Journal:OpenRoadWorks

Saturday Date Night: Winter Tuscan Heartiness

2012-02-12T12:08:00.001-05:00

A new tradition, inspired by our recent trip to New Orleans. After experiencing the distinctive flavors of Cajun cuisine, we decided to make Saturdays a date night where we shop and cook together for a different set of new dishes and new flavors that we have not tried before. First up was cucina toscana, a taste and a place that I look forward to revisiting soon. But on this blustery winter night, we settled for a big pot and an indoor grill at home.

The Tuscan region of Italy is known for rustic foods, earthy ingredients, and flavorful combinations simply prepared. For our first effort, we decided on a winter minestrone with the classic florentine steak. It would have included a preparation of Brussels sprouts, but halfway through our preparation of the minestrone, we realized that it would be more than we would be able to eat.

The minestrone d'inverno, or winter minestrone, is a typical sort of Italian dish, which relies on seasonal, fresh ingredients, where preparation starts with selecting the right ingredients. In the case of winter minestrone, it is a combination of potatoes, carrots, leeks, turnips, Swiss chard, and savoy cabbage, the cabbages being in prime season during the winter months. Particularly for the cabbage varieties, we canvassed the entire fresh produce section of Harris Teeter (our local grocer) and little-by-little found their location, since we have not tried to find them before. We had an interesting experience shopping for turnips, leeks, Swiss chard, and savoy cabbage in assessing their quality and suitability for the dish. This step, however simple, would make the dish, as the preparation later that evening consisted of washing and chopping the combination of ingredients, putting them in a big pot with a some water, bringing the mix to a boil, and then simmering for an hour. The transformation was extraordinary, from an overflowing pot of greens and vegetables where we were concerned there was too little water, to a reducing base of greens swamping the mix, requiring us to take away some of the water that we had originally added beyond the recipe. Then, with further reduction, the mixture became quite green, making us wary of what the outcome might actually produce. Fingers crossed, we got to the end of the simmering period and pureed 3 ladlefuls of the soup, mixed that puree back into the soup, and had our first dish.

The bistecca fiorentina, or florentine steak, was easier and more straightforward. Again, it was a focus on ingredients. We talked to the butcher at the grocery store to cut from a dry-aged t-bone steak, a 1 1/4 inch cut, for the base of the recipe. A true bistecca fiorentina can only come from specific cows in the local region (Chianina cows, to be exact), so we approximated that with the best cut that our local grocer could provide. On our indoor grill, we basically peppered and lightly salted the cut and put it on the grill for 5-6 minutes a side, and placed it on an olive-oil drizzled plate to serve

In the end, the results were in the taste - and it turned out that we made it work. The minestrone was very healthy (basically vegetables, olive oil, salt, and pepper) and surprisingly tasty; the steak was basically meaty goodness, being one of the better quality cuts of beef. Accompanied with a young but sturdy 2005 Brunello di Montalcino, one of the classic bold Tuscan red wines, we were feeling great. It looks like our idea of Saturday date nights was a good one, and I look forward to what new cuisines we will explore this year.

The carnival of it all

2012-02-09T10:19:00.003-05:00

I just returned from New Orleans. Interesting city, which got me thinking - what has become of the cities of our grandparents and great-grandparents? Would they recognize the world in which we live every day? What would they think of it and why?

I ponder these thoughts in relation to wandering Vieux Carre', or the French Quarter, over the course of several days. My first reaction was some level of disappointment. My second reaction was some level of intrigue. My third reaction was some level of comfort in the waves of humanity that have washed over the quarter. My fourth reaction was some feeling of blankness for what the quarter has now become. It led me to read a book on the quarter called Madame Vieux Carre': The French Quarter in the Twentieth Century. I was curious as to what the twentieth century had brought to that part of the city and what life after Hurricane Katrina looked like. In short, fullness to emptiness. Today's quarter is effectively a shell of the past, from 5,000 residents now down to 1,200. From middle-class and working-class "full-timers" to upper-class "part-timers" who come in and out of condos a few times a year. From "sporting people" who mixed discretely with madams and their women in the quarter, to rites of passage for college kids with beads, boobs, and booze. Somehow, the quarter has maintained a certain joie de vivre, which still attracts the same sorts today as it did yesteryear, those who let lascivious pursuits carry them to points of oblivion.

We stayed for the first weekend of Mardi Gras, witnessing the Krewe du Vieux and its "naughty satire" parade by on Royal Street. For a moment, with our masks on, we connected with that feeling, and surrendered for the moment, to something that I'm sure grandparents and great-grandparents would have understood - that feeling of being alive.

Warming Up

2012-01-19T08:48:00.001-05:00

My wife got me a balance ball chair for the home office. As I sit on this bouncy ball and type a morning blog entry before the day gets started, I think about all the potential that the day holds - and how I am inclined to sit a little straighter as I get aligned on the red ball beneath my hips. I shift and tilt, contemplating the next words that I will put down on screen, and I ponder what else I should accomplish today.

I suppose everyone has some sort of routine that governs their life, starting with the morning ritual. I am part of that group that does not really have such a routine, and it's something that I am curious to experiment and change. So, I am typing this entry, sitting on this new chair, and warming up.

100 Entries

2012-01-11T22:31:00.001-05:00

New Year’s 2012 has come and gone. All the resolutions have been cast, and the rituals of starting anew have started to bear their initial fruit. For some, the resolutions have already been cast aside, but that’s not the point – renewal is the thing. And so, with the same feeling of renewal, I return to the blog with the hope of jump-starting a more regular writing schedule.

I have to admit that it can seem daunting, considering my past attempts. Every so often, I gain a spark of inspiration and run with it to produce a string of thoughts that get my creative juices. Then, the spark fizzles. I am left with aspirations unfulfilled, filled again by my domestic life and work life, both of which are highly rewarding and all-consuming.

Yet, there is something more, and so I yearn to discover it this year. It will be a turning point for myself – as every year is, after all – and I look forward to pursue more than career. The goal is 100 entries, and this is the first.

Wallet Fortunes (with some thoughts)

2012-01-11T22:11:00.001-05:00

Let’s start the year with a play on words. It makes extra sense since I am spend my days trying to reduce the need to carry a wallet at all in the future, but today I reached into my back pocket and rifled through the main pouch that holds my driver’s license. I updated my car insurance cards and stumbled upon a treasure trove of choice fortunes that I have collected from years (at this point) or eating out with my wife at any number of Chinese restaurants in the area.

Here they are, in no particular order:

You will inherit a large sum of money (a nice thought, I suppose – who knows if that will be true?)
A thrilling time is in your immediate future (of course! I’m home with Ruby, what else would I need from that?)
You are busy but you are happy. (true that)
Culture and customs of China attract you. (I should hope so, it has made me a wildly happy guy thus far)
You will have no problems in your home. (true, until I forget to put one small plate in the dishwasher…)
You are one of the people who “goes places in life.” (this varies from the home office down the hall to the safari my wife secretly wants to take for our fifth-year anniversary)
You will be successful in your work. (I’m hoping this is true?)
You and your wife will be happy in your life together. (an understatement – probably why there are three of these fortunes in my wallet…)
You will enjoy good health. (fingers crossed – a little more exercise would not hurt)
Life is a tragedy for those who feel and a comedy for those who think. (wait a second – I’m supposed to be inspired by this, not provoked to deep thinking)
Time is money. (Still trying to figure out whether it’s worth a dime or a thousand dollars)

A Plea to FINALLY Address Child Sexual Abuse and Its Victims

2011-11-28T22:35:00.001-05:00

Admittedly, I am biased - I am a de facto Penn Stater. After one of the most trying months on record with the explosive allegations that broke in the mainstream media in early November, Penn State and Joe Paterno have taken a beating. I wrote about the anger and sadness that this caused at the time and still causes upon further reflection; it provoked me to assemble the facts about the "Penn State scandal" that I could in order to truly understand the evolving situation and learn from it.
Then Syracuse happened, incidentally because of the allegations that broke at Penn State. And Jim Boeheim denied that he was Joe Paterno. Admittedly, I had an initial hunger for retribution - if Paterno got fired for not doing enough of the right thing, then Boeheim should definitely be fired for doing nothing at all and further defending a man "he knew could not have possibly done what he had allegedly done".

But this is THE moment to actually reflect on the reports - outside of the stampede of the "raised pitchforks" - and to really learn what we can do to better our society.

And for the sake of this exercise, let's assume that the alleged perpetrators - Jerry Sandusky and Bernie Fine - are guilty (even though neither has had his respective day in court to actually work through the facts - but what does that matter when justice is applied by the "court of public opinion"...).

If the allegations are true, what can we learn?

Sexual abuse for boys is likely more rampant and pervasive than we want to believe
Influential men, like high-ranking coaches, can exploit boys fairly easily
Getting abuse out in the open is quite difficult, due to molester skill and witness vulnerability
Molesters and pedophiles can live for a long time "out in the open" - and even those people closest to them might struggle to suspect that these molesters and pedophiles could commit the acts they are committing
Accusations can come down to "what if that was your son who was abused?" vs. "what if that was your do-good uncle who was accused?" - what side would you more likely believe? And what side would institutions believe?
Teaching boys to say something if situations become strange in any way is the first line of defense - a mere touch of the knee can start what eventually leads to full-on sexual contact
Those boys most vulnerable - at-risk and in foster care - face the greatest threat, and there is usually no one to protect them, even child services (is there anything that can be done for these boys?)
We should expect confusion and denial - the suspects do not usually fit the description that we might have in our heads about molesters and pedophiles
Large institutions - churches, universities, etc. - are not well-equipped to handle molesters and pedophiles amongst their population - perhaps this requires some broader institutional awareness and change than just a few inquiries and new leadership appointments?

If we allow ourselves to step back, we will see that this issue is actually much bigger than a couple of college athletic programs; it's a societal issue exacerbated by our puritanical values, which cause us to want to "cover up" and not talk about the untoward behavior and the harm it causes, particularly to boys. Or more direct, if men are touching or committing acts with the genitalia of young boys, and we cannot create the sort of environment where boys can share this plainly and adults can discuss this reasonably in order to take action against offenders, then we will have lost the opportunity to make life better for children and reduce the number of boys who are sexually abused.

In short, this is not about a Penn State "cover-up" or a Syracuse head basketball coach who should take the fall for inserting both feet in his mouth for callous statements about alleged victims - or even college football teams that should sit out bowl games and seasons because "they just don't get it". This is about recognizing that we have a larger societal problem appreciating, recognizing, and acting upon sexual abuse among boys, for a host of complicated reasons. Unfortunately, the damage at Penn State has already been done, but the alumni are doing something about it, raising almost $500k for the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN).

I donated because it seemed like the right thing to do; I would encourage you to do the same. I have reflected on what we can really learn from this situation because it would seem that child sexual abuse is more common than we probably want to admit - and something good should come out of the crucifying that Penn State and Joe Paterno have undergone. Shame on us, then, for crucifying Syracuse and Jim Boeheim - when will we learn that the real travesty is focusing not on what we might learn to recognize the patterns of sexual abuse but rather on soiling of the reputations of the sort of leaders who we desperately need to raise proper awareness for better addressing and stopping sexual abuse amongst boys in the future?

Simple Pleasures, Small Bites

2011-11-24T10:08:00.001-05:00

Sandwich at Musee d'Orsay, a set on Flickr.

A week ago, I was standing on the steps of the Musee d'Orsay, stretching my legs before tunneling and shuttling on the RER back to the airport for my return flight to the US. I had one last craving to tame, that of taking a bite out of a baguette panini that comes from any number of bars, carts, and patisserie that huddle around trafficked areas in the city. With a jambon fromage in hand, I stood calmly and savored the mixed flavors of a fine sandwich, fulfilling my final wish. And when I was done, I looked around to capture the moment as a personal postcard before heading down the tunnel for catching the commuter train out to the airport.

