship you have to strive to find out what is behind their wallet. Don’t forget you are competing for their attention with other interests and organizations. Your job is to distinguish yourself from the competition. Sending an email once a year will not achieve your desired result. Reaching out in a personal way and asking questions will help to achieve the dynamic collaboration necessary. Send the message that you are sincerely interested in the individual and you will learn something that will be of value.
The idea of developing closer relationships with your doner not only “sells” your organization it opens you up to different thinking. You obviously continue to believe you are charting the correct course if you are speaking in the echo chamber. Philanthropy demands change in approach and goal. Your goals cannot remain the same or you will lose your donor base because of fatigue. However, if you have listened and developed deeper relationships you can be open to changes that will keep your goals and organization relevant to your donor base. Like any relationship, they become stale unless you are open to change. Remember the same attributes which make you successful in developing and maintaining your personal relationships are identical to being a successful “development” officer.
Time
I suppose it is to be expected that as we age time becomes more important since there is less of it. Suddenly waiting for Christmas doesn’t take so long. Book a trip three months out and it is here tomorrow. Where did the time go? It seems to me that everyone, regardless of age, is talking about the speed at which time passes. Barrack Obama was just elected the first African American President, but it was actually 12 years ago and counting. I have been thinking about time, not that it is going fast or that there is less of it, but the use of time. Considering the waste of time, you might say. It is time management that becomes important and how we deal with the management of an inexact resource and clearly a limited one. Yet recently, I have not been treating it as a precious commodity. Acknowledging and feeling the passage of time, I am trying to understand why I am not treating it as carefully as it deserves. I am getting enough needed rest but I am taking more rest than I need. Perhaps it is the pandemic and staying at home that is allowing us to not be as cognizant of the passage of time. The pandemic took away one of the pillars of time management – a place to go to work. I am a fan of “going to the work” or put another way I am a fan of compartmentalization. Acknowledging the importance of being able to leave your place of rest and go to a place of work be it at an office, a construction site, a school, a sports facility, or… Going to that job is one way of respecting the value of time and helps to make sure that you use additional time wisely. Consider work as a used block of time and when you leave work you are forced to take your remaining time seriously and thoughtfully. Allocating time for exercise, children's sports, doctor’s appointments will require thoughtfulness and discipline. Whatever those blocks of time are, if a major portion of that block is taken up by going to work you are forced to plan better and more efficiently. I understand the convenience of working at home and the additional time you are spending with family. However, I suspect you are also wasting more time. I certainly am. And it is bothering me that I have not been using my time in an efficient matter. I do not have time to waste. The pandemic has thrown many of us into an uncomfortable predicament --- how to manage our time. Going to the office gave us structure and reminded us of the importance of using our time wisely as we knew that much of our time was spoken for. When I write “going to the office” I am using that in its broadest sense. Referring to the act of leaving one’s place of rest to a place of work wherever that work might be. Having a place to go to work immediately structures your day and underscores the need to manage the time remaining. Without an absolute requirement that I will be anywhere, I squander time. Distracted by the outside world that comes to my door. The delivery that needs a signature, the trash that needs taking out, the household chores that are present but unscheduled, meals, and the endless snacking because the food is always there. I am beginning to get better about exercise but the rest of the day is a never-ending assortment of distractions and time-wasting thoughtlessness. I used to make fun of my friend Dan who had a schedule which he was disciplined in keeping. The joke was he would be easy to kidnap because he was always working out Monday Wednesday Friday at 3:00. Now that I have no structure, I am jealous and amazed at his discipline in recognizing the limitations of time and his ability to make use of every minute.
Until recently I never truly valued the luxury of having a place to go to work; the importance of having to think about what to wear; the pleasure of having an assigned time to have lunch; the excitement of leaving work and the welcoming of the ability to accomplish something different during the next block of time.
I hope I can wear a suit again….. …….maybe even a tie!!!!!!!
