Journal : OpenRoadWorks

A new year approaches, another year gone Some battles lost, some victories won, If better angels prevail, as some have said You'll be happy you had the chances you did To laugh, to love, to dream, to smile For family and friends and causes worthwhile. If these words have great fortune to greet The journeys we hope can bring us to meet Together in 2010, then with joy I say, Happy Hanukkah, Chrismas, and New Year's Day!

Hello - today is the last day of September. I always thought this was a special day, not because of a friend's birthday or some holiday celebration but because it has typically signified the turning of a page, the changing of a season. So appropriate, then, that the weather suited itself with its calendar "age" and dressed the day in a cloak of misty sunshine with a low-60's temperature. Fall felt as imminent as the first day of October always signified to me, the march towards Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, New Year's, winter hybernation. But always, it started with that last day in September. What caused this rumination was the fact that I had not written for ages again and was reminded of this fact by those who curiously inquired as to when the next missive would pop up on the web. Since it was the last day of September, and autumn often drifted towards reflection in my youth - after the freshness of school wore off, of course. All these

It seemed appropriate to drop a note on myself, being that it is August and I have not written a blog posting since the passing of our dog Rose over two months ago. See how things are going, update the happenings of a busy summer. Sitting in the atrium of the National Portrait Gallery was inspiring enough to make such a note all the more agreeable to craft, as my schedule has been too energy-sapping to allow for such reflection. There has been the home improvement which led to substantive re-decoration - the townhouse feels like a different residence. There has been the work project which led to a corporate venturing exercise - the job feels like a different occupation, which I suppose prompted the promotion. There has been the quietude of a house without the furry friend, which has almost led to a new dog but not quite (Rose is irreplaceable, after all). There has been all these things and seemingly more that I cannot recount for the moment. But beneath it all, there is a clear feel

Pets have an uncanny ability of ingraining themselves into the fabric of a household, so much so that their disappearance can cause great grief and disorientation to their owners. Such is the case with Rose, who passed from our household on Sunday. An older dog when we took her in to our home last year, Rose was supposedly the runt of her litter, a fact confirmed by her diminutive 5-pound Pomeranian frame - too small for her breed but too big to be classified a "teacup." This suited her just fine, however, as she came to embody a singular personality as a dog among people, often little acknowledging some dogs and appearing frightened by others just as a hesitant human being might act around jumpy canines. Rose embodied all of what defines unconditional love. She was raucous when we would leave the house and even more raucous when we returned, partly due to separation anxiety but mostly due to her sadness and excitement of being around us; she let us know her affection b

Things look flat to me, richness in life abated and replaced by repetition of married adult life. My wife is extraordinary, so it is not an issue of person - it is an issue of internal struggle with satisfaction of the outcomes of the choices I have made to orient my married adult life. Before the married adult life, I had the single life and seemingly endless options, and choices could be made, changed, and remade within days. Now, this time will elapse in years and with the overhang of others factoring into the process, notably my wife and dog. The rub is that I am extremely happy - I would not change this life for all the options in the world. Still, the world is flatter, and I am at a loss for why exactly this perspective change. I am reminded again of that influential book "Seasons of a Man's Life" that I read during business school, which articulates this feeling as a grappling with the phases of adult development . Even with self-awareness of a life's jou

A bunny family for a wonderful easter - amazing to think that Passover and Easter are upon us again (source: Creative Thursday.com) As a child, I often wondered what growing up would be like and how long it would take to get "there" (wherever "there" is). Now, I often wonder what happened to those childhood years, which accelerate much faster into the past than growing up ever seemed to speed into the future. I am reminded of this when I realize that Tax Day is fast approaching when I am still trying to make a small dent in New Year's resolutions. At some point, this minor rumination led me to thinking about my recurring, half-baked creative aspirations. The thought of growing up becomes poignant because it seems that we are always "growing up" to get "there", that magical place where we fully realize ourselves to the pride and admiration of our parents, friends, and other loved ones. It becomes cle

Seat 8B, middle seat right before the exit row. Cramped quarters with non-reclining seat, something familiar to what was once a common occurrence in my days as a management consultant. The band Keane playing on the headset, the game Bejeweled jangling on the portable media player. Something seems to feel the same as what I once knew before, something nostalgic. What happens to us as we age? For some, there is utter resistance, mid-life crises and “boy never grows up” syndromes. For others, there is utter resignation, “wise before your years” and “old soul” designations. For most, there is a waxing and waning between resistance and resignation, resulting in a push-and-pull of youth and age, often settling uneasily at an "up-to-the-minute" current yet ever-evolving state of mind. For me, my settling is into another life far beyond what once was this experience so reminiscent in seat 8B. No longer single but happily married. No longer restless but settled. No longer wan