It was a fitting end to a successful week of reflection - both work and personal - to catapult me through the end of the year. And it is this reflection on a simple panini which is especially appropriate for Thanksgiving - namely, that the simple pleasuress are for what we can all be so thankful.

How to Spend a Sunday

2011-11-20T14:39:00.001-05:00

Thomas and Bettina on a Paris Evening, a set on Flickr.

One week ago, I wandered the Seine on a clear night illuminated by a full moon. Illuminated further, I was returning to my hotel after visiting with friends that I will inevitably spend a lifetime following as we traverse our respective paths. We both converged on Paris, enjoying a fine lunch buffet at Bon and a fine exhibit at the Grand Palais on the Steins (Gertrude et al) collecting artwork of the Parisian avant-garde, in between a perfect walk from Avenue des Champs-Elysees to the Louvre Museum. I reflect to remember that the setting befits the more important point that friendships are worthwhile to cultivate and to affirm in our efforts to connect with the world around us. In short, the perfect sort of blueprint for how to spend a Sunday.

In Search of Lost Time

2011-11-19T08:43:00.001-05:00

Remembrance of evenings past

In the fall of 1998, I arrived in Paris for the first time. As much as the overnight train from Milan dulled my senses, it was exhilirating. The world opened in front of me, one of the world's great cities unfurling itself, the menus and the language and the people and the movements of those who were living their Parisian lives before me, just another backpacker passing through.

I reflected on those days this week as I returned to Paris, this time for work and a trade show. It is no longer a new city to me; I have lost count on the number of returns to the city but estimate perhaps 7-8 by this point. In many ways, the city has changed - it is much friendlier to English speaker, I am much better versed in traversing foreign cities, and the fast-growing metropolises in Asia which I have since visited make Paris feel older and less dynamic. But more poignant, I have changed. Of course, I am no longer a young student in terms of my backpacking days, but the extent of change is greater and more profound; I am also no longer young in terms of my world weariness. When the world was "newer" to me, the sights, tastes, and smells were more intoxicating, like the awakening of a baby to the greatness of the world outside the womb. Now, it is better understood and more common.

Perhaps the reflection has more to do with the special sanctity of the Parisian walks that I have experienced several times over the course of my visits to this city and the revelries they have produced. I had returned in 1999 and stayed with an Italian girl with fantastically curly hair; as she worked at UNESCO during the day, I would walk the streets and discovermuseums and arrondissement; we would then meet for dinner and then encounter the socialadventures of the night, when Paris duly earns its moniker "City ofLights". I recall one morning whenI ventured out to Versailles and reveled in the baroque lavishness of King Louis XIV,a topic that I devoured in an European History class that filled my lastquarter at university and propelled me to graduate early and head back toEurope. As I sat on a park bench in thegardens of Versailles, breezing through "Old Man and the Sea" andallowing my gaze to wander onto the great golden fountain at the center of thegrounds, I was swept into an inspiration to craft a short story, a gift toGabriella for her hospitality and shared moments in the city. She was enchanted upon reading it thatevening, and it led to building collective dreams of creative pursuits and tocapturing the essence of the moments we shared in that maid's quarter highabove the rue. This reflection with somany others ordered my understanding of what magic Paris could propose andreveal in just a few short hours.

I enjoyed similarwalks this week, if now only to stretch my legs; and as a sentimentalist, Ilingered over some spots that once enchanted me. In most instances, the spots are still there- a bar tucked away on the Left Bank behind Notre Dame, St. Sulpice, thevintage bookstalls along the Seine. Butas my feet carried me by habit through the same paths that once held my sway, Ifelt as if I was chasing ghosts that I could not grasp. The spirit of my student days was but a wispencircling certain spots that held such vigor only a short decade ago.

Of course, Paris isstill a lovely city. It reminds me to bemore artistic and to capture the inspiration that such ambulatory reflectionstrigger. I also think of what connectionthis matured view has with the wild-eyed view of myself as the backpacker. Alas, in chasing my own ghosts, I also was insearch of lost time (yes, the reference to Proust is appropriate andintentional), realizing that the melancholy of youth's evaporation is more acelebration of the journey that triumphantly returned me to the same butdifferent place, better for the wear and more tuned to celebrate revelries thathave shaped a richer worldview.

Putting the Pieces Together

2011-11-14T06:30:00.000-05:00

The last week has been interesting to say the least. A few days ago, I shared what many in the Penn State community feel but might not have been reported by the national sports media like ESPN, Sports Illustrated, Sporting News, CBS Sports, and others. I will not link away to those sources as I have become convinced that articles and "thought pieces" from the likes of most of their writers are a bit tainted by the visceral emotion of the whole affair. It makes for dramatic reading, but it does little to help sort out this mess.

As a side note, there is one well-articulated article worth reading, which is Joe Posnasky's piece, "The End of Paterno". Joe Posnasky, incidentally, was working on a biography about Joe Paterno over the last couple of years, which will now likely end up as a seminal work on Paterno from start to finish when it publishes some time in 2012 or 2013 (likely after criminal proceedings finish).

In the meantime, for my own sanity, I have decided to collect together a number of data points as I try to understand what has just transpired; it's grown into a long list (that has grown a little bit more as I have reflected additionally on Nov 14th). For the record:

The Travesty

The events captured in the grand jury report, if true and hold up in the court of law (and will finally have their day in court starting on Dec 7th - now pushed to Dec 13th, it appears), are atrocious and tough reading
If true, justice will never be served for those victims, no matter what and how much is done to rectify the situation

Jerry Sandusky's background

Jerry Sandusky was a football coach at Penn State for 30 years, from 1969 to 1999; 23 of those years, he was the defensive coordinator and considered one of the finest in the game
Jerry Sandusky was known in the community as someone who was a champion for under-privileged youth long before the charges were brought to light
Jerry Sandusky started the foundation The Second Mile in 1977 with proceeds from a book he published on coaching the linebacker position; the foundation was started as a group foster home for children from broken homes and grew into a state-wide foundation that promotes its aid to 100,000 children annually across Pennsylvania and now into neighboring states; the Second Mile has a board that reads like the "who's who" of Pennsylvania business, politics, and sports, either actively involved or material donors to The Second Mile at some point in time
Jerry Sandusky was once lavishly praised for this work with children and The Second Mile by general observers and several writers from notable media outlets
Jack McCallum, a veteran writer at Sports Illustrated, said as much about Sandusky and The Second Mile, with regret, in an article on Nov 8th that he wrote about Jerry Sandusky back in 1999
Bill Lyon, a long-time writer at the Philly Inquirer, headlined that Camelot was brought down, although in 1999 he also piled on the superlatives for Sandusky's work, as the "pied piper of his time" for what he had done for disadvantaged youth (Slate examined this point here)
Jerry Sandusky also adopted six children of his own
Due to his own adopted family and his tireless efforts with The Second Mile, Jerry Sandusky often had children around him, which would have been considered a normal occurrence for Sandusky, as the articles from McCallum and Lyon also noted
Jerry Sandusky is accused of committing 40 acts on 8 victims as detailed in the grand jury report over the period of roughly 1995 to 2008; a ninth victim whose story is not recounted in the grand jury report came forward after the news went mass-market, and newest reports from one or two news outlets suggest there could be more victims coming forward

The First Reported Incident in 1998

Sandusky's first reported incident in the grand jury testimony around wrongdoing occurred in 1998, while he was still the defensive coordinator at Penn State
In this episode, Sandusky showered after a supposed workout at a football facility with an 11-year-old boy, whose wet hair upon arriving home triggered the victim's mother to contact University Police
In May 1998, University Police eavesdropped on two conversations between the mother and Sandusky; Sandusky admitted showering, potentially coming into contact with the boy while naked, and commenting, "I wish I were dead"
Sandusky admitted to wrongdoing with University Police, which appeared to trigger further investigation by the Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare into the incident
In June 1998, as part of the subsequent investigation, Sandusky was told by an investigator in the Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare not to shower with any child again
It can be assumed that if an University Police detective eavesdropped on the mother's calls and concluded in its findings that a Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare investigator needed to get involved, as mentioned in the grand jury testimony, that both the university and the state had some records associated with this incident - and that the incident warranted noticeable attention
It was not clear if the Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare took any additional action except to admonish Sandusky's actions; for instance, it was not clear if Sandusky was put on a "watch list", if The Second Mile was notified, or if Sandusky was "written up" by the university
It was not stated in the grand jury recording who from the university was told about this incident, and it was not stated if Joe Paterno knew about the specifics of this incident; it can be assumed that there are procedures that are undertaken for documenting, reporting, and archiving such investigations, particularly if University Police detectives were involved
However, it was stated in the grand jury recording that Gary Schultz, SVP of Finance and Business for Penn State, knew about the 1998 incident and the investigation done by the Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare; he stated this in relation to inquiries about the 2002 reported incident. This admission would make it safe to assume that there was some awareness of the 1998 incident at the university as well as the subsequent state actions taken
Purely speculation until more facts/details are exposed- regarding this episode, it is hard to believe that more action was not taken with the evidence collected and presented of the event; this was handled by authorities who should have had the ability to act independent of the university on the events that transpired, as this appeared to be under both state and university jurisdiction according to the authorities involved. It is possible that more follow-up was not taken due to Sandusky's reputation or position on the football team - or not; it is also possible that more follow-up was not taken due to intervention by the athletic department or the university - or not. It is also possible to assume that someone like Paterno, even if not told directly and explicitly about the 1998 reported incident, would know about the incident from, at the very least, ongoing contact with Sandusky, but also from the normal coming-and-going within the State College community

Jerry Sandusky's retirement in 1999

Jerry Sandusky retired Penn State in 1999
Grand jury testimony related a meeting with Joe Paterno in May 1999 where Sandusky was "emotionally upset" about being told he would not be the next head coach at Penn State and which preceded his retirement; Sandusky shared this in some capacity with victim #4, who arguably received the most abuse (my measure, based on number of accounts and vulgarity of account descriptions), according to the grand jury testimony
Purely speculation until more facts/details are exposed - regarding this event, it is possible that Paterno might have asked Sandusky to leave the program in connection to the 1998 episode and that he was not fit to continue as defensive coordinator at Penn State based on the events and outside investigation - or not; it is then possible to assume that Paterno knew about the 1998 incident - or not. It is possible that Joe decided to continue coaching for a long time (which he did), and that prior promises to Sandusky of being a "coach-in-waiting" were reneged - or not. It is possible that Paterno acted on his own accord to punish Sandusky for his actions in 1998 and remove him from the university and program - or not. It is possible that none of these scenarios explain the event and that other circumstances came into play for the decision. In any case, here is a blog post that I found where additional facts and speculation on the Sandusky retirement were opined; the author came to his own conclusions, which I cannot validate based on my limited knowledge of the facts