DRY JANUARY
Love an entrance---Taking longer to get ready than most. When you don’t have much hair, it takes a while to glue it in all the right places. The correct shirt, jacket, pants, shoes, and the correct winter coat. Not the one that you could actually survive in the cold but good enough to get across the street for the proper winter entrance. Arriving you are greeted by the maître d’, the sommelier, and the waiters you know at the because you are a regular. This is why we all want to own a restaurant. The magic of the arrival; being acknowledged by the people that work there; maybe even the owner. You may not be important but for that moment, at the entrance, you are. The food is critical but the greeting is the killer. The truly good restauranteurs know how to greet and it keeps you coming back. The “just a little too loud hello” so that others will know that you are known. It is the right juxtaposition of need and giving. The first drink is the best. You still have all of your faculties and the evening is just beginning. Its cocktail number three that is the problem. You can have cocktail number three, just don’t drink it. It is important to know that you never have to finish a drink. It isn’t one of those parental instructions – “Finish your food or no dessert!” Sometimes the drink left is the best drink consumed. A waiter showed me the “towel” under the chair trick. Just in case you are being watched to see if you are drinking you can always deposit a little at a time on the towel below. Third drink aside, going out to drink and eat is super fun…
But after 30 rough mornings in December, I decided to forgo alcohol for January. Dry January is not an original thought but a crucial one. Prove that you can, give the body a break; maybe lose a pound or two; wake up with a clear head and the ability to immediately walk across the room. The first two mornings were a blur, like a San Francisco morning waiting for the fog to retreat. The third morning, up at 630; made the bed, put the dirty clothes in the washing machine, made breakfast, washed the dishes, cleaned up the house, folded the clothes, finished the memo for my zoom team, showered, got dressed…. Upon completion the real problem of a dry January revealed itself --- it was only 7:45!!!!!! What the hell am I going to do with all of this extra time!!!!!
We all love a meal out and it is clearly one of the things we miss most for this past year of lockdown. Since I could not go out, a dry January was an idea that could be accomplished. But like all good things, there are unintended consequences. I had not factored in all the time it takes to eat and drink. There is the recovery from the night before. Depending on the severity of the evening it might take two to four hours of morning time just to get to the front door. An unusually fun evening might take a day. Then there was the prep time, travel time, greeting, ordering, consuming, departing – eating and drinking takes time, and when you are not, well, what is going to fill all that available time??? My early December was an amazing exit from real life. All of the aforementioned time usage for preparation and execution managed to take up most of my day. After squandering money and my health, Dry January was the clear solution. The unintended consequence is I have too much time on my hands. I was told to be brief in my writing but with all of this extra time, my posts are getting longer. Don’t worry February is almost here, the fog will return and the posts will get shorter. I’m going to go clean out my closet now -------- it’s only 10 am!!!!