History parallels the leadership aspirations of generations. The triumphant few who establish the zeitgeist also determine the resulting outcome for their civilizations. The process is constant and ongoing but is revealed most plainly in times of marked change. This current period in world history is shining illustration of this process. We are living through a dynamic period where surreal has become the new reality, best measured in economic results: US stock markets have fallen over 6x faster than long-term growth trends (51% drop in the Dow Jones Index over the last 18 months) Governments have spent trillions of dollars to stabilize results ($787B in the new US government’s American Recovery and Reinvestment Act on top of $700B Troubled Asset Relief Program established by the old US government) Unemployment has increase unabatedly (8.1% in March 2009 for the US economy, double its rate from 10 years ago) World economies have experienced similar impacts nearly simultaneously, from

Numbers don't lie...

Thanks to work, I'm getting accustomed to the drive between Maryland and New Jersey. The path starts on the Washington DC beltway, follows I-95 north past Baltimore and into Delaware, crosses over the Delaware River Bridge and into New Jersey. Follow the New Jersey Turnpike for an interminable stretch of flat, redundant miles, until looping around onto I-287 and up into central New Jersey. 3.5-4 hours door-to-door, not including idle time imposed by a police officer issuing a bogus speeding ticket. But I digres... My wandering thought was spurred from late-night brain drain after a long day that turned deep into the night, followed by this automatic drive that is becoming oh-so-familiar into another long day that drags into the night again. Jumbled entry, to be sure, but the longest day will do that to you. Thank goodness that the weekend is tantalizingly close to take me out of this frame of reference and into a more enjoyable realm with my wife and little dog. So close and yet so

I've been working more from home recently. Generally, I find this a good thing; it saves dry cleaning bills and gas money, is better for the environment, and gives me back the commute time for a little extra sleep and a lot more time to get things done. All in all, it is a good thing - except for the "Mr. Mom" adjustment. My wife is amazing around the house and seems to whip through chores like speed racer; I am more plodding and get distracted easily. This is probably why we are a good team, but now my skills are being put to the test as she has started a new project in downtown DC that requires a lot more hours. Which means that household activities are falling more on me. Don't get me wrong - I am not averse to pulling my own weight; however, it is an adjustment for a reformed bachelor who only recently was able to handle more than one pan on the stove at one time. So, I am learning to wake early to care for Rosie and her "special needs" (she ju

I started the day by learning about two anniversaries that strangely coincide on February 3rd: 1) 50th anniversary of Buddy Holly 's death via plane crash, along with Ritchie Valens and the "Big Bopper" (Jiles Perry Richardson, Jr.) 2) 96th anniversary of Federal Income Taxes, courtesy of the 16th amendment to the US Constitution Upon hearing these anniversaries on National Public Radio, my mind instantly raced to the common expression uttered by Americans: "The only things of which you can be certain in life are death and taxes." Of which, only one of these things was wholly certain before 1913. But thanks to the IRS, that second thing is now nearly a certainty, unless of course you happen to be a prominent Democrat appointed to a Presidential cabinet position. But I digress... What really caught my attention was the subsequent NPR profile of Buddy Holly . His music is but a quaint flicker for today's generation of hip-hop fans and electronica junkies, but

I'm sitting in a meeting right now and simultaneously processing thoughts for a brief post and brainstorming on new products... ...In post, out of post, juggling a couple of mental models, talking about companies, business models, value propositions, all the best of what business lingo can bring... ...Stepped out for a hallway conversation, the Presidential Inauguration, work updates, personal updates, later plans... ...This is how the day comes and goes, wrapping up a meeting, taking stock of the interim steps of the day, projecting to the future, staying present to close out thoughts before packing up and driving home to perform the same mad steps all over again.