The Second Reported Incident in 2002

Sandusky's second reported incident in the grand jury testimony around wrongdoing occurred in 2002, after he was retired and no longer part of Joe Paterno's staff
Important note: Sandusky no longer worked for Joe Paterno, the athletic department, or the university at this point, so he would be considered an external party, even if he was familiar to university personnel and had emeritus status (Sandusky received this as part of his 1999 retirement package for 30 years of service)
In this episode, Mike McQueary claimed to witness Sandusky performing a sexual act with a boy; it was not ascertained the age of the boy as there was apparently no attempt to find out who the boy was, but it was guessed that he was 10 years old
Mike McQueary claimed to hear sounds from the shower and then proceeded to peek into the shower where he saw the act as it was taking place
Mike McQueary took no immediate action in that situation to stop the act, except to "leave immediately, distraught"
Mike McQueary's next action was to go to his office at the school and call his father, who advised him to talk to Joe Paterno; Mike McQueary did not call the police or report the incident to authorities besides Paterno, as far as the grand jury testimony states
Mike McQueary did not appear to call Joe Paterno until the next day, after he stayed the night with his father. Presumably, Paterno took McQueary's call the next day, accepted McQueary into his home, and then heard recount of what occurred the night before
Paterno testified that McQueary was upset. It was not reported in the grand jury testimony what McQueary said to Paterno, only that McQueary was upset.
Paterno called Tim Curley after receiving McQueary's account; Curley, Paterno's immediate superior at Penn State, met with Paterno in person at Paterno's house the day after Paterno talked to McQueary. The testimony states that Paterno shared with Curley that McQueary had seen Sandusky in the football locker room with a young boy, "fondling or doing something of
The chronology then follows that Paterno met separately with Curley and Schultz regarding the incident; Schultz testified that he was called to a meeting with Curley and Paterno, which suggests that Paterno talked with Curley again about what he had heard with McQueary (which Paterno reported as "disturbing" and "inappropriate" conduct in the testimony), now escalated to a higher-ranking administrator in Schulz, who also managed University Park Police (which had jurisdiction over the incident)
The grand jury testimony also notes that around 10 days after the weekend meetings at Paterno's house (the McQueary-Paterno face-to-face on Saturday and the Curley-Paterno face-to-face on Sunday) and subsequent to Paterno's meeting with Curley and Schultz , Mike McQueary met face-to-face with Tim Curley and Gary Schultz to formally report the incident; Paterno was not present. At this meeting, McQueary apparently did share that he witnessed Sandusky in a sexual act with a boy in the shower involving Sandusky, to which Curley and Schultz agreed that they would "look into it"
At this point in the grand jury testimony, there is uncertainty expressed by Schultz, that he was "very unsure" about what he remembered McQueary telling him and Curley, that Schultz had the impression that "Sandusky might have inappropriately grabbed the young boy's genitals while wrestling" in the shower and agreed it was inappropriate sexual conduct between a man and a boy
However, Schultz conceded that McQueary reported inappropriate sexual conduct by Sandusky to him; at the same time, Schultz testified that he judged the acts were "not that serious" and that Schultz "had no indication that a crime had occurred", an assessment he shared with Curley
As part of the grand jury testimony, it appeared that Schultz was pressed to admit that sodomy would be clearly inappropriate behavior - which he did admit; Schultz then denied that such conduct was reported to him in either his meeting with Paterno or his meeting with McQueary
The resulting actions were unclear at best - Schultz agreed with Curley that Sandusky should not bring any more "Second Mile" children into the football building and believed that he and Curley asked the "child protection agency" (can assume the reference was to the Pennsylvania Department of Child Welfare) to look into the case, which Schultz admitted was a similar case to the 1998 incident; in a subsequent statement in the grand jury testimony, Schultz believed the "child protection agency" was investigating what McQueary reported, which could be interpreted to mean that Schultz already thought the agency was investigating. At the least, the statements are confusing; at the most, the statements are conflicting and suggest that action was not only not taken but also potentially not intended to be taken. In this regard, Schultz's testimony is the most troubling because he asserted that investigation should have been or was already being conducted, but he communicated on record that he did not believe there was wrongdoing. The culmination of this testimony is what likely triggered the perjury charge
Tim Curley was largely silent in the grand jury testimony, so it is difficult to determine his contributions, but he does appear complicit in his actions alongside Schultz based on repeated exposure to the reported incident from both Paterno and McQueary
Graham Spanier noted his "extensive responsibilities" at Penn State in the grand jury testimony and the trust that he placed in Tim Curley and Gary Schultz to handle their responsibilities; he noted that Curley and Schultz did not indicate a plan to report the incident to authorities, which did not match with Schultz's statement
Spanier noted that he was not aware of the 1998 incident, which can be interpreted anywhere along the continuum between unevenness from university personnel in the knowledge of the previous incident to neglect of recognition from university personnel of the prior reporting

Reflections on what I have gathered thus far

Child sexual abuse is powder keg of an issue - it's so emotionally charged that reasonable people cannot calm themselves sufficiently to entertain civil discourse
The scandal might involve a former college football assistant coach but is not really about college football at all - the facts suggest it is really about a lack of institutional action related to child sexual abuse, making this a Penn State or institutional issue rather than an NCAA college football issue; there is a great article on Slate from a victim who reveals his abuse in a powerful way to reflect upon the issue of abuse generally as it applies to discovering its occurence in any organization
Outsiders to Penn State have had a difficult time appreciating the impact that Joe Paterno has had on the university, which goes far beyond the football field; this adds further emotional dimension to this story and leads to several misinterpretations of the reactions that the Penn State community has had to Joe Paterno's firing
Now that some journalists are actually reporting on Jerry Sandusky, they are finding that he was an extremely selfless man to outside - and even inside - observers; Sandusky's former reputation would not have created the impression that he was capable of the sorts of alleged acts found in the grand jury testimony
It is hard to ascertain how well that the University administration and college football staff knew about Sandusky and his alleged illicit activities with children - the immense success of The Second Mile and Sandusky's active involvement with the charity provided a good decoy for hiding his alleged behavior
We might not be done with charges brought forward against Sandusky, as he has been involved with children since 1977 - effectively another 20 years of time where incidents could have occurred and might still come forward (this is pure speculation - I have no sources or facts to suggest one way or the other except for the comments above, although new charges have been filed as of Nov 22nd which now include minors)
It is curious and coincidental timing that Sandusky's retirement came one year after the first reported incident and that the stats and results for Sandusky's defensive squads were still fairly good leading up to his retirement; it makes it easy to conclude that the 1998 incident might have contributed to Sandusky's seemingly early retirement, but I have do not have additional sources or facts to suggest one way or the other
It is also curious and coincidental timing that Sandusky's allegations ranged from 1994-2008, with some decent concentration happening around and after his retirement in 1999 (note the unreported incident from the grand jury report in 2000); it is conceivable that his sadness/anger/other feelings from retiring from PSU drove him to intensify his alleged activities with The Second Mile children. Again, I do not have additional sources or facts to suggest one way or another
Joe Paterno, it can be argued, made a mistake in not further digging in to the 2002 incident; it is difficult to determine from the grand jury report why he was not more assertive, since it appears that he had enough information, even if Mike McQueary did not share the whole view, to take more concern for ensuring the situation got handled (the grand jury testimony did note McQueary's "upset" nature from what he saw). It is difficult to piece together, however, if McQueary shared the more explicit details of what he witnessed, which might have caused Paterno to take a different tact with the incident; this appears to be a hotly debated point amongst observers. It should also be stated that Paterno did follow up with Curley not once but twice, with the second time including Curley and Schultz, who was a higher ranking official that had the ability conduct a police investigation. Since Paterno did follow through with Curley in an escalation from the initial meeting, it is plausible that Paterno might have followed up additional to those meetings after the incident was reported to him (since he did follow up once within a week of the incident, as documented in the grand jury report), but I do not have additional sources or facts to suggest what else transpired
Speculation surrounds the long-standing relationship that Paterno might have had with Sandusky (they worked together for 30 years) and the potential protection Paterno might have provided to keep Sandusky from harm, but I do not have additional sources or facts to suggest one way or another. It is worth nothing that a couple of sources mentioned the challenges that Sandusky and Paterno faced working together in the end. It is worth mentioning as well, in the context of the 2002 incident, that Sandusky was no longer working for Paterno or the university, for that matter. Additionally, the facilities where the incident happened were under the control of the athletic department - not Paterno - and the responsibility for following through on such an incident was with Curley and Schultz - not Paterno
To the last point, Gary Schultz made a bigger mistake in not following through on the investigation that he presumed was going on; since he both knew about the 1998 incident (according to his testimony in the grand jury report) and had authority over the University Police department (which would have had the proper jurisdiction and investigation resources to apply), he was in the best position with the best set of data points to initiate a more thorough investigation or to ensure that an investigation was carried out
Tim Curley and Graham Spanier did not appear to respond to the allegations in any material way, according to the grand jury testimony; it is hard to ascertain how much they knew or did not know, but it is relatively clear they were briefed on the 2002 incident (in Curley's case, three times) and not active in following through on the information presented to them
Graham Spanier's testimony particularly cast him as an aloof administrator who did not get involved in much of the incident at all; this can be interpreted as an academic sitting in his "ivory tower" or someone who felt that leadership was sufficient in the athletic department to be able to handle this on its own
It is worth reiterating, in contemplating the events, that Jerry Sandusky was no longer an employee of Penn State at the time of the 2002 incident; it might have been assumed that it was not the role of the university and more the role of The Second Mile (where he was a leading figure of the foundation) to act upon the transgressions. I can appreciate the "grey area" in jurisdiction although it is not an excuse not to follow through, at the very least, on an investigation
From the facts that I have been able to gather, the biggest mistake was not ensuring that the Pennsylvania Department of Child Welfare was notified, much less encouraged to complete a subsequent investigation of the 2002 reported incident; based on chain of command, Gary Schultz should have ensured this happened, at least gotten formal confirmation that it was underway, as noted above. I believe this point, along with the perjury charges for Curley and Schultz, are the most troubling items relative to the trial that will play out starting Dec 7th, and I would assume that fault will be assigned to both these actions
Regardless, there are a number of data points, when pieced together, that can be built up into several plausible scenarios in terms of events unfolding, actions taken by the parties involved, and outcomes. For instance, it is possible that Paterno was initially involved to "force" Sandusky's retirement after the first reported incident in 1998 so that his issues were no longer issues associated with the university. It is possible that University administration did not feel they were in a position to take more concerted action with Sandusky after the 2002 reported incident because he was no longer an employee of Penn State. It is possible that those involved, who knew Sandusky for several decades, could not believe or fathom that such horrific events could and would be happening; the reputation of The Second Mile was stellar, and Sandusky was considered a "saint" by many who knew him. It is possible that there was a cover-up. It is possible that colleagues were protecting a long-time colleague from harm and legal action. It is possible that there was inaction based on lack of clarity on jurisdiction - was this an athletic department issue, a Penn State issue, or a Second Mile issue when it was reported in 2002? Without working through more of the data points, it is difficult to determine which scenario painted the true picture of what happened, and subsequently, what corrective action to take
Penn State University has handled the fall-out of the scandal in a way unbecoming of the roles of the parties involved, against the judicial process (it is troubling when the Pennsylvania Attorney General voices concern over the firing of a cooperating witness), and in snap reaction. For instance, Paterno could have grounds, as the facts lay out and stand as of today, for defamation of character and wrongful termination from the university. I don't think Paterno would do such a thing based on his prior track record, but this is not out of the realm of possibilities. Also, it is puzzling to me why Paterno would be fired and not Tim Curley (he is still technically employed by Penn State, just on "administrative" leave of absence); it is also puzzling why Schultz, who would appear to have the most troubling testimony in the grand jury report, was allowed to retire without any sort of additional recourse or inquiry. It is possible that potential legal recourse is what has delayed the termination or recourse regarding Curley and Schultz, but this has not been communicated through any channel. What is more straightforward is that McQueary is in a very difficult spot as someone who saw the incident and reported it, yet is being vilified almost as much as Paterno because it would not "seem fair" to fire Paterno and then not also fire McQueary. The only clear outcome is that the "court of public opinion" is a strong force that requires reckoning and that the national media, when empowered, makes it hard to "take the microphone" and intelligently sort out what is right and prudent vs. what is easiest to appease and "make it go away"
It would be fair to chalk up Joe Paterno's vilification to the fact that he was held to a higher standard by the values that he carried throughout his life. If he was another person or another coach, he would not have been the focal point of this story (witness Jim Boeheim and the Syracuse University child abuse scandal that is now breaking, courtesy of the awareness raised by the situation at Penn State). He surely made mistakes, but I believe the price he will pay in terms of the tarnishing of his reputation will be far greater than the transgressions he might have committed by not fulfilling his "moral obligations"
It would also be fair to state that the course of events might lead to additional collateral damage for the Penn State football program, starting from a "forced exit" scenario for the existing coaching staff up to a "death penalty" for the program that could be imposed by the NCAA. In the context of the other reflections, this is an additional travesty as many of these people have neither knowledge nor connection to the events that transpired, and their careers might be tarnished through no fault of their own
Ultimately, the overall situation begs the provocative questions that we can each reflect upon: how would we handle a situation where a long-time associate/friend has been implicated in an alleged crime - how far would we go in reporting them for potential misconduct or protecting them from harm? How would we go about resolving the situation, "following the rules" that govern such matters or acting beyond established policies and procedures? What determines what is the right thing to do and how to go about doing the right thing when you have influence and standing but not formal power within a larger organization? These are tough questions and ones that really test our character, mettle, and loyalty to friends