GLASS HALF FULL
I have been on a negative trajectory recently. I wrote about the lie, hypocrisy, and other negative happenings. When my sister said she found my writing a bit sad, I started to think about that as it pertained to the world around me. Why is the negative so easy to hold on to. Of course, there is plenty of negativity to grab and embrace. Climate change, Covid, irresponsible leadership, and our disassociation from the truth. The longer we focus on the negative the longer it will persist. The negative side of the argument is always the easiest side to be on. You don’t really need to offer any proof and you can just say no and the argument cascades into a never-ending chasm of inaction and hopelessness. The more we focus on the negative the more the negative controls the narrative and thus the outcome. Our fascination with the negative is amazing, perhaps because it is so understandable. Winning the lottery is just a fantasy (positive) but not winning (negative) is expected and easier to achieve. Not doing anything in the face of massive problems is far easier than finding a solution. Covid keeps you inside; you cannot work; you cannot go to the restaurant you cannot!!….is the operable phrase. What if you changed that narrative and looked for the things you can do? I was listening to a Podcast presented by Billy Shore of Share Our Strength. For those who read this blog and do not know; Share Our Strength is responsible for the “No Kid Hungry” project which is in the process of eliminating childhood hunger in the United States. Billy is the positive voice of a solution to this problem. When you listen to him speak you hear possible rather than impossible. This goal is achievable. When he restates the issue, it is the shortest sentence in his talk. The longer sentences are always about the progress they have made and what they are about to achieve. What if we were to do that with our lives? Can you achieve a more positive outlook by thinking about what you can accomplish rather than what you have not? The division in this country is a real opportunity to accomplish. Think of it this way, if all the problems were solved what would be left for us to do. Now that the problems have been defined and we have been driven to our respective corners what have we accomplished other than to define the argument. Now that we know the negative, the opportunity is available to speak to the positive, possible compromise, and solutions. I found this true with my clients. Problems were opportunities to reach out, discuss, and to solve. The horrific things that unfolded in recent weeks and the last year have created a void that could be filled. Other than the fringe dissidents, who would not agree that we should not be ransacking the Capital? If your neighbors can agree on that maybe they could agree to help people in your community who need the help. Maybe you could write a story about an act of kindness that you witnessed. Maybe you could write your senator. Maybe you could clean out your closet of old clothing and give them to someone in need. There are innumerable positive things you can do in order to move the needle away from the negative. We are in such a negative place the only place to go is up. So, if up is the trajectory that is easiest, why not find a way to get on board. If it is only about me that is a very small audience. What about broadening your audience? Find a positive that could contribute to the betterment of your life or the life of someone else. We can all hold on to the disappointments in politics, the world, and our lives which will be familiar and comfortable. On the contrary, we could seek a new path and find that generosity that might direct us to a more positive outcome. The positive outcome will have to come from within us.
Take a tip from advertisers -- they never sell you on a negative outcome. Find a way in your life to advertise a positive outcome and see where that takes you. It might just take you out of that tailspin of negativity.
HYPOCRISY
Hypocrisy
“A feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not: behavior that contradicts what one claims to believe or feel.”
There is no surprise in the sad spectacle of January 6th. The seeds of doubt and anger have existed since the inauguration of the current President of the United States. He and his minions have been fomenting political instability since taking office. Their particular brand of hate and unrest have been perpetrated in all departments. Department of State, as an example, has purposely taken the side of challenging issues as to cause the most unrest. Immigration, regulation, education, and cooperation have all been caught in a firestorm of controversy. Allowing the most radical belief systems to be given a stage from which those voices find a place of influence in our national discourse. As I discussed last week this group of leaders has allowed the lie to take center stage. What is now perhaps even more disturbing is the hypocrisy of those very leaders that supported the fomenting of doubt in our country. Do we now turn the other cheek and accept that the newly voiced clarion call for protecting our democracy from the voices of McConnell, Barr, Christy, Rubio, Cruz, Elaine Chao, DeVos is their true belief? How are we to accept these reborn voices of surprise and shock at what their leader has brought upon our Democracy.
Integrity
“The quality of being honest and having strong moral principles; moral uprightness”
Like “The Donald” these so-called leaders have no integrity. There is no true belief system or moral foundation from which these men and women can find solutions to the great problems facing our society. With no true belief systems, these people are morally bankrupt.
It is the aphrodisiac of power that drives them. Without a true belief system, they govern through convenience so as to solidify their power.
The happenings of January 6th were so egregious that they are now coming to the fore to decry the assault on our democracy. Sadly, their comments are expedient in the same way officials bemoaned and sympathize after school shootings. After the whining and whinging are over, they will return to the behavior that is most expeditious to their needs.
The challenge of the day is not to build a stronger fence to protect the capital; it is to find individuals that have integrity and live a life of principle and not hypocrisy.
Sadly, our nation has a history of hypocritical behavior. Certainly, a reflection on the people we elect to represent us.
“… a moment of great dishonor and shame on our nation. But we’d be kidding ourselves if we treated it as a total surprise.