Time flies - it's been almost 3 years since my first trip to China and exposure to this most intricate of cultures. And now that I am part of a Chinese family thanks to my wife, I get to join in all of the culture's beautiful celebrations moving forward. This starts with the Chinese New Year, or more broadly the Lunar New Year, which is celebrated all across Asia as the true beginning of the year. It is a time for crazy abundance of firecrackers and the sorts of pyrotechnic displays that would put American Independence Day displays to shame. It is a time for red envelopes and monetary gifts to make the children squeal with glee over the untold riches of candies and toys that those yuan can buy. It is a time for ritual and symbolism regarding fortune, health, and happiness that certain traditions and foods can bring. Above all, it is a time for the greatest migration on the planet, where hundreds of millions of Chinese return home to their families all over the mainland, c

“Which brings me to the third and main reason why this was not just a campaign but it was a movement… and that’s you. Because when I look out across this… this place.... When I look out and see all of you, I think… look at you, you guys are just kids! And maybe it’s because so many of you are so young, or at least young at heart, that you could imagine what had not been done before. You didn’t know any better when people said I couldn’t win. You didn’t understand that that’s not how it is done, when people said, ‘well you can’t raise money over the internet $25 at a time.’ You didn't know, so you just went out and raised money over the internet $25 at a time. Yes we can. [Crowd chanting "yes we can, yes we can..."] “When people said, ‘you know what, you can’t build a grass-roots organization in all 50 states and have people just get on a website and just decide, ‘well, I’m going to vote for Obama and I’m just going to start organizing.’ You’re not suppos

After a weeknight party with the stars (the infamous Youth Ball ) and a weekday fighting to stay alert, I prepared for another night of Presidential Inaugural activities. Sure, the President was out longer than me at his 10 balls vs. my 1 Youth Ball and sure, Obama was working harder than me at helping the economy and repairing America's reputation abroad, but I was determined to keep up with him and attend the final ball, the Obama for America Staff Ball. Over the course of two years of campaigning, hundreds of thousands of volunteers and campaign staffers joined up with the Obama movement and worked to get him elected. On the President's first day in office, his Presidential Inauguration Committee organized a thank-you event for a lucky few thousand of that enormous support crew, complete with open bar, never-ending buffet, and Jay-Z, of all people. Little did I know that this event of seemingly mundane proportion would be the highlight of the Inauguration week and go a

After the momentous Inauguration Ceremony and the mishaps of our delegates on the Mall (witness the Infamous Purple Tickets ), we were poised to experience the upside of Inauguration Day through attending the Youth Ball in the evening, one of the 10 "official" balls where the President would himself make an appearance. Setting context first, the Presidential Inauguration has established a tradition for itself ever since the rise in power of the federal government in the first part of the 20th century, evolving to encompass three major activities in subsequent order: 1) Inauguration Ceremony: a swearing in of the new president at 12pm EDT, followed by the new president's inauguration speech to the citizenry 2) Inauguration Parade: a triumphant march from the Capitol Building to the White House (incidentally moving day for the new President), followed by a processional of marching bands, troupes, and delegations 3) Inauguration Balls: a series of elegant soirees (usually bl

Imagine waking at 4am EDT after falling asleep just three hours before, partially for completing a 5-hour drive through traffic from NYC, partially for staying up to chat with welcoming friends who offered accommodations for fellowship. Imagine joining an early-morning stampede on the Metro, scrambling yet patiently biding lines with 1.7M other revelers clogging every conceivable train, plane, car, bus, bike, and pedestrian route into Washington DC. Imagine facing pre-dawn winds that blustered and drove temperatures well below zero, even if those measured temperatures neglected to measure a bone-rattling wind chill factor. Imagine exiting the Metro to face a wall of revelers, altogether commiserate but undeniably determined to bear witness to the noontime event that would mark a new chapter in American history. Imagine forming a strange brotherhood with same revelers while fighting every inch of advancement to the entrance gate, moving with the grit that some describe wartime front

The Presidential Inauguration events drew me away from my work activities this morning. Living in DC, it is hard to concentrate on the normal tasks at hand, so I set aside my action items and watched the overflowing crowd (over two million strong) on TV. We have a delegate inside, the singer from our wedding , who is braving the cold for an eyewitness account of this amazing moment. "Bearing witness", said one woman on the radio - and she was right. Our delegate left with his "roommate" this morning around 4am; he was able to enter his assigned seating area at 9:45am, where he will eventually take position in the coveted stands (Purple section rules!) at the base of the Capitol Building. The text messages are flying furiously as the event unfolds in the early hours: "Crazy" "still havent moved an inch. weve had a couple of ambulances cause people have freaked out!" As President-elect Obama left the Blair House, received service at St. Thomas Ch

Obama's inauguration is not the only big celebration this week...

