I recently finished reading "Flow", and for the most part greatly enjoyed it. As I neared the end of the book, I found Csiksczentmihalyi's reconciliation between "being fully in the present" and "creating ambitious long-term goals" a bit tenuous, but I believe he did just barely pull off his point of view. However, some of the author's discussion of "flow experiences" makes me wary, and reminds me of me one of my least favorite passages in the "Tao Te Ching":
"Not praising the worthy prevents contention,
Not esteeming the valuable prevents theft,
Not displaying the beautiful prevents desire.
"In this manner the sage governs people:
Emptying their minds,
Filling their bellies,
Weakening their ambitions,
And strengthening their bones.
"If people lack knowledge and desire
Then they can not act;
If no action is taken
Harmony remains."
This passage recalls the author's contention that we are happiest when we have challenges appropriately suited to our abilities--the underlying thread throughout the book. This is the danger of "flow"--that we engage in experience that is challenging and enjoyable, but never push our striving to the next level, since this inevitably involves some pain or unpleasant (as opposed to flow-like) hard work.
To his credit, however, the author does make clear that it is important to strive for "ever increasing complexity" in our life-challenges, implying that this will lead to more fully developed selves.
If you're interested in other non-trite, fairly well researched books on the topic of "how to live in the world", I can heartily recommend "The Hero With A Thousand Faces" by Joseph Campbell.
(Original post at Lifehacker here.)
Pushing Books
One of my favorite rooms in our house is the den. It's one of those intimate little rooms that is just the right size. Perfect for reading, working on the laptop, napping. It has a small fireplace, and quite a few books on the shelf. One time, our friend Jileen came over and suggested that we rearrange our books by color--they would look better that way. A true graphic designer she is. I was against the idea--arrange books by color!? It was against every grain of my being--however my wife liked it and so it was.
Over the course of the next couple months, I noticed that I didn't like how the bookshelves looked. The color-coordination just hadn't worked its magic--what was wrong? As time went by, I realized that the color wasn't the problem (that hadn't changed)--it was the fact that the book spines were all uneven. They undulated in and out and in and out and looked terrible. So of course I complained to Rose (complaining is one of the things I do best), I would adjust the books, she would adjust the books, but they just kept up their mysterious entropic behavior. What the hell? We didn't re-read that much...
Then one day at work I got a text message from Rose: “Hi! Well I am in the den and I just asked Max what he was doing, and he said 'pushing books' !!!”
Every time we realigned them, Max would sneak in and push each book until it reached the back of the shelf. Ah, the strange addictions of a two-year old.
One of my favorite rooms in our house is the den. It's one of those intimate little rooms that is just the right size. Perfect for reading, working on the laptop, napping. It has a small fireplace, and quite a few books on the shelf. One time, our friend Jileen came over and suggested that we rearrange our books by color--they would look better that way. A true graphic designer she is. I was against the idea--arrange books by color!? It was against every grain of my being--however my wife liked it and so it was.
Over the course of the next couple months, I noticed that I didn't like how the bookshelves looked. The color-coordination just hadn't worked its magic--what was wrong? As time went by, I realized that the color wasn't the problem (that hadn't changed)--it was the fact that the book spines were all uneven. They undulated in and out and in and out and looked terrible. So of course I complained to Rose (complaining is one of the things I do best), I would adjust the books, she would adjust the books, but they just kept up their mysterious entropic behavior. What the hell? We didn't re-read that much...
Then one day at work I got a text message from Rose: “Hi! Well I am in the den and I just asked Max what he was doing, and he said 'pushing books' !!!”
Every time we realigned them, Max would sneak in and push each book until it reached the back of the shelf. Ah, the strange addictions of a two-year old.
Truth and/or Consequences
Riding the train this morning, something codified in my mind that (I think) I’ve always believed, but have never articulated to myself: It is not important that people tell you the truth. In contrast, three things are important: That *you* tell the truth, are truthful with yourself, and set up your life in such a way that it is irrelevant whether or not people are honest with you.
Riding the train this morning, something codified in my mind that (I think) I’ve always believed, but have never articulated to myself: It is not important that people tell you the truth. In contrast, three things are important: That *you* tell the truth, are truthful with yourself, and set up your life in such a way that it is irrelevant whether or not people are honest with you.
On haggling, Part 1: At the right time and the right place, almost everything is negotiable. I'd haggle everything if I had the time, whether the price had six zeros in it or one. The art of negotiation is much too complex to even scratch the surface here, but from my mentors (and a bit of experience) I have learned a couple rules-of-thumb for the simpler situations:
1. If you do not ask, you will most certainly not receive. If you do ask, typically the worst that can happen is "no." I'm amazed at what I've been able to get over the years just by asking, even when it seemed unreasonable or impossible. My wife is even bolder at this than I am...
2. To have any leverage at all, you always need to have one thing in your pocket: The ability to walk away. When negotiating, it is critical to (a) not really care that much about whether or not you are able to get what you're trying to get, and/or (b) have a strong, acceptable alternative already in hand that you can fall back on if you aren't successful in the current negotiation.
In short: Always ask for "it", but make sure you don't want "it" too badly.
On haggling, Part 2: Forgive my verbosity on this topic (one I truly love), but I have a couple more haggling stories to add--these were learning experiences:
In 2000, my wife and I were haggling over a piece of leather baggage near Il Porcellino in Florence. As I recall, $1 US was trading for just over 1,900 Lire at the time. The asking price was L120,000, or a bit more than $60. I negotiated the vendor down to L80,000 ($40-ish). After pulling all the money out of my pocket, I realized--honestly--that all I had was L50,000. I told the vendor in broken Italian that I would go back to the hotel (just a few blocks away) and get the remainder. He was a bit upset--he thought I was negotiating (I wasn't). I *insisted* that I would be right back with the additional money, but he didn't want me to leave. Long story short, I got the luggage for L50,000 (just over $25). Shows the power of walking away--truly walking away, not bluffing, not pretending you're going to walk away.