…right now, and in the days, weeks, and months ahead as President-Elect Biden works to restore a common purpose to our politics. It’s up to all of us as Americans, regardless of party, to support him in that goal.” --- President Barack Obama
THE YEAR OF THE LIE
This is the time of year when we review our “best of” lists and reflect on the year just completed. I do not have any best-of-lists since the year was full of shit lists. I couldn’t help it —- it just sounded right. Actually, there was, a few notable “best of’s” in my world. In the dining category, Bell’s, SY Kitchen, Handlebar, and Pony Espresso did more than just survive. They maintained the quality of their offering while continuing to respect their employees and clients during the pandemic. In the floral category, Renae’s Bouguet and Main Street continued to put out great beauty even without weddings. With those notable exceptions, the world moved slowly through lockdown while most of us preferred to have just skipped the year entirely. The most stunning beneficiary of the pandemic was the environment. Although temporary I am sure the earth appreciated the chance to catch its breath before we continue to plunder its bounty.
The US election, Covid-19 dominated the headlines and occupied the airwaves, but for me, 2020 is THE YEAR OF THE LIE… I am sure some people have never told a lie; but, I would suspect that the large majority have told a lie or two or at a minimum omitted the truth. The omission of the truth is certainly a part of our culture and present daily. However, this year was the “year of the lie” by virtue of the current administration’s adherence to “the lie”. It is incredible when you think there was literally nothing truthful to come from Spicer, Sarah Sanders, Grisham, McEnany as press secretaries representing their boss. McConnel perfected the telling of a lie without actually lying. The most recent example “There is no realistic path to pass a $2000 relief bill.” Lyndsay Graham lied concerning the swearing-in of a Supreme Court Justice. The Donald has told so many lies I think The New York Times gave up keeping count. I could continue pointing out the obvious that every member of the current administration has used the lie as the foundation of its relationship with the world and the citizens of this country. What is tragic about the depth of lying as the basis of communication is these mistruths are recast as the truth. We become complicit to the lie. We might recognize the lie as misstating the truth; but, when we continue to elect people who lie, we are giving explicit approval to the lie as a form of communication. The truth becomes unrecognizable. There are many examples of our political leaders making a mockery of the truth as a convenient way to remain in office. What made this year different was the unbridled use of the lie as a form of factual reporting. Even when presented with clear evidence of the falsehood our leaders continue to restate the lie and thus it masquerades as the truth.
The sad result of all of these false statements is the challenge of sorting out the truth. More stunning and perplexing is the acceptance of the lie as it is. As a culture, we are not willing to disregard the lie as a falsehood that no longer needs to be recognized as viable. Instead, we perpetuate the lie and we defend the lie. Now when I say “we” I am referring in principle to those people elected to guide our country. There clearly are people who recognize the lies that infiltrate our culture but those voices are somehow muted and often ineffective. This year the lie became the loudest voice and the most defended. Truth has taken a back seat in the national discourse.
“I’m not upset that you lied to me, I’m upset that from now on I can’t believe you.”…
On My Own
My first year at college —- home was in the rear-view mirror and independence in the windshield.
No longer would I need permission to stay up late; eat whatever I want; hang out with the friends my parent did not like; wait my turn because it would always be my turn. Our current administration seems to have positioned itself in that immature frame of mind. No thought to the value of supporting only the intoxication of being independent. With all the trappings of independence and none of the responsibilities who would not want to be independent. As a country, we have often misconstrued isolated independence with global responsibility.
Independence is great but the real goal is being global. Independence does not mean you give up on empathy. The global empathic human reaches out and understands that assets can be helpful to others and the reciprocal can be true thus creating a symbiotic relationship. Using words of understanding, not bluster, helps find solutions through compromise. Having a global view does not sacrifice independence it solidifies it.
I am alone this Christmas Day. I am independent, on my own, but I have been talking to my family and friends, experiencing my world globally. Independent but dependent on their love and support. Together we try in little ways during a difficult time to support, understand, and share.