What I have learned from the scandal and subsequent series of events

Child sexual abuse is a heinous crime and is not tolerated by our society
Child sexual abuse can happen anywhere, even at "pristine" Penn State
Child sexual abuse is sometimes hard to recognize, particularly with young boys, based on the commonly-held views of males and sexuality, the challenges boys and men might have communicating such offenses, and sometimes the nature of the individuals that commit the transgressions (Sandusky could be classified as a "nice guy" molester, if he is found guilty)
If you see something, say something - and in some cases, this might not be enough (witness McQueary and Paterno)
Doing what is right can be difficult and fundamentally test your character - it is something we must all aspire to achieve, even in the face of adversity
Don't trust the media to tell a complete story - they are not really paid to do this anyway (watch Good Night and Good Luck if you would like further context), and their desire for headlines trumps their search for the truth, in most instances

I'm sure as the events further unfold, we will learn more to better understand what happened, how, and why; I intend to fill in the facts as they come out to round out the picture. At this point, I am starting to move beyond the raw emotion phase and to accept that the world has changed and that Penn State has changed with it; this is all inevitable. Moving forward, I really hope we can allow our more thoughtful sides to contemplate the actual situation, to address the root causes and contributors to the events that transpired, and not to let the "hot heads" on all sides drive the bus. Because we have already gone off the cliff, and the damage done is now much greater than it had to be.

The Shadows of Greatness

2011-11-09T00:45:00.000-05:00

Paterno coaching in his prime in the late 1960's

I grew up watching Penn State football. This was because my father grew up on Penn State. We have a family of Penn Staters, across my own family but also grandfather, great uncles, cousins, and others - several of which studied, taught, and still live in State College.

For Penn State, college football and academics go together. This was the life's work of Joe Paterno, a Brown graduate and star quarter back and cornerback (still holds the Brown career interceptions mark) who followed his former coach at Brown, Rip Engle, to central Pennsylvania. Joe was born from a family of Italian immigrants who carried "old world" values and a passion for education. Joe was almost a lawyer, but he found himself drawn to the power, elegance, and teamwork of the all-american gridiron sport, thus becoming a coach.

Penn State was not far removed from being an agricultural school when Joe first arrived in 1950. Since then, he has helped to carry the university into association with the nation's elite, a major research institution that is now part of the illustrious Big Ten, an university that competes across the region for scholars, athletes, and other talented individuals who would have scoffed at the notion of venturing to State College for an education all those years ago.

But 62 years later, 46 of those as the head coach of the college football team, Joe Paterno has literally put Penn State and the surrounding State College community on the map. He has also commanded an outsized role in those results, using his achievements to drive material gains for worthwhile causes. He paved the way for African-American student-athletes to not only get accepted to the university but also to play and to be considered as equals on the team and in the community.  He also fought for defining a greater meaning for student-athletes, that they should excel in both academic and athletic pursuits. This "Grand Experiment" was described as "Success with Honor", the idea that national championships and academic accolades (starting with high graduation rates) can go hand-in-hand. He believed so much in these ideals that he completely committed his life to their pursuit in Happy Valley, marrying a local girl, settling down permanently, and devoting almost all his time, energy, and money to make Penn State the great place that it is today.

The 78% graduation rate of his players. The 80+ All-Americans. The 45+ Academic All-Americans. The 250+ players who went on to play in the NFL. The 409 wins. The 37 bowl games, 24 of which were victories. The Paterno Library, and the $4.5M+ that he has contributed personally to the university.  This is all part of the backstory of a man whose legacy will be challenged by the horrific events allegedly committed by former defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky (the grand jury report covers the charges) and the additional action that Joe did not take that fateful weekend in 2002 when a graduate assistant (a former player at that) presented him with certain information about events that took place between Sandusky and a young boy after hours at a football locker room facility.

I have reflected a lot on the events of the last few days. First, the explosive outbreak of the allegations. Then, the intensifying media scrutiny of the developing situation.  Now, the rising anger and calls for immediate action and accountability to save Penn State from its inevitable fate - that feeling of a runaway train ready to crash into, flatten, and destroy the aforementioned legacy of Joe Paterno and Penn State (update on Nov 9th: the inevitable was made real, as Joe announced his retirement today - and then at 10pm the Board of Trustees fired him). As someone who has invested in a lifetime of memories and associations with Penn State as a place much greater now than Joe himself, I feel something similar to Matt Millen, a former player under Coach Paterno and now just another member of the Penn State family trying to grapple with this horrible situation.

I can draw no meaningful conclusions at this point. I feel for the victims of this atrocity, who might have lost their innocence forever through no fault of their own (and, as a side note, deserve so much more, particularly if several were from disadvantaged backgrounds to begin with). I feel for Penn Staters, whose identities will continue to be challenged by further revelations, media flourishes, and the inevitable taunts that will come from other fans, journalists, pundits, and observers from across the nation. And I feel for Joe Paterno, who has consistently done what he believes is right - even in the face of great adversity - and has acted with honor and integrity. In this case, he appears to have followed the law and even university policy and procedure, but perhaps not the dictates of common decency and humanity that would coincide with the greater ideals he has espoused over his long career.

In some small way, these words are meant for catharsis, to create outlet for the pangs of anger and sadness that jockey at odds for dominance in my head. I want to consume every new article, soundbyte, and editorial that hits the wire, hoping that the next set of words will provide the revelations that clarify this whole mess.  I realize this wild hope is unfounded - there is nothing from snap reactions that will solve for the tumult ensnaring the victims, the institution, and those affiliated with the Penn State community like myself.  Instead, I pen these words as a certain cantation, to demystify the behaviors of an alleged sexual predator whose seemingly genuine care for children likely masked a much darker side (noting that Sandusky adopted six children himself and helped to found a charity, The Second Mile, that now helps over 100,000 youth annually across all of Pennsylvania). I pen these words with a desire to unlock the puzzle of what people knew about Sandusky, what incidents were witnessed by whom, when, and why the path to investigation and trial took so long to materialize. Ultimately, I pen these words to divorce myself from the torment of this situation and to remove myself from the news cycle so that I can grieve the loss of this great institution.

Because this week, the Penn State we knew, the Penn State so well encapsulated in its alma mater that alumni have sung so softly before home games at Beaver Stadium for decades, has passed - and all we are left with are the shadows of greatness.

Growing Up

2011-11-08T10:01:00.001-05:00

3 months

Time passes in subtle yet dramatic ways. I still remember the first days of meeting my godson, when he was first born in San Francisco. For me, it was the days of carefree living, a lot of travel and more wonder about the future portends of love, work, and adventures. For him, it was the wonders of life itself.

If I fast forward almost a decade, there is more clarity than what transpired in those days. Love is more certain. Work is better defined. Which make adventures less ambiguous. But how time etches certain marks on life. 10 years can be a very long time, but not so long after all. And in the eyes of a child, it is almost the scale of growing up. I will be curious to measure the next decade and what will come of today's pursuits - mobile wallets for me, acting for him. And with reflection of such time passing, I will be curious as to what others cities we will traverse and what other accomplishments we will achieve. For the moment, I am contented that we have our time in NYC, only a short train ride away.

9.5 years

Holidays are Here Again

2011-11-07T17:51:00.001-05:00

Ruby earned her holiday mouse ears

With all the busyness in November and December schedules, it turned out that Sunday was the best day to put up the holiday decorations. So out of the garage and up the stairs came the tree, ornaments, train, wreathes, stockings, and other odds-and-ends that spruce up the living area for the end of the year.

Ruby seemed to enjoy her first taste of holiday decorating (she came on the scene last year after Thanksgiving when decorations were already up), and we hope she is around a little bit more than Rose for such special occasions. Holidays are here again, and for that I am happy and eager.

A Neighborhood Walk

2011-11-06T15:05:00.001-05:00

Ruby neighborhood walk on a blue sky day, a set on Flickr.

It's almost 0.5 miles to take a turn in our neighborhood at the end where our townhouse is located. This distance is just about right for Ruby to get her legs stretched, get a nice run in, and then peter out back at home to fall into her cushy bed. It seemed appropriate to capture our turn around the neighborhood with such a clear blue weekend as we have experienced thus far...

Clear Blue

2011-11-06T14:42:00.003-05:00

Clear Blue

We have had a glorious weekend in DC. Skies have been expansive and brilliant, with the only white provided by streaking jets who must find this blank canvas invigorating to paint. The sky is almost as brilliant as the extra hour that was returned to us, courtesy of daylight savings. The combination of additional sleep and happiness-inducing weather does nothing but enhance the mood. So what else can be the next step than to start putting up the holiday decorations to carry this feeling into the upcoming holiday season? We were already starting to get there after visiting the mall yesterday and experiencing the soon-to-be holiday rush that was portended by the Nordstrom half-annual sale in the women's and children's sections. Luckily, it was a quick trip and back home again to relax at home, which seemed appropriate for such a weekend. To that point, it is time to wrap this entry and take a walk in the neighborhood, as such a crisp yet comfortable November day is bound to lead into some sort of foul weather stretch that overtook the region last year. Remember snowmageddon, anyone?

Ready for the Weekend

2011-11-05T08:48:00.001-05:00

This week measured about 3.5 shots worth of sake; that's roughly 1.75 bottles of Ozeki dry (to be exacting, about 315ml of 14.5% alcohol content, dry yet fragrant rice liquor - but I digress). These days, it has been well-earned, considering the amount of work time that I have been putting in. All worth it, I know, but it is always great to take a break. That meant date night with Wendy.

Ready for the weekend, for sure, especially after enjoying a nice spread of special rolls at our new favorite sushi joint, Yuraku...

Inspired

2011-11-02T19:29:00.002-05:00

In NYC this evening. Looking out the window of the Helmsley Hotel on 42nd Street, I am 38 floors above the barreling taxis and rushing cars. From up here, they move in a more measured pace, suggesting a faint order to this chaotic city. I can feel the energy, though, when I combine the traffic pacing below with the computer monitors blaring above in the building straight across, office workers still toiling on some project or task. At the same time, I am video chatting with Wendy, and I can see our dog in the background of her image feed; we can hear the sirens passing on the street below, accompaniment to the sound of our chatter. We are working together tonight before I head out to dinner with friends; dinner at nine, the day is not over yet.

This is life in the modern world, and as I shoot off this post, I am inspired.