In 2001, I talked a Best Buy store clerk into accepting my return of a video game that I had opened and played for a month (strictly against store policy). I was persistent to the point of annoying everyone in the store, including the 20 people behind me in line, but I got what I wanted. The logic I used at the time reminded me of the logic Ford Prefect used to convince Prosser to lie down in front of the bulldozer in Arthur Dent's stead while they stepped down to the pub to have a drink. But I suspect it wasn't my logic that convinced him, it was the 20 angry people behind me.
I use the basic negotiation skills I've learned *all the time* at work, for both internal (salary, responsibilities) and external (transactions) applications. The ability to negotiate effectively is one of the most important skills a person can have. Read "Getting Past No" and "Getting To Yes" by William Ury. Also, "Negotiating Rationally" by Bazerman & Neal.
On haggling, Part 3: Ok, just one more, I promise: First "real" job after undergrad; got the call from the managing partner; we want to hire you; what are your expectations for starting salary? Me: Oh, how about $X? Him (with 0.0000001 seconds delay): $X sounds perfect, when can you start?
Arrrrgh! Sold myself short, way short! He pounced as I lowballed myself! Since then I have asked for the moon every time, and sometimes gotten it.
1. If you do not ask, you will most certainly not receive. If you do ask, typically the worst that can happen is "no." I'm amazed at what I've been able to get over the years just by asking, even when it seemed unreasonable or impossible. My wife is even bolder at this than I am...
2. To have any leverage at all, you always need to have one thing in your pocket: The ability to walk away. When negotiating, it is critical to (a) not really care that much about whether or not you are able to get what you're trying to get, and/or (b) have a strong, acceptable alternative already in hand that you can fall back on if you aren't successful in the current negotiation.
In short: Always ask for "it", but make sure you don't want "it" too badly.
On haggling, Part 2: Forgive my verbosity on this topic (one I truly love), but I have a couple more haggling stories to add--these were learning experiences:
In 2000, my wife and I were haggling over a piece of leather baggage near Il Porcellino in Florence. As I recall, $1 US was trading for just over 1,900 Lire at the time. The asking price was L120,000, or a bit more than $60. I negotiated the vendor down to L80,000 ($40-ish). After pulling all the money out of my pocket, I realized--honestly--that all I had was L50,000. I told the vendor in broken Italian that I would go back to the hotel (just a few blocks away) and get the remainder. He was a bit upset--he thought I was negotiating (I wasn't). I *insisted* that I would be right back with the additional money, but he didn't want me to leave. Long story short, I got the luggage for L50,000 (just over $25). Shows the power of walking away--truly walking away, not bluffing, not pretending you're going to walk away.
In 2001, I talked a Best Buy store clerk into accepting my return of a video game that I had opened and played for a month (strictly against store policy). I was persistent to the point of annoying everyone in the store, including the 20 people behind me in line, but I got what I wanted. The logic I used at the time reminded me of the logic Ford Prefect used to convince Prosser to lie down in front of the bulldozer in Arthur Dent's stead while they stepped down to the pub to have a drink. But I suspect it wasn't my logic that convinced him, it was the 20 angry people behind me.
I use the basic negotiation skills I've learned *all the time* at work, for both internal (salary, responsibilities) and external (transactions) applications. The ability to negotiate effectively is one of the most important skills a person can have. Read "Getting Past No" and "Getting To Yes" by William Ury. Also, "Negotiating Rationally" by Bazerman & Neal.
On haggling, Part 3: Ok, just one more, I promise: First "real" job after undergrad; got the call from the managing partner; we want to hire you; what are your expectations for starting salary? Me: Oh, how about $X? Him (with 0.0000001 seconds delay): $X sounds perfect, when can you start?
Arrrrgh! Sold myself short, way short! He pounced as I lowballed myself! Since then I have asked for the moon every time, and sometimes gotten it.
On life-altering experiences: It's easy to start out by quickly saying, "other than marriage and having a baby"... I *cannot* stress enough how much those events--the actual events, the actual second of the sacred moments--changed my life. On stage with my wife, saying those vows, knowing they were true; it's one of the few times I've cried in public. I never cry in public. Seeing that little baby come out, then holding him, was transformational, in the truest and most powerful sense I could ever use that word.
Ok, that said, there were some others: The creative freedom Mrs. Olsen offered in her "independent study" high school art class, quite a contrast to the rest of the curriculum at my strict religious school; first time traveling in Europe, esp. Florence, and esp. a 4-hour dinner in a grotto in the Ticino region of Switzerland (where I learned what a meal really was); Michael Robinson, Jeanine Centuori & Russel Rock's architecture/public art course at Kent in 1996; surviving graduate school with my wife.
Ok, that said, there were some others: The creative freedom Mrs. Olsen offered in her "independent study" high school art class, quite a contrast to the rest of the curriculum at my strict religious school; first time traveling in Europe, esp. Florence, and esp. a 4-hour dinner in a grotto in the Ticino region of Switzerland (where I learned what a meal really was); Michael Robinson, Jeanine Centuori & Russel Rock's architecture/public art course at Kent in 1996; surviving graduate school with my wife.
Derailment!
Since we’re traveling to New York for Christmas this year, we’ve had a few early celebrations and gift-openings to include various friends and family members that we’ll not be seeing on Christmas Day proper.
Max is two-and-a-half this holiday, and he is still, as you may have guessed, obsessed with the choo-choos. Here’s what we’ve learned from the occasions he’s had to open presents so far: Save the trains for last or he’ll stone-cold ignore the rest of the gifts. Max still has three unopened presents under our tree alone, because once that switch-track expansion set was out of the box, there was no going back.
Our living room floor, which is not small, is completely covered by a complex wooden railroad network consisting of multiple junctions, spurs, bridges, underpasses, unloading zones, crossings and yes, even a roundhouse. I guess we’ll vacuum next month.