I need help with the laundry; it’s not really fun cooking for one; I need a doctor; a dentist. My independent self needs a lot of help from friends, family, and people who support my independence. As a nation, we need that too. The flaw of isolationist thinking is that we are on our own. We are a big country with people, things, armies, flags, and stuff beyond imagination BUT we need others. It is imperative to embrace the idea of being together because we are not alone.
On this Christmas 2020 we are caught in the swirl of uncertainty, let us savor our independence, but remember globalization does not mean we lose it. What it does mean is we are not alone, not now and not ever. The sooner we embrace our common needs, the sooner we will find help when needed and the opportunity to give help when asked.
If we are alone Christmas can feel a little melancholy not because we are alone but because we feel the blessings of independence but the emptiness of not being able to share. It is the season of sharing and receiving --- The global citizen gives and receives.
“Oh, tidings of comfort and joy – comfort and joy….”
Home Sweet Home
Home Game Home Field Advantage Sweet Home. I’m Home Coming Home
My home…. Never has the idea of home become so important and omnipresent in our culture. Homeless has become a seemingly unsolvable and growing problem. Staying at home because of a pandemic has focused us on the quality of our home life. We teach from home; we work from home; we create from home, we sleep, eat and stay at home -----
I have been fortunate when it comes to a home or being at home. I arrived recently in an airplane and headed to a home but not my home. Until now I have always had a home. A place to put my stuff. Sometimes I owned a home, sometimes I was living at home or I rented a home. But I always had a home. Currently I do not. I am living in a home due to another person’s incredible generosity. But it is not my home. The drawers are full of their stuff – not mine. It is different when traveling. I was just staying at a hotel for the last three weeks. I never sensed any discomfort. The drawers were empty. I wasn’t concerned about storing extra stuff because I had brought just the things I needed. I knew where my things were going because there was empty space for it. Whether I had one suitcase or ten, my stuff was manageable because I controlled the space. I am not complaining as the home I am staying in is beautiful and in a lovely area. It was the realization that my things were in multiple suitcases and that underscored the transitory nature of my existence. Although comfortable, I was not at home.
When I travelled, which was a lot, I would unpack when I came home. I think it was a subconscious attempt to secure my territory. To comfort myself in knowing that my stuff belonged in certain places. I was reaffirming that it was my place and a place for my things. In this era of home and the importance of home, recognizing that home also affirms your presence in the universe as your things are not scattered -- they belong. In a season that focuses on the home it is a good time to think about its importance. Some people will have large homes; modest homes; beautiful homes; just barely homes but they are home regardless of size or quality. Many people will not have a home. For those that do, all of their stuff will have a place and that place is just for those things. Some people will never have a chance to experience the security of having that place, that home. Recognizing the insecurity of living out of a suitcase or a car or any other transitory place is an assault on one’s understanding that place in the world comes from the fact that we belong in a place and that place holds our things. When you take that away it brings insecurity and doubt. Helping others establish a place for their things is giving them the confidence and the safety to extend beyond the home to grow and succeed.
This holiday season, more than ever I will be thinking about home. Perhaps we should all be thinking about how fortunate we are to be at home- to be stuck at home- to not be able to leave home. For too many of us there is not that opportunity to exam or experience the security of knowing that our stuff has a place.
“Our house is very, very fine house with two cats in the yard life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy ‘cause of you and our house” — Crosby, Stills & Nash
Merry Christmas…
ANDIAMO A SCIARE!!
The mountains had not quite decided to accept winter. There were no leaves on the trees and the landscape was brown with the occasional pine tree to remind us that there was a time when it was lush with greenery. Even the temperature was in denial that it was December. Going to sleep my expectation was for another sunny and dry day but then…..The world became quiet, noises were muted and a peaceful blanket had been gently placed over my world. There is something comforting about snowfall. It literally turns the volume down on the world allowing the noise of distress and concern to be replaced by thoughtful consideration rather than the gut reaction of immediacy. Winter had arrived in the mountains of Colorado where I had come to sort out my next move.