Happy Halloween (before turning into a pumpkin)

2011-10-31T22:32:00.000-05:00

Ruby in her first Halloween costume

Making Magic in the Day Planner

2011-10-31T08:06:00.001-05:00

Seeing as more time has elapsed since the last time that I blogged something, I decided to peek into what is happening in my day-to-day life in effort to squeeze in a bit of writing. Here is what I found:

I'm working an average of 55 hours per work, according to the handy-dandy timesheets I am constructing at Paymo. Mind you, this is actual working time, which means closer to 70-80 hour work weeks
Working is most of what I'm doing these days, besides being as good a husband and doggy daddy as I can be. Basically cranking, as they call it, which means something different to me after reading this piece from Merlin Mann at 43folders

This has to change. So, on a Sunday evening, I decided to pivot (another one of those words they use). Let's start with the given - 1,440. That's the number of minutes that I have every day to do things as well as sleep. Same as anyone else, I suppose.

Instead of just cranking, I want to encompass a fuller set of things:

To laugh and love
To sweat and sing
To discover and have discomfort
To crank (yes, still want to do it) and be creative

These things can all live together in their own way, with a little bit of "zzz's" sprinkled in to allow the whole cycle to repeat. It seems easy enough - now I just need to animate the old day planner with the right spirit to make it so.

A random walk down 42nd Street

2011-07-20T07:16:00.002-05:00

It's always been a wonder to me how cultures intermingle in the streets of New York City. I'm here on business, an overnight trip of curious dimensions (I got a "free" hotel night at the Hilton for agreeing not to stay somewhere, which was a blessing and curse all the same), noticing the rhythm of the city again.

Starting on 42nd Street at 2nd Avenue, it was a British invasion. Specifically, two gentlemen boarded the elevator on the 16th and 11th floors, both British, and both with a Pfizer business card affixed to their briefcase or roller bag. Of course, it made sense, as I walked out of the hotel - Pfizer's world headquarters was across the street, which likely prompted some sort of meetings or working sessions and the trip stateside.

As I walked across Lexington Avenue, I started to perspire; another heat wave has descended upon the city, which is meant to only get worse, and I realized that it would create a furnace affect on my trip through the subway later that day. So, I did what any savvy New Yorker would do - I tucked in to the Grand Central Market, which was bound to be cool, with the keeping of the luscious produce and seafood selection that locals in the neighborhood use as their secret grocer.

It turns out that the Spanish are in town, seemingly Madrid-based by their accent and attire, and they were out in full force - at least according to the displays at the Grand Central Market. It could have been a tour bus that dropped them for the station tour or just coincidental timing, but three decent-sized groups walked in their promenade-style best, lilting their local tongue to mix with the butchers and fish mongers that peopled the booths.

By the time I reached the other side, I was in the main concourse and looking for the quickest path to the escalators up into the Met Life Building; it can be a "full pads" moment to confront the commuters who barrage the station from northern points from the city (Westchester County in New York state, Connecticut, and points even further afield). Luckily, I must have just missed either side of the rolling thunder of trains that can vomit hundreds of people into the concourse, who then organize chaotically into subway cars, taxicabs, and thoroughfare buses. I did catch the Connecticut rich kid "vagrants" who seemed to be sitting by one of the tracks, waiting to hitch a train back home after a presumably bacchanalian night in the city.

By this time, I was up the escalators and into the Met Life Building, almost at the end of my trip. Avoiding the final temptations of freshly made pastries that capture the air at this point, I was out the doors and over to the office.

A random walk down 42nd street took me past suburban kids, Spaniards, British, and so much more than I could not recount in this quick account - an easy reminder of the wonders that this city holds.

Muggles...

2011-07-15T08:19:00.002-05:00

...is what I tweeted last night after having the privilege of attending a private screening of the movie hours before the midnight premiere. As much as the digital revolution has fragmented the shared experiences that we have, it has also greatly expanded the impact of those events that touch various peoples.

Witness Harry Potter. In the pre-digital world, this would have been an uniquely British story about wizards and boarding schools, but it has captivated global audiences and transcended the borders of its now-uber-wealthy writer. We were part of the crowd that spanned the globe to see this movie, which I can say, lives up to the hype.

On a Thursday evening, we could watch the lines of children queuing up to get a chance to say goodbye to a childhood growing up with Harry Potter and watching the actor grow from a plump-faced little boy into a serious actor and apparent alcoholic. It did not matter for 2.5 hours in the theater, of a movie that was pretty gripping from beginning to end. And in the end, the boy with the forehead scar... lived.

What also lived were the random costumes that adorned the young who snaked around the multiplex that we exited. Witches, goblins, a golden snitch. I heard accounts of people dressed as the Hogwarts Express and random schoolchildren from various houses, as well as various magical creatures. To which I say, well done and enjoy. This is a movie worth seeing (and seeing again), celebrating the end of an era on a wonderful story that will likely live on for generations.

Best of Washington?

2011-07-14T08:39:00.005-05:00

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. The famous opening of The "Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens, could have been the opening of our evening at the National Building Museum last night. My wife signed us up to leave the comfy confines of suburban townhouse living to experience the nightlife of the "pretty people" of DC. And pretty people there were, of the "augmentation" type (I did not know they existed in such numbers here!) as well as the fashionable type. In all cases, they were on hand for the best that Washington DC has to offer in food and drinks as declared by the writers and readers of Washingtonian Magazine.

As the valet took forever to retrieve our car afterwards (the head valet apologized as his "slow" man was giving the task of grabbing our car, after finally arriving to discover that he was just a seemingly confused, disoriented college kid with over-sized basketball shoes), we reflected on the night that led to a getaway drive back home. Of course, the night was a fundraiser, money going to a good cause (Lymphoma and Leukemia Society), and so was some of the savories (drunken chicken, lamb burgers, chicken nilgiri korma, tomato tartare, and tuna crudo, to name a few) and sweets (cherry-almond "shooters" and those delectable Georgetown cupcakes). But alas, a number of the items we would have tried were flush out by the time we arrived at the table. Not to mention the loitering of the fabulous people, which have some peculiar tendencies to say the least.

With so much good food and so many pretty people, why leave in such a rush? Well, it's been some time for us married home bodies since hanging around hoards of single people preening for the attention of others, even if done expertly and demurely, as several exhibited their skills. After a couple of hours, it was enough, I suppose, to get a taste of what we could and head home to spend some time with our shaved pup. She was grateful, and so were we, as we really need to get ready for the really big event tonight - the final Harry Potter movie!

Email

2011-07-13T09:30:00.002-05:00

On any given day, I receive about 150-200 emails that require my attention. As of 11am this morning, I have already received around 70 such emails from my work account alone, and the deluge has not yet begun.

When I open my Gmail account in the morning, there are usually a good 20-25 emails that sit in this box as well, most of them informational and promotional but some of them reminders of things to do or friends to chat with. That pile just contributes to the list.

Over the course of any given day, I try to process as many of these emails as I can. Perhaps anachronistically, I clear as many as I can from whatever day seems fitting, not so much that I have some priority set to them, but because it catches my attention to get done at the moment.

Of course, this means that I don't quite process all the requisite emails on any given day, but let's leave that dog lying for now.

The kids today, they don't use email - they use something else. It's called text messaging and social networking. When one asks to "Facebook" them, it is clear where yesterday's email is now going.

Alas, this is a sign of the times. As much as I would like to try an email-quitting experiment like the writer at Techcrunch is doing, I believe that I am stuck with this deluge. And as a side note, it is a deluge that keeps me writing more fun things like a blog post than an unending number of less-than-five-line responses that are curt and focused meant to end an email thread.

With that, I am back to the inbox for my daily Sisyphean task.

Beach Reflections

2011-07-09T12:21:00.007-05:00

This morning, I bought a pair of Velcro paddles that catch a miniature tennis ball (you can buy your "beach volley" set here, if you are so inspired!). I was shopping with my wife at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, where her brother happens to be working this summer. So domesticated, to spend a morning at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, but I'm going with it.

Anyhow, I realized in the moment of picking up these simple paddles that I was really slipping into a moment from a different time, as someone much younger who was getting increasingly excited to drive down south for a week at the beach. My wife, who spent those same formative years back in China, could not understand why I wanted to drop six dollars on such a seemingly wasteful set of plastic paddles. But I had my reasons - this was a classic accompaniment to the beach of my childhood, with the requisite shovels and turret-shaped buckets that were standard-issue beach gear for the kids of northern families. And we are re-living those days when we pack up to join my parents and siblings for a "reunion-style" family summer vacation in Hilton Head in a couple of weeks. 25 years later, no longer kids (partners were never in the picture for fifth graders), but feeling like children again in recreating the simple times of those annual pilgrimages to the sea.

In the end, my wife broke down and allowed me my toy for the day. But that would be it - she would not allow me to throw a Kadima set in the shopping cart (another piece of standard-issue beach gear and incidentally a famous Israeli and Italian beach sport), as she could not get around the idea of blowing another six dollars on a different paddle game.

Siesta

2011-07-08T13:05:00.002-05:00

Every so often, an afternoon comes along that deserves a siesta. Today is such a day. With mid-90's temperatures and a blazing, blue sky, a July summer day such as this carries the conditions befitting of a hour's respite from the day's torching heat and mounting challenges. Good thing, then, that there is so much more work to do and that a pause is difficult to conceive at this point. But it is worth daydreaming - as good as a siesta, just done wakefully instead of eyes closing.

In any case, I found this portrait by the artist Roxanne Driedger to be appropriate. A sort of soft tribute to the innocent pleasures of an afternoon nap that seems so appealing right now.

Reflection

2011-07-06T08:37:00.002-05:00

I just checked this blog. Dormant since October 16, 2010. What has happened since that time? Where have I been? And what have I been doing?

It's been 263 days to be exact, almost 9 months, and a world apart, as that period of time can be. I have a new job, I have a new dog, and I suppose that I have a new outlook on life - although this can be nothing more than time changing me, as it changes us all.

Regardless, it is worth the reflection and then moving forward, to visit this blog more often than every 9 months.

Five Years On

2010-10-16T10:24:00.001-05:00

A clear, bright day along Lake Geneva in early September is worth beholding. Alpine shadows, lakeside calm, blue contrast with patterned green hillsides - the scenery is famous and attractive. This mountain-water backdrop once served as theater for a group of future leaders of the future back in 2005 - and served once more as the special location for the IMD MBA 5-Year reunion.

Returning to an alma mater draws complex emotions, none more complex than for an IMD MBA. "Real World, Real Learning" has perverse meaning at times, and the experience is transformative and exhausting; re-entering the famous dungeon rooms and auditoriums of our business youth is like re-visiting old battlegrounds for wizened warriors. Of course, these are great memories, made greater by the presence of those with whom the time was served. For this, we were lucky to have the largest turn-out yet for a class reunion, almost 60 by the time the event finished on a gorgeous Sunday morning.

Thanks to our fantastic event organizers Bruce Meadows (Australian - g'day all the way!) and Florian Wunsch (Swiss German - gets the sh** done!), the agenda was packed and tightly orchestrated. Auditorium time with Martha and Sean and all that is happening around IMD and the MBA program these days. Lunch and dinner in the famous restaurant and school addition, respectively. MGM along the lake, tours of the old town, a breezy lunchtime boat ride on the lake, followed by "tea time" at the Beau Rivage, a tour of the Olympic Museum, and a sumptuous feast afterwards while looking over Lake Geneva. More MGM, farewell breakfast at the Mövenpick, and a meander and supper in Geneva for those flying out the next day. All with that gorgeous weather that reminded us all of the pleasures we briefly enjoyed while living in Lausanne (and that caused several of us to stick around after IMD to enjoy indefinitely).

Of course, it would not be an IMD event without certain tense moments related to group dynamics. As appropriate as it was to use the site of the Olympic Museum as our selection grounds for the next reunion city (complete with the IOC-style politicking and vote-pandering), it was just as appropriate to use the event as a time-worn lesson in how to possibly assemble the future the leaders of the future together to decide anything collectively. In the end, Copenhagen prevailed for 2011, and the remaining wine soothed any lingering tensions.