Two days ago, Max said his first three-syllable word: “Derailment!”
Since we’re traveling to New York for Christmas this year, we’ve had a few early celebrations and gift-openings to include various friends and family members that we’ll not be seeing on Christmas Day proper.
Max is two-and-a-half this holiday, and he is still, as you may have guessed, obsessed with the choo-choos. Here’s what we’ve learned from the occasions he’s had to open presents so far: Save the trains for last or he’ll stone-cold ignore the rest of the gifts. Max still has three unopened presents under our tree alone, because once that switch-track expansion set was out of the box, there was no going back.
Our living room floor, which is not small, is completely covered by a complex wooden railroad network consisting of multiple junctions, spurs, bridges, underpasses, unloading zones, crossings and yes, even a roundhouse. I guess we’ll vacuum next month.
Two days ago, Max said his first three-syllable word: “Derailment!”
Brush with Greatness
Last week we were Christmas shopping on Saturday--Max was conveniently asleep in the stroller the entire time we were at the toy store--and we (along with several hundred other people) bumped into Frank Jackson, Cleveland’s newly elected mayor. His bodyguard was trailing him, pushing a cart-full of toys, “For the grandchildren,” as he put it. It was a funny sight.
Last week we were Christmas shopping on Saturday--Max was conveniently asleep in the stroller the entire time we were at the toy store--and we (along with several hundred other people) bumped into Frank Jackson, Cleveland’s newly elected mayor. His bodyguard was trailing him, pushing a cart-full of toys, “For the grandchildren,” as he put it. It was a funny sight.
Buy Nothing Day is this Friday. Lifehacker did a post on it; there were some interesting commments. Here's mine:
Buy Nothing Day is simply a sanity check. It is a reminder that we don't--or shouldn't--need *things* to be happy. It is a reminder that mindless, excessive consumerism is not good for an individual or for a family, and should not be the primary basis of an economy. The idea of the "door-buster"--of getting people hyped up into a rabid state of intense desire for bargain-priced goods that they may or may not need--is reprehensible. We should be embarrassed by the froth coming out of our mouths.
For the record, although I am an individual with decisively liberal moral values, I am very much pro-capital. I enjoy making money, saving money, investing money. I love to buy nice things from time to time. But I don't go crazy. I take public transit instead of driving. I try to leave a small footprint, to live well below my means.
There is a burgeoning underclass in this country that is becoming completely trapped by the consumerist culture we've created over the years. Our buying patters, our city-building patterns, our dependence on the car, our expectation for an ultra-high standard of living (compared to the world as a whole)--all these factors (and a few more not mentioned) are eliminating the "middle class" and creating a poor, work-until-you die-class, and a middling-affluent work-until-you-die class. Of course in the top percentiles of society are the ultra-wealthy. Why are we moving in this direction? No one is to blame. Everyone is to blame. A consumption-dependent economy is part of the problem.
*Trade* always has been, and always will be, a part of the human condition. But we must stay sane. We must not behave like rabid dogs. Shun the door-buster. Embrace Buy Nothing Day for its symbolism alone, then learn from what you've done, and let that lesson manifest itself throughout the entire year.
Buy Nothing Day is simply a sanity check. It is a reminder that we don't--or shouldn't--need *things* to be happy. It is a reminder that mindless, excessive consumerism is not good for an individual or for a family, and should not be the primary basis of an economy. The idea of the "door-buster"--of getting people hyped up into a rabid state of intense desire for bargain-priced goods that they may or may not need--is reprehensible. We should be embarrassed by the froth coming out of our mouths.
For the record, although I am an individual with decisively liberal moral values, I am very much pro-capital. I enjoy making money, saving money, investing money. I love to buy nice things from time to time. But I don't go crazy. I take public transit instead of driving. I try to leave a small footprint, to live well below my means.
There is a burgeoning underclass in this country that is becoming completely trapped by the consumerist culture we've created over the years. Our buying patters, our city-building patterns, our dependence on the car, our expectation for an ultra-high standard of living (compared to the world as a whole)--all these factors (and a few more not mentioned) are eliminating the "middle class" and creating a poor, work-until-you die-class, and a middling-affluent work-until-you-die class. Of course in the top percentiles of society are the ultra-wealthy. Why are we moving in this direction? No one is to blame. Everyone is to blame. A consumption-dependent economy is part of the problem.
*Trade* always has been, and always will be, a part of the human condition. But we must stay sane. We must not behave like rabid dogs. Shun the door-buster. Embrace Buy Nothing Day for its symbolism alone, then learn from what you've done, and let that lesson manifest itself throughout the entire year.
On using peer pressure to motivate yourself: Ideally, we want to be centered enough not to need the eyes of others to keep us moving toward our goals, or to "do the right thing."
But hey, none of us are perfect, right? So a small, temporary dose of peer pressure might be a good way to kick us back onto the path toward personal accountability. Then, as quickly as possible, we must wean ourselves of this technique, and again rely primarily on the strength of our own conscience and drive.
Peer pressure is a dangerous substance, and is best kept contained in a small, tightly locked box.
But hey, none of us are perfect, right? So a small, temporary dose of peer pressure might be a good way to kick us back onto the path toward personal accountability. Then, as quickly as possible, we must wean ourselves of this technique, and again rely primarily on the strength of our own conscience and drive.
Peer pressure is a dangerous substance, and is best kept contained in a small, tightly locked box.
On saying "yes" more: The idea of more frequently saying "yes" acknowledges the notion that the universe is an abundant place, that there are opportunities for those who are receptive (and perceptive), that one should go with the flow. Saying "yes" can be a way to break out of an imprisoning, monotonous routine.
However, saying yes too often can whipsaw you around, make you lose all your money, and leave you dead. In my business, I have personally observed several very successful individuals who say "no" much more, at least one hundred times more, than they say "yes". But many of their yeses have won big, because they were entered into carefully. Once they found something that was a "yes", they took it all the way...