I became a serious skier while sitting next to my sales colleague and friend at a famous investment bank where we worked. He was the the best unlikely skier I have ever known. Stout and round he was, but there was not a ski run he could not master. He encouraged me to teach my children how to ski. Skiing became the family sport. All five of my children are excellent skiers. Graciously they now wait for me at the bottom of the run, a position I occupied while they were learning. As a family we are blessed with the ability to ski as it is not exactly an inexpensive past time. By its very nature it is a sport that you have to do together. Whether teaching or just making sure you have someone to watch your back, skiing is best as a group activity. Although hi-speed lifts have shortened the time it takes to get to the top of the run, it still allows a focused time to be together and to talk. You can’t run away while sitting on the chair lift. You can learn a lot from your children if they don’t have an exit. The communal nature of skiing creates multiple opportunities to talk to each other and to learn about life from another perspective. Ski trips provide the opportunity to be together in a relaxed atmosphere surrounded by the extreme beauty of winter white. My family has been blessed to have many such opportunities. There has never been a bad trip, only treasured remembrances of being together. I am on another ski trip with my youngest son and his fiancé. We are having a wonderful experience. We are learning more about each other, exchanging ideas and appreciating the stunning beauty of our surroundings.
Simply put, skiing is important to me and a critical thread in the fabric of my family. I remember skiing a difficult run at Alta, Utah with my eldest daughter many years ago. We had stopped in a cathedral of snow covered trees while I complained that my turns were not perfect. “Dad!, look where we are!!” She said with the wise emphasis of a 14 year old. The unneeded noise of my complaint was quieted by the silence of the snow and the understanding that we had been given the opportunity to be held by the beauty of nature’s arms for that moment. I have been truly blessed by the wisdom of my children. As a family we are forever grateful that the snow has embraced us.
“Since we’ve no place to go, Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…”
THE GIFT
A GIFT or a present is an item given to someone without the expectation of payment or anything in return…..By extension the term gift can refer to any item or act of service that makes the other happier…..
Just in case you forget to buy gifts your friendly commercial establishments have provided you with multiple gift giving days as reminders that it is time to buy a gift. I am thinking of Valentine’s Day (The perfect Hallmark Holiday), Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparent’s Day and on and on. Then there are the religious holidays that provide us the opportunity to forget the “real” reason they exist so that we can transform them into opportunities to buy and give gifts. Other words that have altered the idea of giving a gift are: reciprocal, owed, indebted —”The Jones gave us something last year, we owe them.” Somehow all this reminding and reciprocation has obscured the meaning of a gift. We have managed to transform the act of giving into a requirement for friendship or repayment of previous gifts. Gifts do not require a day they only require an unselfish thought.
Receiving gifts has its challenges too. Does it come with an expectation of reciprocation? What did I do wrong or better yet what did they do wrong that requires a gift to forgive? So difficult to just accept that someone or a group merely wanted to acknowledge you with a gift without expectation. A gift of acknowledgement with caring and love.
A few days ago I was presented with a gift as defined above. It was not my birthday, nor father’s day or even Christmas. It was a Tuesday. It was given with love and caring and without expectation. A gift of acknowledgement for all that we had done with and for each other. With an emphasis on what they felt I had given to them over the years. It was truly an incredible gift and one that was a total surprise which made it even more meaningful. The difficulty was acceptance. The tears of emotion arrived instantly as I realized the thought, coordination and effort that had gone into making this special for me. Afterwards I felt proud of myself that I was able to accept this gift from those whom I love so very much without thinking I needed to reciprocate. I received this wonderful gift with gratitude and the understanding that it was given with unconditional love.