So a glorious weekend passed, and the group left with brilliant memories to carry back to burgeoning careers; but we were also left wondering what IMD has really taught us, five years on? I was reminded of the question a few weeks later when a prospective applicant asked the same of me when I manned the IMD table at a MBA Fair in Washington DC. I thought of the many things that made my IMD experience unique and all the people that traveled that journey with me, and the answer became simple: I truly learned about myself and how to deal with the people around me - and it has made all the difference in the world.

Home

2010-05-06T20:23:00.004-05:00

It was a long week. Travel, non-stop continuous motion on meetings, discussions, phone calls, conversations, and teleconferences. Even a Southwest flight could not offer respite from the commotion that surrounded this week, chattering with a sweet man 56 years into his marriage with a just-as-sweet wife joining him for a trip to celebrate his godson's college graduation.
All wonderful activities and occurrences. Magical in their own right. But when I finally turned down the street towards my home, all that motion and commotion fell away. It is a feeling we have all experienced at some point, that feeling of belonging somewhere, where you belong. It can be a condo, apartment, mansion, split-level, single-family, rowhome, townhome, cityhome, or mobile home. The place does not matter, as long as it evokes that feeling of peace that you have arrived.
So there I am, with a beautiful wife to boot. Just enough to put my feet up and enjoy being home.

Frogs

2010-05-03T12:25:00.003-05:00

My wife does not like frogs. Neither do I exactly, but I can tolerate them if they mind their own business - and they don't multiply. So imagine the surprised call I received from my wife in the upstairs bedroom when she was three frogs sitting around our pond this afternoon, enjoying the steamy weather that is DC after some hot sticky days and hard morning rains. I was OK with one, then somehow he picked up a friend, and now a third has tagged along. They outnumber our fish - only one, Mickey, is left, a big fish in a little pond - and they are coming from nowhere... seemingly.

Frogs - should I be worried?

(photo courtesy of the National Wildlife Foundation 2006 photo contest)

Saturday Morning Cartoons

2010-05-01T07:39:00.003-05:00

Once upon a time, when I was four feet tall, I would wake up on mornings just like this and charge down the stairs towards a television set. In those days, you had to pull the knob - the remote was fantasy. And when you pulled the knob at a magical hour such as this, you would find The Smurfs, The Flintstones, Muppet Babies, Pink Panther, and other classics dancing across the screen. It was a time suspended from reality, chores, and fraternal badgering; it was a time of joy and good overcoming evil. And it was all available at the pull of a knob.

Fast forward 20 years. I am two feet taller. I am decades older. And I no longer watch Saturday Morning Cartoons. But for this moment, when I am happy just waking up and pushing all other cares aside, I remember those days briefly and how good it felt to pull the knob and disappear among the clouds, or Mr. T's Adventures as it were.

Restless

2010-04-29T16:33:00.003-05:00

Today's word is restless. As in losing concentration and mentally wandering in and out of various subjects without the ability to focus. As in typing this entry while looking over to my work computer and the 14 open windows on the monitor. As in remembering that I had some chore or another to do before I pick up my wife from the metro but not jogging my memory of what exactly that chore was. As in returning my attention to this entry after thinking about Burt Bacharach songs that were on the television show Glee earlier this week. And so on and so forth.

I'm not sure what these feeling means for my well-being and ability to actually contribute something meaningful to the day at hand, but it is distracting at the least. At the most, it is debilitating, but of course, my restlessness would not allow me to focus on this comment long enough to understand the gravitas of what I just typed. Oh bother, I am too distracted to make sense of this anyway. Which is why the word is perfect - restless.

Frenetic

2010-04-28T12:40:00.002-05:00

I like the word frenetic. It perfectly describes the pace of a modern worker. I suppose each generation would call its activities frenetic in their own way. A mid-century worker would talk about how quick you could pick up a phone and call someone - it would have taken a letter before, or perhaps a telegram down the railroad lines, but the message would be hard to convey beyond a brief missive. A 21st century worker likely conveys the same amount of information within 60 seconds - text message, blog entry, twitter update, email, phone call, almost simultaneous - as a turn-of-the-century worker might convey within 60 hours.

Perhaps this word resonates because today, I feel the pace and rhythm of this word infiltrating my activities. I took a 5-minute break to whip up this entry and throw it out on the web before I answer a Google Talk response from my wife, text back a co-worker, send a few emails to project managers, schedule a meeting via phone with someone on the west coast, and eat lunch. This will happen in the next 15 minutes after I take my fingers off the keyboard before I open up the next conference call. So there you go - frenetic. The word applies perfectly today.

Excited about an Expo

2010-04-27T13:23:00.003-05:00

I'm going to the World's Fair this summer. When I told a good friend about my plans, he asked how this could be - does the world have fairs anymore? I suppose in a prior time when travel was more difficult (an Icelandic volcano can remind us of what we take for granted in our generation), an international exhibition would have been more exotic and special. But today, I suppose our exposure to other places and cultures makes a fair some more ordinary and routine, less spectacular and necessary to maintain as a tradition.

This does not change my mind - I'm going anyway. It helps that it is being held in Shanghai, which is special by itself since I have not been to that city before. It helps that the Chinese are promoting it in their own particular way, which turns into a touting of the largest world's fair ever. It helps that the theme of this year's expo is about "better city, better life" is all about imagining the world in which we will live in the future, according to our concerns for sustainability and maintaining harmony with our surroundings. And it helps that my visit will coincide with the World Cup, which will give added dimension to the global village (it helps to be outside the US to fully appreciate the grandeur that is the largest sporting event in the world).

I suppose that all the wonders of the modern world will conspire to minimize the joy we can experience in these sorts of cultural exchanges - but I'm not buying. I'm excited about an Expo and curious to join the millions who will find the same excitement too.

Try Something New: 750 Words

2010-04-26T14:24:00.002-05:00

If there is anything universally redeeming about writing, it is the ability to delve into the inner thoughts of one's own psyche and come back with perspective on feelings, motivations, and desires. In this way, journaling as the specific form of writing that provides this redemption can be a worthwhile pursuit. One might suppose that the internet world would offer various tools to make journaling simple, easy, and relatively painless, but that has not always been the case - until now.

I came across this from Lifehacker, who was promoting the site back in March: 750words. The site is run by a former Amazon product manager who has an interest in journaling for the creative process and data visualization. Mash those things together, and you have an interesting site that is built around the premise that creative juices get flowing by consistently writing 3 pages worth of stuff on a daily basis, which translates to roughly 750 words. Logging in by using your Google or Facebook username, and you get a blank sheet with a timeline across the top (for when you last wrote) and a word counter at the bottom (for what you have left today). In between goes your thoughts, emotional outbursts, story sketches, and anything else you might think to apply to 750 daily words. And when you get a streak going, you can earn points similar to how a game of bowling is scored. I just earned a turkey today, going three days in a row.

So for those who are not certain about the writing process, try out journaling for is therapeutic affects and 750 words to see what journaling can be in the digital age.

Pause

2010-04-25T11:22:00.002-05:00

I felt like I hit the pause button on the remote control. Over 90 days ago, I penned the last words in this blog, and those days have passed with scant realization as to the timeframe. I suppose this can happen in married life with career prospects, travel plans, and other commitments getting in the way. After a week in Chicago, New Jersey, and New York City, I am aware for the moment of what time passage means and can do. This used to be my typical travel pattern for work, for life, and for experiences. Punctuated by visiting with dear friends on a Friday night at the Met illustrated this only too plainly - the former life I lived no longer persists, and I am a creature of a new timeframe and a different set of objectives that govern my choices.

A strange way to re-emerge on a blog that has stayed dormant for longer than any time period I have encountered since 2003, over 7 years ago. Still, it is a start for reminding myself of what time has passed and what pause means to perspective.

A holiday greeting

2009-12-24T21:42:00.003-05:00

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!

September

2009-09-30T15:54:00.003-05:00

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 feelings came together on a lovely day to remember this passage of time with a few words as to a symbolically significant day.

Of course, every day is significant, as I am reminded when I finally shed the shackles of sleepiness (such not a morning person am I), but today is as good as any day to jot a few notes before hopping off to work. A few deliverables and a long drive await, but I have this crisp fall day to enjoy while it lasts

Long time, no talk

2009-08-27T14:44:00.002-05:00

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 feeling that life is bursting with all the promise of what living can be in the best of days - I am living it now. More living than chronicling it, quite true, but I do not necessarily mind the interruption from writing. And if I listen hard enough, over the American classics like Billie Holiday, Muddy Waters, and Frank Sinatra that lilt through the air of the Robert and Arlene Kogod Courtyard, I can hear the creative waters rushing through the inner recesses of my mind. Some day, I imagine a life where those creative waters will come gushing out on something more meaningful than a random blog posting, but that time will come when that time does come. In the meantime, I can attempt to realize something more than a quick missive every two months or so.

In Memory of Rose

2009-06-15T09:36:00.009-05:00

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 by remaining quiet and content in our presence, never making a sound or causing disturbance except to signal a potty break or needing some water. She was consistent in this undying love, our happiness, sadness, anger, disappointment, and resignation nothing more than condition for Rose to either cherish or downplay. She made clear her position through the vigor she showed at darting after either one of us when packing a suitcase or loading a car, always angling to be part of the action and bring her joy along as well. It was at these moments where she displayed her greatest spirit, comforted in Wendy's arms or seated in my lap, tongue wagging and eyes softened as if in bliss. We came to realize that her energy was geared towards her ultimate wish - to become one of the pack.

Perhaps this is also what made her passing hardest as we were out of town for my sister's graduation. Alone in a hospital room after turning blue from a weak heart, Wendy's parents helped her valiantly - and appeared successful in stabilizing her condition - before cardiac arrest ended her life. We had to take a 9-hour car ride back to find her lifeless body, a Homeric ending to hold her one last time after losing the heroic battle. We hope that she knew her pack was with her when facing her greatest challenge.

It is only natural to want to do more for any of our loved ones, particularly when there is no more for us to do. We would give more than we care to admit for one last day with them, much less to be there for them in their last moments. But there is also the realization that this is part of the natural order of things, and we remember what we can for the time that we had together; the memories often sustain us and cement those special bonds that define our own existence for what time we have ourselves.

For Rose, the list of warm memories grows as the pangs of each wave of sorrow passes. Neighborhood walks, eating plants in the front yard, fuzzy paws slipping, and little burps after scarfing food. Bullying Wendy's mom with her cute little bark, readying her arthritic legs to walk, laying so peacefully under the desk while we worked, jumping excitedly into her bed in anticipation of leaving with the pack, sneaking out of barricades ever so craftily, finding mommy hidden in the house, growling to protect her greatest love, and hopping on to her hind legs to show how much she wanted to join us on the couch. Showing her sad face after peeing in the house, even when it was our fault for waking up too late to take her out. Snuggling up next to us laying on the ground. Devolving into putty in my hands when bonding over a belly rub. Resting so peacefully in her bed so as to snore a light, sonorous note. Wearing her winter parka with pride and positioning her little head to see beyond the fur lining. And always waiting, without fail, for Wendy to come up the stairs at that magic hour after a long workday when we were all so happy to reunite again.

Life without Rose will be quieter, less colorful, and less welcoming when returning home. It will take a number of days before we put her stuff away in boxes and overcome this feeling of sadness that has replaced her exuberance. But over time, our memories of Rose will remain to fill the void, even if the pitter-patter of her steps no longer follows. And she would love to know that she was always - and will always be for however long our memory remains - a cherished part of the pack wherever we may go.

Flatness (as contemplated on a metro trip downtown)

2009-05-12T16:13:00.002-05:00

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 journey, such feelings cannot be avoided.