How about we say this instead: "Be open-minded about, but carefully scrutinize, all opportunities, ideas and decisions that you encounter. Then, if you find something worthwhile, say 'yes' and give it all you've got."
However, saying yes too often can whipsaw you around, make you lose all your money, and leave you dead. In my business, I have personally observed several very successful individuals who say "no" much more, at least one hundred times more, than they say "yes". But many of their yeses have won big, because they were entered into carefully. Once they found something that was a "yes", they took it all the way...
How about we say this instead: "Be open-minded about, but carefully scrutinize, all opportunities, ideas and decisions that you encounter. Then, if you find something worthwhile, say 'yes' and give it all you've got."
Here are some recent comments I've left on Lifehacker:
- Dollars and sense: "A part of what you earn is yours to keep." It sounds so simple that it approaches being silly, but it's more difficult than most people are willing to admit. Can you save one penny for every ten pennies you earn? It's been said another way: "Pay yourself first." ... Read "The Richest Man in Babylon" by George Clason and "The Millionaire Next Door" by Thomas Stanley & William Danko. These are very basic, very illuminating books that will hopefully leave a lasting impression on you regarding the essence of managing your financial life and maybe, just maybe, *creating wealth*. ... There's no magic: 1) Save money--make this your first financial priority. What follows next is simple: 2) Spend less than you earn! Live below your means (according to the Motley Fool)! Budget! 3) Avoid the types of debt that work against you (i.e., home mortgage OK, mortgage on investment property OK, student loans bad but still OK because they can increase earning power and typically have very low interest rates, BUT, credit cards that carry a balance BAD, BAD, BAD!). 4) Invest your money. There are too many investment vehicles to name. Find one that suits your personality. This will take significant time and effort, but you must do it. Remember, earning less on your money than the rate of inflation means you're losing money.
- Starter homes: Buying a home you can actually afford is one of those bits of common sense that people seem to have forgotten, for the moment at least. Here's an interesting rule of thumb that I pass on to people: ... Assuming you are not burdened by a large amount of consumer debt, the upper limits of what could be considered 'an affordable home purchase price' are around 3x your gross annual income. If you want to build wealth, limit your home purchase price to 2x (or less) your gross annual income. ... These are extraordinarily simplified notions, and while helpful, should be used with caution. You must look at your total financial picture (especially all other debt obligations) before making any purchase decisions. And of course interest rates affect these multiples. As rates go up, the multiples will go down. ... One final note: I'm a firm believer that home ownership *should not* be the primary means by which one builds wealth. While coastal (and selected other) cities have seen tremendous appreciation, much of the country cannot consistently depend on this type of value growth. ... View owning a home as a tax-advantaged alternative to renting. Then carefully and aggressively invest your money elsewhere.
- How do you use your Palmtop Computer?
- Manage your distractions
- Dollars and sense: "A part of what you earn is yours to keep." It sounds so simple that it approaches being silly, but it's more difficult than most people are willing to admit. Can you save one penny for every ten pennies you earn? It's been said another way: "Pay yourself first." ... Read "The Richest Man in Babylon" by George Clason and "The Millionaire Next Door" by Thomas Stanley & William Danko. These are very basic, very illuminating books that will hopefully leave a lasting impression on you regarding the essence of managing your financial life and maybe, just maybe, *creating wealth*. ... There's no magic: 1) Save money--make this your first financial priority. What follows next is simple: 2) Spend less than you earn! Live below your means (according to the Motley Fool)! Budget! 3) Avoid the types of debt that work against you (i.e., home mortgage OK, mortgage on investment property OK, student loans bad but still OK because they can increase earning power and typically have very low interest rates, BUT, credit cards that carry a balance BAD, BAD, BAD!). 4) Invest your money. There are too many investment vehicles to name. Find one that suits your personality. This will take significant time and effort, but you must do it. Remember, earning less on your money than the rate of inflation means you're losing money.
- Starter homes: Buying a home you can actually afford is one of those bits of common sense that people seem to have forgotten, for the moment at least. Here's an interesting rule of thumb that I pass on to people: ... Assuming you are not burdened by a large amount of consumer debt, the upper limits of what could be considered 'an affordable home purchase price' are around 3x your gross annual income. If you want to build wealth, limit your home purchase price to 2x (or less) your gross annual income. ... These are extraordinarily simplified notions, and while helpful, should be used with caution. You must look at your total financial picture (especially all other debt obligations) before making any purchase decisions. And of course interest rates affect these multiples. As rates go up, the multiples will go down. ... One final note: I'm a firm believer that home ownership *should not* be the primary means by which one builds wealth. While coastal (and selected other) cities have seen tremendous appreciation, much of the country cannot consistently depend on this type of value growth. ... View owning a home as a tax-advantaged alternative to renting. Then carefully and aggressively invest your money elsewhere.
- How do you use your Palmtop Computer?
- Manage your distractions
Over the years, I’ve heard many parents say how much it hurts to punish their children. What I do not hear discussed as often is *why* it hurts. I suspect the reasons change as your children grow.
Max is two years old. When we punish him it usually involves the infamous “time-out”, or sometimes we put him to bed early without reading any books (he really hates this). For me, at his age, what makes giving punishment hurt is the lost time. I already spend about ten hours per day away from home throughout the workweek. I cherish (as does every parent) every good moment I’m able to spend with Max. Anything that happens to erode or taint this time hurts me.
The old cliché about parents punishing their children: “This is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you...” It really does.
Max is two years old. When we punish him it usually involves the infamous “time-out”, or sometimes we put him to bed early without reading any books (he really hates this). For me, at his age, what makes giving punishment hurt is the lost time. I already spend about ten hours per day away from home throughout the workweek. I cherish (as does every parent) every good moment I’m able to spend with Max. Anything that happens to erode or taint this time hurts me.