Grazie William, Emily, Alex and Kat ——- Con affetto e amore
STEWARDSHIP
“Is a theological belief that humans are responsible for the world, and should take care and look after it… In Jewish, Christian and Muslim traditions, stewardship refers to the way time, talents, material possessions, or wealth are used or given for the service of God…”
I have been thinking a lot about stewardship as my property is passing into the hands of another steward. When I purchased my ranch in 2000, I always considered myself the steward of the property. In reality, I was just a renter rather than an owner as the property surely would outlast me. I was determined to leave the property in better shape than when I found it. I believe I have done exactly that. The creek beds are vibrant with Willows, Sycamore and Oak trees; the grass is full and has choked out the weeds. Buildings occupy less than 1% of the property. The native animals of California seek refuge here as there is plenty of water and forage.
The idea of stewardship goes well beyond taking care of land. We are stewards of our legacy and of the world that will be passed on to the next generation. Stewardship has become a lost goal for the current leadership of our country. “Rights” have replaced “responsibility” ; tribalism has replaced community. It is more than disappointing that leaders have forgotten that words have consequence and governance is a responsibility not a privilege. What do men like Trump and McConnell think about when they are alone with their own thoughts? They have made climate change and health partisan issues. These issues are global and effect everyone. The sad result of ego aggrandizement is written on the dark pages of history. The world’s disasters provide us with the blueprint for leaders that are only interested in the accumulation of power and wealth. These so-called leaders are consumed with winning rather than stewardship. The landscape is littered with people like this in business, religion and politics. What is the rational of leaders who have no respect for the role of stewardship? They are consumed with self and cannot embrace the desire to leave the world a better place. The selfishness of a populist view of the world denies that fact that we are a small part of a global adventure that is in need of real leadership and an understanding of stewardship. Trump is an easy example of the leadership of self and yet, he is just one of many in our country that have simply lost the understanding that the role of governance is broadly define not narrowly. The world by almost any measure is in a worse position than it was just four years ago. We have made zero progress towards the improvement of the human experience. Lying has become a foundational pillar of governance. Stewardship has been burned in a fire of distrust. It is impossible to imagine that when the current leadership of this country or the climate/health deniers go to sleep at night, they think they are doing the right thing for this country, the next generation or the world. It is the embracing of self that has replaced the responsibility of stewardship.
I feel sad…
END OF THE ROAD ?
There are a couple of ways to look at this picture.
A week ago, this was the end of a long road. For the most part an unpleasant journey, especially for the people close to me. The road was blocked by an accumulation of debts both monetary and personal. I struggled to maintain relationships that were not beneficial; perhaps even toxic. Thus, the road became steeper by the year. It was only a trick. The past crises are just that – in the past. The lingering memory tricks us into thinking we can change the past; otherwise, why would we keep focusing on it. This road was an uphill battle with little to show for the effort except for the wear and tear on the mind. The hope is the road beyond will be less steep even downhill; perhaps, the end of difficult decisions. However, the end of the long road is the beginning of another. The new decisions are not less difficult, they are just different. With the same anxiety, insecurity, and self-doubt there are decisions to be made. The hope is you will not make the same mistakes from which you are recovering. Don’t want to climb that hill again.
The alternative view is the success of climbing the hill and being upright and ambulatory. Having ascended and learned a valuable lesson, maybe even two valuable lessons. Having left behind those that did not add value to your life. There is the opportunity to start fresh and select the things you want to do rather than the things you have to do. Allowing yourself to not do the things you do not wish to do. As in the new school year the page is blank and the teacher has not handed out grades. What’s ahead is a bright blue sky and a warm glow. Darkness is behind you where it should be. The picture is new beginnings and a bright future of possibilities. It’s hard to see over the crest but that is the excitement and the adventure. You can even rest at the top and take the time to consider the decisions that are now before you. This is a picture of beginnings not endings.
The road does not look that steep from here, does it?
NOW WHAT?
I was hoping to come up with something super clever to write about this week, but cleverness has taken a few days off.