Growing Up

2009-04-08T13:05:00.002-05:00

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 clearer that this self-realization never really happens, or rather that our striving for such perfection reveals some fulfillment to some of the promise but at the same time reveals more unsolved pieces of the puzzle. Mental models evolve, priorities shift, and the worldview takes on more dimensions than the aspirations of yesterday - and so the growing up process begins slightly anew and with the same yearning for purpose intact.

John Lennon was famously quoted as saying, "life is what happens when you are busy making other plans." I think he is partially right, except that the planning has deeper origins in that fundamental yearning to dream for the skies and grow up. Funny that I am just now realizing that growing up is more about a changing state of mind than another holiday season or birthday passing.

Reminiscent

2009-03-31T11:37:00.000-05:00

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 wandering bachelor but breadwinner. Yet the words strangely flow again like they once did, emotional pangs registered through emo stirrings that Keane is apt to produce. The life I once led is still nearby, and I am reminded that we never grow old as much as grow deeper and more complex as the years pass. I don’t know what to make of this rumination, but I will settle for the comfort that this feeling brings: connection to my former self and completeness to my psyche.

A Great New Adventure

2009-03-12T10:15:00.002-05:00

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 North America to Europe to Asia Pacific and the supporting economies in between

The rapid shift, particularly downward, causes a societal “re-set” on perspective and behavior. Values are questioned and habits are scrutinized with the goal of finding the root cause of such marked changes and the things that can be “fixed” to return to normalcy and growth. Those who feel that their handle on the rapid shift is well-grounded – or prescient from accurately reading the previous “all-too-telling” signs – make their voices heard more loudly than before. And most importantly, a new cast of triumphant few seize their opportunity to establish the zeitgeist that will determine the resulting outcome beyond this current state.

In this period, we are free to craft new visions for what the zeitgeist might contain:

New concept of home – less a financial investment and more a family investment
New concept of transportation – less an environmental enemy and more an environmental friend
New concept of environment – less as conquered and more as preserved
New concept of business – less about “getting rich quick” and more about “rising all boats”
New concept of government – less about taking orders from the people and more about giving orders to the people

We are also free to wallow in what has become of our old visions for what the zeitgeist once was and could have been. In both freedoms, there is implicit choice and votes cast for what will ultimately become of our shared world. It is in this context that we must battle our fears and hopes to forge a new imperative that re-sets our perspective and behavior in a healthy manner.

As a student of history, I am struck by the increasing parallels this time maintains with the 1930’s. Global recession and economic nationalism, the residue of optimism from the 1920’s ultimately pummeled by the escalating fears of depression. Hope replaced by fear, not fully undone until nearly every nation tired itself from hostility and aggression in either world war or civil conflict.

As we stand on the precipice, a great new adventure awaits. I am hopeful that history’s recurring patterns can be undone. The future is not yet written. The present offers ample opportunity to craft new visions that promote posterity over personal and national glory. As always, the road is long but never as long as the thread that increasingly binds us together as citizens of a connected world. The question becomes what we will do to ensure posterity triumphs.

The Longest Day Turned Into the Longest Month

2009-03-07T10:29:00.001-05:00

Numbers don't lie...

The Longest Day

2009-02-12T23:37:00.002-05:00

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 far away!

Adjusting to Mr. Mom

2009-02-11T10:00:00.004-05:00

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 just lost one of her last two teeth - poor old dog - and thus requires more mushing of her food), get the mail during the afternoon, and sometimes get dinner ready for both my girls before the wife gets home. Most times, I move too slow, which can lead to some impatient moments on all sides. But I return to my theme of adjustments and taking greater responsibility, prompting the learning curve that I am still ascending to buy myself some more time for further improvements that are coming.

Then again, I view this as good practice, this adjusting to Mr. Mom stuff. Because at the end of the day, this new world of equality demands equal sharing of all sorts of things that were once relegated to one party or another. Perhaps we shall also start to introduce Mrs. Dad into the lexicon to demonstrate this notion?

Buddy Holly and Taxes

2009-02-03T22:08:00.004-05:00

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 he was the original rock & roll legend, taking staid "white" music out of the suburban dance parlors and into the grittier realm of rhythm & blues; he garned an African-American following when whites and blacks did not formally mix their musical tastes. As musicians of the day often did, he trouped with a fellow bunch of burgeoning rock & rollers across the country, hoofing it from one high school gymnasium to the next thumping this strange music, befuddling elders and inciting young people to move their hips and sing along in polite protest to the surrounding authority figures.

On an early February night outside a small town in Iowa, Buddy Holly boarded a 4-seat propellor plane to hop over to the next small town after finishing another ripping set. No doubt his wife was strangely thinking about him back in Texas, newly pregnant and wondering what would become of her traveling music man. Amidst a light snowfall and swirling winds, Buddy Holly's plane went down in that dark night and took with it the greatest early lights of the Rock & Roll Revolution; the event was little noticed at the time thanks to an even greater plane crash on the same night in New York City but eventually struck a chord through the famous memorialization that Don Mclean provided to "the day the music died" with his famous 1971 song "American Pie".

Buddy Holly was only 22 in 1959, already a prolific recording artist but with so much left to say at his young age. The Beatles were greatly influenced by him, even taking their name in veiled deference to The Crickets, the name of Buddy's band. The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello, Paul Simon - so many called Buddy Holly a musical influence that his music has inevitably become ingrained into our pop culture, an intrinsic aspect of our shared rhythm and rock & roll. Even those hip-hop stars of today have some sort of homage to give to Buddy Holly, a trailblazer that finds a strange new audience even 50 years later.

My rumination and following research led me to listen again to Don McLean's song and to shiver as he laid down one of the song's final lines: "...in the streets the children screamed, the lovers cried, and the poets dreamed but not a word was spoken..." I care not to wander into thoughts on my own mortality on a snowy winter evening in a New Jersey hotel room - not much different than the final night of Buddy Holly's life - but I do wonder what might have become of Buddy in what would have been his 72nd year.

May Buddy Holly rest in peace and may we all allow the familiar notes of Buddy's famous songs ("That'll Be the Day", "Peggy Sue") carry us for another 50 years, or as long as fate gives us to cherish our own living moments - including those life-affirming taxes!

Moments in the Office

2009-01-27T16:55:00.003-05:00

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.

Happy New Year (of the Ox!)

2009-01-26T09:29:00.004-05:00

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, celebrating together all that the New Year might bring.

This year is the year of the Ox. Although I will miss the in-laws, who have joined that immense migration and are back in Hubei province enjoying the festivities, I will mark new celebrations with Wendy at our home stateside. And if I use the celebrations for Inauguration Day last week as a measuring stick for this year's fortunes, I will be pleasantly surprised with the result. I should hope so, because the news surrounding the economy and general state of the world is not as uplifting and encouraging...

Last Words of the First Day: President Obama's Inspiration

2009-01-21T23:30:00.000-05:00

“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 supposed to be able to do that.’ And you guys just went ahead and did it. You didn't know any better - you said yes we can.

“That’s spirit. That…

[Crowd chanting “Ready to go! Fired up!”]

“Hey... Let me say this because I'm... I'm gonna get carried away and my wife's like, my wife said, 'you were going to be short, you were going to be brief.' Plus we’ve got an amazing show coming up. Let me just pause by saying this… now hold up, hold up… hold up, hold up.

“There is.. here's, here's… here is what I just want... want you to remember from this campaign is that… listen up, I want you guys to listen up, ‘cuz so many of you are at the start of your careers.

“You know... we now have some big problems, and we’ve assembled what I think will be an outstanding administration. We are going to follow through on our commitments, we are going to work hard to keep people in their homes, provide jobs, improve the education system for every American and change our foreign policy to reflect our ideals and our values – we are going to do all that.

“But here is the thing, I guess, that is most important to me, is that you take the spirit and the culture of this campaign and you keep applying it not just to campaigns, make it that sense of possibility that you guys can do anything, that you can reimagine the world. That you can lead not by trying to manipulate your way or push down somebody else to get your way but instead lead through the force of your example and your discipline and your creativity. I just hope that you carry that with you everywhere you go because that’s what America needs right now, active citizens like you who are willing to turn towards each other, talk to people you've never met and say, ‘c’mon, let’s go do this, let’s go change the world. Let’s go create a better way to teach our children, let’s go figure out how to make the healthcare system work for every American, let’s go make sure that we got accountability in our government, let’s go to other countries and spread the word of freedom and democracy but also prosperity and equality and justice.

“What an enormous force you've got inside yourselves. Don’t put that on the shelf and wait for the next four years. Next week, next month, next year, for the rest of your lives. Cling on to that essential thing about you. What made this campaign special was you, and don’t let anybody forget, don’t let anybody take that away from you. Because I promise you, I promise you, if everybody in this hall is willing to keep doing what you guys have been doing over the last two years, then I’m optimistic about America. And I’m gonna make some mistakes, but you’ll, you'll set me right. And after I’m out of office, then you’ll set the next person right. And maybe someday you’ll be in office, and you’ll set the country right. And maybe you’ll never be in office, but you’ll make your neighborhood right or you’ll make your job right.

“I am confident in you. I have faith in you. I am grateful to you. You, together, can change the world. God bless you, and God bless America. Thank you.”

Obama's First Day (and Last Inaugural Ball)

2009-01-21T23:10:00.000-05:00

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 long way towards replacing the infamous images of purple tickets (a growing legend for those whose privilege turned to pain on the back streets to the National Mall) and overflowing inauguration balls with images of greatness and goodwill.

After finding a prime parking spot right across the street from the venue, we gained entry to the venue after only 5 minutes of waiting in the cold. The coat check was well-organized, and security ran smoothly. Food was tasty and plentiful, so much that the buffet tables almost looked untouched when we departed at the end of the night. A beautiful spread of sandwiches, finger foods, veggies, and desserts beckoned us twice without reservation. Staffers and volunteers were overwhelmingly friendly, to the point of confusion as we wondered why everyone was so nice to each other. And the free entertainment, both from the warm-up band, the open bar and those who chose to empy its coffers, was excellent.

The evening only got better. First, the bathrooms had no lines (at least when we arrived). Second, seating was plentiful and offered good views of the proceedings. Third, we were surprised by the appearance of Joe Biden, who has quite a bit of share. Then, of course, there was Obama.

There is no better way to describe our new president than the musings of SNL comedian Darryl Hammond: "the Obamanon". This was my first evening to hear Obama speak in person, and he is truly gifted. His easy command of the language, his turn of words, his connection with the audience - Obama is almost without equal on a grand stage. Often, he has something to say. On this night, Obama's message was one of hope and inspiration to his campaign staffers, to translate the vision and hard work they showed over the past two years into tangible contributions that move the country forward. To change the world together, as he put it, with faith and confidence in what they have demonstrated to date. Heady and powerful words that left the audience asking for more of his time, as usual, before his hasty exit back to the White House.

No worries, he left the DC Armory in good hands with Jay-Z, a man who defines the words "consummate entertainer." Seeing Jay-Z in performance mode for the first time, he filled the hall with his presence and engaged the audience with "off-the-cuff" rhymes and a few playful jabs at outgoing President Bush for good measure. We danced the night away before heading for the doors and discovering that yet again, a line was still waiting to enter an Inauguration Ball.

30 seconds around the corner, and we were already in the car back home. The feeling could not be more upbeat and hopeful for what might come in the coming months. Of course, it starts with a full slate of work items tomorrow, but I figure that if Obama can already order the closure of Guatanamo Bay, then I should be able to get some of my own work done as well.