The old cliché about parents punishing their children: “This is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you...” It really does.
Last Sunday we took Max to a small, free railroad museum in Conneaut, Ohio, near the Pennsylvania border. As you may or may not be aware, Max is currently obsessed with choo-choos. Obsessed. I suppose this is fairly normal for a 27 month-old boy. Needless to say, Max devoured the museum. There was so much for him to take in that he almost overloaded: An expansive HO-scale landscape with several operating trains; a full-sized, decommissioned steam locomotive; all sorts of old railroad artifacts (signal lights, signs, train parts, etc.); it was pretty impressive for a little non-profit museum.
The kid is so cute I can’t stand it. We bought a copy of the book The Little Red Caboose at the museum; Max pointed at it and said “-boofth” (his attempt at caboose). Rose corrected him: “No, Max, it’s CA-boose. The Little Red Caboose.” Max tried again: “Ca-ca ... R-E ... boofth.” Interpretation: “Ca-red-boose”. Max doesn’t say “red”, he spells it, sometimes “R-E” and sometimes “R-E-D”. In this case he put the adjective inside the word. “Ca-ca ... R-E-D ... boofth”. How inventive...
The museum is housed in an old (early 20th Century) train station, directly adjacent to still-active railroad tracks. Near the end of our visit we heard a (real) train coming, so naturally we thought Max would want a front-row seat. What we didn’t understand (or perhaps temporarily forgot, in our excitement) is just how intense standing 30 feet away from a locomotive traveling 50 MPH can be. Rose and I each covered one of Max’s ears (I was holding him); but it was still very loud and the rumbling of the train shook the ground and our bodies.
Max was scared by the train and was holding onto me very tightly, trembling, but he stood his ground and he watched that train head-on. I said, “Max that sure is a big loud train, isn’t it?” He replied, his voice wavering--on the verge of crying, “Ya!”
But he didn’t cry, and he didn’t turn away. He was so brave, our little boy. I was so proud of him!
The next day, I happened to see this quote, and I couldn’t help but think of Max: “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear--not absence of fear” (Mark Twain).
My brave boy.
The kid is so cute I can’t stand it. We bought a copy of the book The Little Red Caboose at the museum; Max pointed at it and said “-boofth” (his attempt at caboose). Rose corrected him: “No, Max, it’s CA-boose. The Little Red Caboose.” Max tried again: “Ca-ca ... R-E ... boofth.” Interpretation: “Ca-red-boose”. Max doesn’t say “red”, he spells it, sometimes “R-E” and sometimes “R-E-D”. In this case he put the adjective inside the word. “Ca-ca ... R-E-D ... boofth”. How inventive...
The museum is housed in an old (early 20th Century) train station, directly adjacent to still-active railroad tracks. Near the end of our visit we heard a (real) train coming, so naturally we thought Max would want a front-row seat. What we didn’t understand (or perhaps temporarily forgot, in our excitement) is just how intense standing 30 feet away from a locomotive traveling 50 MPH can be. Rose and I each covered one of Max’s ears (I was holding him); but it was still very loud and the rumbling of the train shook the ground and our bodies.
Max was scared by the train and was holding onto me very tightly, trembling, but he stood his ground and he watched that train head-on. I said, “Max that sure is a big loud train, isn’t it?” He replied, his voice wavering--on the verge of crying, “Ya!”
But he didn’t cry, and he didn’t turn away. He was so brave, our little boy. I was so proud of him!
The next day, I happened to see this quote, and I couldn’t help but think of Max: “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear--not absence of fear” (Mark Twain).
My brave boy.
About a month-and-a-half before Grandpa died, I was flying home from Atlanta on one of those rare sunny early spring afternoons we had this year. Usually when commercial flights land at Hopkins they approach from the north, scribing an arc out over Lake Erie before turning south for the final approach. Sometimes, when the prevailing winds are blowing from a certain direction, the flight will be redirected to land from the south. When this happens, the jet sweeps down southwest as far as New London and Wellington, and then traces the old Conrail line northeast until finally landing. Most people on board complain when this diversion occurs, because it can add as much as twenty minutes to the flight time. Personally I've always enjoyed these detours, because it lets me observe the vast green space in rural southwest Lorain County.
Coming in this particular time, as the pilot was circling around to begin a southern approach for the 2:23 PM landing, I looked down and saw where my Grandparents had lived for the majority of my childhood--a mobile home park adjacent to the mall in Elyria. I saw the elliptical circulation road interconnecting the park; I saw the community center where I had my first and only meaningful interaction with Santa Claus…and then a wave of memory hit me when I looked down and saw the old railroad tracks where Grandpa and I used to walk.
I don't remember exactly how old I was when Grandpa and I frequented those tracks--I think it was a few years surrounding age seven. During summer we would go there many times. In my mind we would spend all day at the tracks. I would do that thing where you put your ear to the rail and listen for trains coming from miles away. I'd hop from one railroad tie to another as grandpa walked patiently alongside me. Together, we'd pick up and throw the tar-soaked pebbles that filled the gaps between ties. Grandpa was in his fifties at the time, and he seemed to enjoy throwing dirty pebbles as much as I did. To this day, the smell of creosote and tar brings me back to that stretch of rail, a sacred place that will always be home to one of the happiest, most carefree times in my life.
That carefree feeling illustrates one of the greatest aspects Grandpa's personality: He new how to go slow, sit back and enjoy life. I learned how to do this by watching him. As Grandpa progressed through life and eventually into retirement, he seemed very comfortable with his transition into the world of observation, rest and enjoyment. He became a true elder--no longer feeling that he had to prove anything to anyone. He took to sitting in a lawn chair in his driveway on warm days--relaxing, observing nature, greeting visitors as they came. He had the wisdom to teach by quiet example.