I have associated the World Trade Center buildings with New York City ever since my first visit to NYC back in 2001. Those two pillars were a symbol of for what New York City means to the US and to the world, towering above and almost omnipresent in their command of the skyline. Surprising to me and most everyone else that these huge steel monuments to commerce would fall on a beautiful fall morning later that year, left to smolder with the remains of thousands and conjecture what would become of a world considered less safe than before. I was reminded of these thoughts as I worked out of an office that affronted the north end of the once-magnificent buildings. Same brilliant sunshine pierced through the gorges formed by a litany of skyscrapers, but the light was altogether brilliant passing through what once was steel and concrete. Below were the cranes fighting to resurrect what was once so proud, crippled not just by the immense task at hand but by the "politics-as-usual&q

Something is afoot in Washington DC. The town is buzzing in a way that transports me deep into the pages of a Tolstoy epic. Although not nearly as stunning in architecture and geography, I picture DC as St. Petersburg during the Napoleonic Wars and the great balls held at the Winter Palace. I can see the soldiers in green uniform and the women in Empire dresses, both poised for gallantry and yearning for courtship and dancing. I can hear the mindless chatter of the commoners and the cultivated gossip of the social climbers. I can feel the bustle of the court staff and the anticipation of the ball pageantry at the Tsarist court - all of St. Petersburg would have been charged with the candlelight of a thousand souls yearning for excitement, greatness, and intrigue. It is the same in Washington DC as Obama ascends to the presidency. Inaugural committees furiously prepare festivities, FedEx couriers feverishly distribute ball invitations, women nervously fret over their ball gowns, and men

I found this photograph in a book that I donated to charity this past weekend. A couple is pausing to smile upon their dinner salads, likely a happy occasion - these are my parents. The year is somewhere in the early 1970's, before children, before responsibilities, before aging parents, before cell phones. I wondered what might have been the thoughts of that seemingly joyous evening and what conversation topics flowed from this meal. Signs of the times are prevalent - smaller food portions, colorful attire, an ashtray with a cigarette butt inside. But the smiles are the same, many years after. And in those smiles is a deeper connection to what remains, timeless and poignant. I am reminded of a classic yet obscure song from my high school days in the 1990's, a collaboration between REM and Natalie Merchant called Photograph . I am grateful that the pages of a worn book surrendered this treasure - "I found this photograph"...

I am looking out over a clean desk full of promise. Listen for a moment: rhythmic silence. There are house creaks, highway murmur of cars and trucks, but that noise drifts away on the sea that you picture next. Imagine a solid ship conquering the waves rolling before you, standing triumphant over the bow and looking out towards a horizon bursting with shades of blue. Feel for a moment: crisp sea air, some brine peppering your face but a fresh feeling nonetheless. For this moment, imagine unfurling a map that makes perfect sense to you, and upon simple decipher, points the way towards yellow and green mingling with the horizon yonder over bow. And imagine, over that rhythmic silence that sounds like constant waves, upon the bow of a solid ship, crisp sea air refreshing the lungs, the first sight of a beautiful new land emerge in the distance, beautiful blue meets verdant green. This image is heaven to me as I render pure to cleanse the mind and prepare for the day. A quiet morni

Today is a not-so-subtle mix of rain in its various forms (wet, icy, cold, big, small, what have you), and I am trying to scale the mountain of productivity set before me. As the window bears the constant presence of this dreary day, I embrace a slow morning as calm before all the storms that inevitably await me.

2009 is upon us. The holiday decorations have come down - save our tree, which will find its hibernating spot this upcoming weekend. The college football bowl games have all been played - save the mythical national championship game, which is nothing more than an ESPN orgy of soundbytes and commercials. The work pace has quickened with the start of a new year - save no one, incidentally, with barely complaint due to thankfulness for gainful employment by those still in good jobs. There is nothing left to do except remember what resolutions presented themselves to my psyche. Ah yes, the typical ones - health, well-being, fortune, and good luck. The work ones - yearly priorities and commitments for the boss, in writing. The highly personal ones - some not realized until deep in the throes of a peaceful slumber. All these endings and beginnings are a natural part of life. It reminds me of the class that ended my MBA experience in Switzerland, taught by a certain Professor Kohlrieser