INERTIA: “a tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged”. For the last many years I have lived my life in an inert state “a property of matter by which it continues in its existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line, unless that state is changed by an external force” . I was focused on one thing and that was the effort to dispose of my large property. Little was accomplished aside from my haranguing of the inadequate efforts of my numerous unsuccessful real estate brokers. But now that inert state has been changed by an external force. A buyer has come from the outside and by his very act of purchase has jettisoned me out of my inert state. I am now floating adrift in a sea of possibilities buffeted about by self doubt.
There is comfort in an inert state as one can count on its sameness. The movie “Ground Hog Day” explored the state of inertia in a brilliant way. There is comfort in this state of being—-job, home,partner, play time, sports activities—-think of the consistency of your routine. Even as one complains about that routine, it gives comfort in limiting the unknown. Financial markets like predictability; a sense of understanding of what to expect, thus, providing the ability to plan. But life, as John Lennon wrote, “is what happens to you while you’re busy making plans.” Few of us plan for that “external force” as we are focused on the inert state of living.
Obviously the comfort of inertia is in conflict with the high probability that the external force is out there and headed your way. So it is with me, after all of these years of complaining and ruminating about my inert state the outside force has enter stage left.
The external force is not without problems —- I mean what the hell will I do now? No more comfort in my complaints, I will have to find new things to complain about while I search for the tranquil sea. Maybe just maybe that is what I desire. Not the still wind and the glassy sea but the steady breeze over the starboard rail as I tack to new adventures and the possibility of some personal success that allows me to recognize my value. It is a search we should all attempt. Our lives and our country are being thrown about by the waves of doubt and insecurity as we live in a world of purposeless destruction of the norms which gave us secure footings. Change has been presented to us from the outside now it is up to us to take advantage of the discovery process.
The sea of possibilities seems scary, but as I lay back and allow it to support me I feel a sense of welcome and strength. I am thankful for the outside force that disrupted my inert state.
The sun has set on Ground Hog Day…..
TWENTY-ONE
A dream of independence, adulthood, ordering a drink without a fake ID—so many things to look forward to when turning 21 in the United States. It was more impatience than anxiety waiting for 21. It was and is the experience that had so much promise and excitement. When it happened, it was all so disappointing and anti-climactic. There had been plenty of bars looking the other way. Drinking and drunk had been experienced perhaps for years before. Doing things that, well, seemed adult. But the reality was not that exciting at the frequented bar that we partied at the night before. The reality of actually being 21 was more problematic. Being 21 meant real adulthood, responsibilities and disappointments. Expectations became benchmarks by which we measured ourselves and others measured us. Somehow success and failure were more elusive before 21 and painful after.
This is how I am feeling tonight with an anxious stomach and fear of the unknown. What do I do now? How will I measure up to the new set of expectations I place on myself and others place on me? It is a new 21 which I was not expecting.
I have been trying to sell my property for almost six years. The final sale was in many respects the new 21 only without a birthday. During this time, I ran the gambit of emotions and experiences. Multiple offers, failed escrows, fraudulent offers were all associated with this process. Nevertheless, it came with the hopefulness and promise of the future. By the time it was sold and escrow had closed the excitement of a sale had long since been buried under the weight of failed real estate brokers not worth the email they just sent me. Not only was the close anticlimactic, it was the double whammy of cleaning up the mess left by others and the realization that I could no longer live in the comfort of a failed sale ----- Now I have to do something.
On the day the sale closed I was truly unruffled by it all. Just another day; no balloons or hi-fives, it was disappointing and anticlimactic after all of the anticipation, disappointments and disagreements. I am now fearful and concerned for the future and especially my future. How can I be relevant – rent or buy – where to live are easy compared to the overwhelming expectation of relevancy. If I can no longer complain about it not selling or imagine what it will be like when it sells. Now I have to find a new set of expectations for myself and find a place to add value.
I need a drink!