Grandpa had a way of seeing through affectation to discern real needs or problems. Once, when Rose and I came home for Christmas, we'd had an argument before arriving at the house. I was convinced that we'd composed ourselves well enough that no one would be able to tell. Grandpa pulled us aside and said, "Hey, are you kids having a spat?" His correction was so humble and his demeanor so caring that we couldn't help but make up right there on the spot. He didn't embarrass us...he simply reminded us of ourselves.
When Rose and I were away at graduate school, we rarely had more than a few cents to rub together. Of course we worked very hard to give the impression that we were doing just fine, but Grandpa knew better. On several occasions, as we were getting ready to leave for our drive back to New York, Grandpa would slip something into my pocket. "Coffee money," he would say. Later, when we were in the car and out of sight I'd reach into my pocket and find that this so-called "coffee money" was often a couple of hundred dollars. This is the kind of guy he was.
I could go on about memories of Grandpa...the way he scared me to death driving the winding roads of West Virginia at 65 miles per hour...the way he found endless joy in mowing grass...the way he just loved a new car...the way that he would always pinch Grandma's behind when she least expected it...the way he became the grandfather that my wife never had...I could go on for hours. But I guess I'll just close by saying that I feel fortunate to have been friends with my grandfather for thirty years, that I'm so happy he got to know my wife and son, and that I'm thrilled I'll see him again someday sitting in his lawn chair in Heaven's driveway.
Robert Woodyard: August 31, 1928-May 18, 2005; 77.7 years old
Coming in this particular time, as the pilot was circling around to begin a southern approach for the 2:23 PM landing, I looked down and saw where my Grandparents had lived for the majority of my childhood--a mobile home park adjacent to the mall in Elyria. I saw the elliptical circulation road interconnecting the park; I saw the community center where I had my first and only meaningful interaction with Santa Claus…and then a wave of memory hit me when I looked down and saw the old railroad tracks where Grandpa and I used to walk.
I don't remember exactly how old I was when Grandpa and I frequented those tracks--I think it was a few years surrounding age seven. During summer we would go there many times. In my mind we would spend all day at the tracks. I would do that thing where you put your ear to the rail and listen for trains coming from miles away. I'd hop from one railroad tie to another as grandpa walked patiently alongside me. Together, we'd pick up and throw the tar-soaked pebbles that filled the gaps between ties. Grandpa was in his fifties at the time, and he seemed to enjoy throwing dirty pebbles as much as I did. To this day, the smell of creosote and tar brings me back to that stretch of rail, a sacred place that will always be home to one of the happiest, most carefree times in my life.
That carefree feeling illustrates one of the greatest aspects Grandpa's personality: He new how to go slow, sit back and enjoy life. I learned how to do this by watching him. As Grandpa progressed through life and eventually into retirement, he seemed very comfortable with his transition into the world of observation, rest and enjoyment. He became a true elder--no longer feeling that he had to prove anything to anyone. He took to sitting in a lawn chair in his driveway on warm days--relaxing, observing nature, greeting visitors as they came. He had the wisdom to teach by quiet example.
Grandpa had a way of seeing through affectation to discern real needs or problems. Once, when Rose and I came home for Christmas, we'd had an argument before arriving at the house. I was convinced that we'd composed ourselves well enough that no one would be able to tell. Grandpa pulled us aside and said, "Hey, are you kids having a spat?" His correction was so humble and his demeanor so caring that we couldn't help but make up right there on the spot. He didn't embarrass us...he simply reminded us of ourselves.
When Rose and I were away at graduate school, we rarely had more than a few cents to rub together. Of course we worked very hard to give the impression that we were doing just fine, but Grandpa knew better. On several occasions, as we were getting ready to leave for our drive back to New York, Grandpa would slip something into my pocket. "Coffee money," he would say. Later, when we were in the car and out of sight I'd reach into my pocket and find that this so-called "coffee money" was often a couple of hundred dollars. This is the kind of guy he was.
I could go on about memories of Grandpa...the way he scared me to death driving the winding roads of West Virginia at 65 miles per hour...the way he found endless joy in mowing grass...the way he just loved a new car...the way that he would always pinch Grandma's behind when she least expected it...the way he became the grandfather that my wife never had...I could go on for hours. But I guess I'll just close by saying that I feel fortunate to have been friends with my grandfather for thirty years, that I'm so happy he got to know my wife and son, and that I'm thrilled I'll see him again someday sitting in his lawn chair in Heaven's driveway.
Robert Woodyard: August 31, 1928-May 18, 2005; 77.7 years old
Caught up in daily duties, it's easy to forget the value of each particular moment. I just looked at a photo of myself and my son playing in the snow in our back yard this past winter. The look on his face--pure joy--made me realize how significant to him that play time was. For me it was just another snowy day. For him it was strange-cold-mystery-powder that you could eat, wad up into a ball, and dive into. For me, thirty-one years old, it was just another demanding Cleveland winter. For him, eighteen months old, it was the wilderness. We probably only went out to play--really play in the snow, not counting going outside for trips to grandparents and the store--half a dozen times that winter. Too cold for the little guy, too much work to get dressed, don't want him to catch a cold, we used all those excuses. But when I look at that photo I realize he'll never be eighteen months old in the snow again! The winter of 2004 is gone forever--glad we enjoyed it with him like we did--wish we'd done even more...
It's not just another winter, it's not just another summer--each year, each season has its own identity in your memory, like a friend you once knew. Make it everything you can, because that's how you'll remember it forever.
It's not just another winter, it's not just another summer--each year, each season has its own identity in your memory, like a friend you once knew. Make it everything you can, because that's how you'll remember it forever.
Warcraft and Life
For better or for worse, lately I've been indulging in that popular, well-executed, unbelievable time-sink MMOG known as World of Warcraft. This being my first 'serious' experience with MMOG (and yes, I'm one of those non-hardcore players who dove in after reading about it in the New York Times), I'm bound to have some observations.
Here's the first: In life, as in Warcraft, we humans 'level-up'--we become older, more experienced as we move through life over time. However, unlike in the MMOG world, aging and gaining experience in real life does not ensure increased wisdom, skill and accomplishment. While Warcraft characters inevitably become stronger, wiser, more skillful and powerful as they age, we humans have the ability to grow older while getting no better at 'the game of life' due to laziness, apathy, fear, or any number of other excuses.
If only life held the same guarantees as Warcraft...
For better or for worse, lately I've been indulging in that popular, well-executed, unbelievable time-sink MMOG known as World of Warcraft. This being my first 'serious' experience with MMOG (and yes, I'm one of those non-hardcore players who dove in after reading about it in the New York Times), I'm bound to have some observations.
Here's the first: In life, as in Warcraft, we humans 'level-up'--we become older, more experienced as we move through life over time. However, unlike in the MMOG world, aging and gaining experience in real life does not ensure increased wisdom, skill and accomplishment. While Warcraft characters inevitably become stronger, wiser, more skillful and powerful as they age, we humans have the ability to grow older while getting no better at 'the game of life' due to laziness, apathy, fear, or any number of other excuses.
If only life held the same guarantees as Warcraft...
“99 Out of 100” or “The Last 1%”
While raking leaves the other day, I was thinking about “the last one percent.”
Raking leaves, like much physical labor, is all about the most effective use of movement. In a sense, you could say it's about minimizing movement--getting the work done as quickly as possible with the least amount of effort. Engaged in this task, you think about things like the optimal pattern in which to rake the yard, how many times you bend to fill each wheelbarrow, etc.
So, in the process of minimizing my movements, I began thinking about “the last one percent,” or more informally, “just how clean does the yard need to be?” Do I pick up every single leaf? Do I pick up 90% of the leaves? 95%? 99%?
Of course, getting every leaf would only be possible through extraordinary (and foolish) effort … just as removing every drug dealer from the streets would be possible only at astronomical cost of money and human life ... just as guaranteeing that no person would ever again die in a car accident would make automobiles impossibly expensive and impractical to drive … choose any example you'd like. One hundred percent is the limit--the conceptual goal never to be realized but only to be approached. How close one gets depends on the cost one is willing to pay. This seems to be the way that the natural world operates.
However, I can think of situations when this “principle” is turned on its head. For example, in my business, housing, it seems that the last 1% of construction cost is where you really add the most perceived customer value. You can build a great building, with strong architectural integrity, intelligent planning, etc., but if the surface finishes in the kitchens and bathrooms aren't appealing, no one will buy. The other 99% of the building has to be built … there's no way around it. But without that last 1% of quality, the other 99% becomes much less valuable.
Another counter-example … something I've written about before, “the bottom of the bowl.” When you eat a salad, or a bowl of pasta, or whatever, the stuff that collects in the bottom is the best tasting stuff.
You hear the aphorisms, “god is in the details” or “the devil is in the details,” imploring us to be detail-oriented. You taste the stuff at the bottom of the bowl and realize how good it is. And yet nature and human social structures seem to operate in a way that makes attaining the last 1% impractical, even foolish.
I must think about this more … I can't yet reconcile these two interpretations.
While raking leaves the other day, I was thinking about “the last one percent.”
Raking leaves, like much physical labor, is all about the most effective use of movement. In a sense, you could say it's about minimizing movement--getting the work done as quickly as possible with the least amount of effort. Engaged in this task, you think about things like the optimal pattern in which to rake the yard, how many times you bend to fill each wheelbarrow, etc.
So, in the process of minimizing my movements, I began thinking about “the last one percent,” or more informally, “just how clean does the yard need to be?” Do I pick up every single leaf? Do I pick up 90% of the leaves? 95%? 99%?
Of course, getting every leaf would only be possible through extraordinary (and foolish) effort … just as removing every drug dealer from the streets would be possible only at astronomical cost of money and human life ... just as guaranteeing that no person would ever again die in a car accident would make automobiles impossibly expensive and impractical to drive … choose any example you'd like. One hundred percent is the limit--the conceptual goal never to be realized but only to be approached. How close one gets depends on the cost one is willing to pay. This seems to be the way that the natural world operates.
However, I can think of situations when this “principle” is turned on its head. For example, in my business, housing, it seems that the last 1% of construction cost is where you really add the most perceived customer value. You can build a great building, with strong architectural integrity, intelligent planning, etc., but if the surface finishes in the kitchens and bathrooms aren't appealing, no one will buy. The other 99% of the building has to be built … there's no way around it. But without that last 1% of quality, the other 99% becomes much less valuable.
Another counter-example … something I've written about before, “the bottom of the bowl.” When you eat a salad, or a bowl of pasta, or whatever, the stuff that collects in the bottom is the best tasting stuff.
You hear the aphorisms, “god is in the details” or “the devil is in the details,” imploring us to be detail-oriented. You taste the stuff at the bottom of the bowl and realize how good it is. And yet nature and human social structures seem to operate in a way that makes attaining the last 1% impractical, even foolish.
I must think about this more … I can't yet reconcile these two interpretations.
It makes my caffeinated heart sing to know that there are many cafes and coffeehouses out there who can make an espresso drink 100x better than Starbucks. Here are two: Gimme! Coffee and Espresso Vivace. And I'm not so bad myself.
Mr. Micawber was waiting for me within the gate, and we went up to his room (top story but one), and cried very much. He solemnly conjured me, I remember, to take warning by his fate; and to observe that if a man had twenty pounds a-year for his income, and spent nineteen pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence, he would be happy, but that if he spent twenty pounds one he would be miserable. After which he borrowed a shilling of me for porter, gave me a written order on Mrs. Micawber for the amount, and put away his pocket-handkerchief, and cheered up.
Reading this article today made me think:
I live in a city with no population growth, no job growth; a city attempting to find its future. "Turning the economy around" in a city like this is a monumental effort. The last thing people here want to think about is all-encompassing social and economic change. They just want to know their job will be around next year.
With the income gap in this county widening, and many Americans going deeper into debt, one must ask the question: Is there a way to operate an economy that does not require growth? ...that does not require constant increases in consumer spending? ...that does not require those of lower income levels to go into debt so they may exist at the same standard of living as their neighbors?
I live in a city with no population growth, no job growth; a city attempting to find its future. "Turning the economy around" in a city like this is a monumental effort. The last thing people here want to think about is all-encompassing social and economic change. They just want to know their job will be around next year.
With the income gap in this county widening, and many Americans going deeper into debt, one must ask the question: Is there a way to operate an economy that does not require growth? ...that does not require constant increases in consumer spending? ...that does not require those of lower income levels to go into debt so they may exist at the same standard of living as their neighbors?
Sometimes you feel good about who you are.
Sometimes you don't feel good about who you are.
Sometimes someone you love makes you feel good about who you are.
Sometimes you accomplish something, and it makes you feel good about who you are.
Sometimes, someone else's asinine behavior makes you feel good about who you are.
"... Fully imagined cultural futures were the luxury of another day, one in which 'now' was of some greater duration. For us, of course, things can change so abruptly, so violently, so profoundly, that futures like our grandparents' have insufficient 'now' to stand on. We have no future because our present is too volatile. ... We have only risk management. The spinning of the given moment's scenarios. Pattern recognition."
Little Sally:
What is Urinetown?
Urinetown is here!
It's the "town" wherever
People learn to live in fear
So look around, you've finally found
The place you asked about
For Urinetown is your town
If you're hopeless down and out!
What is Urinetown?
Urinetown is here!
It's the "town" wherever
People learn to live in fear
So look around, you've finally found
The place you asked about
For Urinetown is your town
If you're hopeless down and out!
If there is one thing I believe, it is that enterprise is only of value when it is fulfilling some real human need. (Of course, the needs of some are the desires of others, but that is a matter of perception, and another discussion altogether.) For example, the only reason to build a building is to meet the needs of those who would inhabit that building.
There are exceptions to this notion. Specifically, I believe that sometimes the results of enterprise, often "things"--buildings, cities, institutions, can become nobler than the people who inhabit or use them. In my case, I see a city that deserves better inhabitants--a population that lives a life noble and worthy of the city's beauty and gifts. The bones and spirit of the city cry out for people who live up to its glorious past and its current potential.
There are exceptions to this notion. Specifically, I believe that sometimes the results of enterprise, often "things"--buildings, cities, institutions, can become nobler than the people who inhabit or use them. In my case, I see a city that deserves better inhabitants--a population that lives a life noble and worthy of the city's beauty and gifts. The bones and spirit of the city cry out for people who live up to its glorious past and its current potential.
A current thought: Living things exist in a state far from equilibrium. That is, they need a constant stream of matter and energy flowing through them in order to survive. Cities are living things. In an economic sense cities need a similar flow, but it is not matter and energy, it is money. Practically, cities need to produce things that other cities, other countries want. It is a classic example of an export economy, an economy with a trade surplus. Without this city-scale trade surplus, money, the lifeblood of a regional economy, will not flow. Without this flow the city will approach equilibrium. Equilibrium is death.
Many urban cores in America are approaching equilibrium.
Many urban cores in America are approaching equilibrium.
Because I never have, and admittedly to brag a little bit, I'd like to record my commuting habits for the span of my professional career so far:
- 1996-1997: Took a five-minute bus ride to work downtown from the in-town neighborhood where I lived.
- 1998: Walked five blocks to work (lived downtown, worked downtown).
- 1999-2000: "Reverse-commuted" (against the main flow of rush-hour traffic) 15 minutes by car; lived in an in-town neighborhood and worked in a first-ring suburb. My wife took a commuter rail line to work (20 minutes).
- 2000-2002 (graduate school): Lived downtown and took a sub-10-minute bus ride (or walked) to campus. My wife took the same bus ride to work.
- 2003: Lived downtown, walked 20 minutes (2/3 mile) to work in another part of downtown.
- 2003-current: Live in a first-ring suburb, take commuter light-rail (25 minutes) to work downtown.
To date, I have never commuted more than 25 minutes (travel time) one-way to work, no matter the mode of transport. I've always had a goal of avoiding or minimizing automobile commuting to the greatest degree possible, and so far I haven't done too poorly. I must admit, I'm proud of this--hope I can keep it up.
- 1996-1997: Took a five-minute bus ride to work downtown from the in-town neighborhood where I lived.
- 1998: Walked five blocks to work (lived downtown, worked downtown).
- 1999-2000: "Reverse-commuted" (against the main flow of rush-hour traffic) 15 minutes by car; lived in an in-town neighborhood and worked in a first-ring suburb. My wife took a commuter rail line to work (20 minutes).
- 2000-2002 (graduate school): Lived downtown and took a sub-10-minute bus ride (or walked) to campus. My wife took the same bus ride to work.
- 2003: Lived downtown, walked 20 minutes (2/3 mile) to work in another part of downtown.
- 2003-current: Live in a first-ring suburb, take commuter light-rail (25 minutes) to work downtown.
To date, I have never commuted more than 25 minutes (travel time) one-way to work, no matter the mode of transport. I've always had a goal of avoiding or minimizing automobile commuting to the greatest degree possible, and so far I haven't done too poorly. I must admit, I'm proud of this--hope I can keep it up.
Do not let what you know, or what you think you know, get in the way of what you see right in front of your eyes.
Of course there is something to be said for the other side of this notion as well: Do not let casual observation cloud the clarity that can be achieved by a wise combination of what one knows and what one sees. (M)
Of course there is something to be said for the other side of this notion as well: Do not let casual observation cloud the clarity that can be achieved by a wise combination of what one knows and what one sees. (M)
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