The Infamous Youth Ball

2009-01-20T23:55:00.013-05:00

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 black tie) that celebrate the ascendancy of the new presidency and mark a new era in Washington DC

Presuming to have golden tickets, we ventured off into the frigid evening to join the festivities of the MTV crowd and celebrity-rama that was the Youth Ball. This was one of the new events ushered in by President Obama to recognize the huge support of the younger generation (18-35) in his campaign election. Upon arrival, we realized that our golden tickets were not so golden as we joined a line 1,000 deep in the biting cold. Another 45 minutes later, we were able to thaw our feet inside the welcome tent that held the metal detectors and screening checkpoint.

A lesson learned from inauguration activities - expect lines for every conceivable activity. Finding the ballroom (20 minutes), checking the coat (15 minutes), getting food at the buffet (10 minutes), realizing that the entertainment is happening in a wholly separate auditorium (15 minutes), jamming into a crush of people with the hope of actually seeing Kid Rock and Kanye West perform live (45 minutes), feeling that inevitable disappointment to understand that the closest nearly all of the revelers would get to both acts and the President and First Lady would be from the various monitors around the waiting areas and other ballroom (45 minutes), gathering the belongings and finding the path back out of the building after the President's dance with his wife (15 minutes), and not feeling so bad after walking out of the venue to see that the line outside to get in to the ball was almost as long as you left it nearly 4 hours earlier.

We did get a kick out of reading about all those celebrities we supposedly partied with in the news: Demi Moore & Ashton Kutcher, Usher, and Fall Out Boy to name a few that strangely missed us in the revelry. We did get a chance to come across Rosario Dawson as her security detail found her a path past the barricades into the main event ballroom, all the while being accosted by a bitter Obama campaign staffer who was sharing her feelings of ingratitude for not finding herself across the barricades as well. No doubt there were hard feelings for the $75 tickets and $10 martinis to boot, but sometimes those are the breaks, I suppose.

A final lesson learned from inauguration activities - just pretend like it is New Year's Eve, expect very little, and give yourself a chance to be surprised. We'll have to wait another four years to apply these inauguration lessons. In the meantime, we will have to enjoy the fact that President Obama is in the same building but on a TV monitor instead of in the flesh.

The Infamous Purple Tickets

2009-01-20T14:28:00.003-05:00

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 advancements amidst gunfire and shrapnel. Imagine fighting the totality of weather and crowds for hours on end, all the way from 6am to 11am EDT before reaching the entrance gate. Imagine the profound sense of disappointment when said gate was closed and not accepting any entrants for any reason. Imagine holding the official inaugural ticket in shivering hands, a supposed golden ticket (purple, in fact, of the Official Inaugural Celebration variety) that held little value from that moment forward. Imagine the build-up and excitement dissipating as no other places were available to bear witness directly with own eyes as little time was left before start of ceremonies. Imagine the extreme frustration of discovering that many people without official tickets clogged the area and inevitably blocked entrance to those with tickets, inevitably taking seats to which they were not entitled. Imagine staring at those official tickets and wondering what a morning of such highs and lows really meant when the inauguration was out of sight and out of reach.

An uncommon fate that befell our delegates on Inauguration Day, but the event was not a loss. With the excitement of a city that had never seen the same size crowd before - and arguably never again in our lifetimes - there were many logistical blunders that were left unreported. Both lax and overzealous crowd control from a security staff that was not always equipped to handle mega rallies such as what became of the Inauguration. People with medical conditions, some of which led to ambulance arrivals and further confusion. Onlookers trapped by barricades and made to wait for hours while others whose luck placed them more favorably on the Mall were able to exit with relatively minimal delay.

These stories became part of the historic fabric woven from the experiences of thousands who were took part in the day that unfolded - including the heart-breaking events that awaited those who held infamous Purple Tickets. Turns out that our delegates had plenty of company in their state of heartbreak with the countless other Purple ticketholders who experienced the same fate. I had to chuckle as the inauguration balls following the ceremony turned up a number of hapless Inauguration Day stories, and the common thread tying most of these accounts of misfortune together? Purple tickets...

Historic Morning

2009-01-20T09:51:00.005-05:00

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 Church across from the White House, and took the ceremonial coffee with President Bush and the First Lady, the crowds continued to arrive and the cameras continued to roll. Fitting that these images are shared across the country, a common American experience alongside what all the thousands are experiencing on the National Mall. An historic morning, and we are all there.

Happy Birthday RVD...

2009-01-18T10:24:00.002-05:00

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

Ground Zero from the Ground Up

2009-01-15T12:32:00.000-05:00

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" wrangling of city planners, developers, and concerned citizens. I suppose the sub-freezing temperatures and blustery wind tunnels contributed to slow efforts on that particular day, but the story is broader than temperature.

Nevertheless, my view was unobstructed. There is still great promise in what might result from that large plot of land now hollowed of foundation and infrastructure. The afternoon's mood framed by brilliant sunshine, I connected to the general American sentiment of hope brought by an incoming president who has taken on skillfully the dreams of Americans these days. Who knows what the next months will truly bring, but for now, it is thrilling to think about building again and possibilities. If only for a moment I have this reflection, though, as my presentation was still due to the boss at 2pm.

Countdown to Inauguration

2009-01-14T19:45:00.008-05:00

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 secretly worry over political appointments and cabinet positions. All await January 20th as a day of amazing anticipation and spectacle - the swearing-in of a new president and the celebration of any number of inauguration balls.

Thanks to my wife's impeccable timing and connections, we received tickets to one of the ten official inauguration balls at which President Obama will make a grand appearance. Naturally, I am excited - but not to meet the newly sworn-in president. I am more excited to partake in an historic series of events and a public mood that hearken back to the pomp and circumstance of such past eras. When black tie was the norm, and ladies presented themselves formally to society. When civilty was the norm, and people across the land celebrated for a cause larger than themselves. When epoch-making was the norm, and achieving greatness was a badge of honor and not a disgraceful pursuit.

Regardless of reason for public captivation with Barack Obama's inauguration (Race? Bush? History? Change?), I look forward to his coronation day as a chance to enjoy a brief dalliance with the rituals of prior generations. And with less than a week to inauguration, let the anticipation build and the countdown begin.

Photograph

2009-01-12T08:47:00.005-05:00

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"...

A Quiet Morning

2009-01-09T08:31:00.003-05:00

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 morning and a cup of coffee steady me for more creativity to come.

A Slow Morning

2009-01-07T08:35:00.002-05:00

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.

A Fresh Start

2009-01-06T23:41:00.002-05:00

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 who said something that has stuck with me ever since: "If you are not doing something today that does not make you feel uncomfortable, you are not challenging yourself and growing as a person."

Here I am at the beginning a new year, ready for what this year might bring and what it might entail. A fresh start, and I am ready to engage, onward from this entry...

p.s. - thanks for some sunshine from those out there who are thoughtful to check in - small blurbs from friends make splendid surprises any day of the week.

Everyday Love Poem to my Wife

2008-11-06T08:16:00.006-05:00

Over a year of marriage carries

Happiness, love, and sometimes cranberries
But eventually the pace slows down,
Work intrudes, some days a frown
And suddenly the world has changed.
What we must do is simply rearrange
The days so that other things fit neatly
In their own places, and move on sweetly
To the beauties of the everyday together.
Because there is love everywhere, wherever
You shall be - and perhaps also Rosie -
This is a good thing naturally,
So good to state it thus and remember
That only frigid mornings in November
Can keep us apart, but only so long
As the work day lasts because so strong
Is our pact that I worry not a wink -
Your loveliness is worth so much, I think.

Rainy Day

2008-10-25T12:18:00.002-05:00

The house is quiet, I am typing away with the patter of rain providing rhythmic backdropping to the pinging of keys. I am revising my resume for the first time in almost 3 years, just because it is a good time to take stock in. No worries on my mind, just enjoying the low murmur and quiet.

I suppose a rainy day can provide the backdrop for silent repose, I am not sure why such days get that sort of association. The point is less important than the repose that I am getting after one-day trips this week to New Jersey and Charlotte and late nights on presentations in between. Perhaps a rainy day is the best I could hope for to force a slowdown and gain some recharge time.

Finally, I suppose this recharge time provides a good opportunity to revisit the more creative parts of my brain which have seemingly gone dormant in the last few months. I shall resuscitate as necessary to balance the massive hours that are currently consumed by work pursuits. All these thoughts hold together simply to cause me procrastination from finishing this revised resume, and I guess it is now time to get on with it. Back to other thoughts, back to this rainy day.

Autumn Chill

2008-10-23T08:47:00.002-05:00

I am in a wandering mindset these days, with the amount of work projects and random personal tasks that clutter my brain. At the same time, I sense better days coming. Perhaps it is the autumn chill that has suddenly fallen across Maryland and the portending of a winter close at hand. Halloween is nearby, which means the end-of-year holiday season is ready to start up again (Halloween to Thanksgiving to Hanukah/Christmas to New Year's). I wonder what has happened to the months in between, my one-year wedding anniversary celebrated on a whim in Ohio, and the submerge that my that current job position has placed me under.

Maybe less thought is needed to decipher this mood, as the onset of autumn chill is as good a cause as any for this state of mind. Alas, I will shake that half-numb feeling in my toes, a clear suggestion that the house is noticeably cooler than even a few days ago.

A Stack of Business Cards

2008-10-22T08:39:00.002-05:00

A business life is one of constant meetings, introductions, ideas, proposals, and decisions that bring one into contact with all sorts of people. Since I am living more of the business life these days than I would care to know, I am all too familiar with this stream of activities. I am also behind in a number of pursuits, both in and out of work, that are the result of this business life, and for this I am annoyed. But all I have is a stack of business cards to show for that 2 months, a very small consolation for the efforts.

Fleeting Thoughts

2008-10-20T23:11:00.003-05:00

Tuesday on a Midnight, and my thoughts waver. I am laying on a hotel bed in New Jersey, gathering lucid thoughts that interspersed a drive up the NJ Turnpike listening to a Rufus Wainwright CD from 2003. Remembering past trysts in New York City, days of youth now burnt-out filaments of a bulb no longer lit. Dramatically said but not far from reality - and in the best sense of the analogy as I am unequivocally happy in this current life.

I try to catalog these thoughts for further inspiration as I realize their reminder is but a passing ghost. Thoughts such as Central Park coincidental meetings and all-night Alphabet City revelries are enchanting as they saunter through the mind in time with the soundtrack; I am speechless for their occurrence and mindless for what I try to remember of their essence as I drift asleep in this midnight dream state. Some day, I will have nothing left of this remembrance nor the half-coherent states of mind that produce such thoughts. I anticipate, though, that these fleeting thoughts will pile up like firewood for the winter, and their contribution will be much like wood on the fire to carry me through the cool of the late autumn of my future life.

Hello Again

2008-10-20T08:03:00.002-05:00

For the first time since I started this blog in 2003, I have had a hiatus. A month passed, I noticed, without so much as a post. It appears that I have lost some inspiration, which does seem to come and go like any good rain cloud. I hope to get drenched again soon, but this should suffice to start the counter afresh for more posts to come. Hello again, it has been some time.

Hello Beijing!

2008-08-08T08:43:00.004-05:00

8/8/08 - it is a lucky number in Chinese, and a lucky day for those of us that find ourselves here in Beijing. The air is thick with smog, and the mood is thickening with anticipation of what is about to happen, namely the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympics!

The summer is usually a hot time here in China, and this summer is no exception (feels kind of like DC, if you ask me), and we have been hanging out in Tianemen Square (National Mall) to soak in the cultural sights and sounds of this great capital city. But there is always watermelon (still some in the fridge), a Chinese summertime pastime it seems.

Anyway, off to the show (work), I must be going where all the people are (in the office) so that I can continue dreaming about this Chinese spectacle of an Olympics (on the tv).

(Excuse the daydream, as I was remembering a trip to China in 2006 where the anticipation for the upcoming Olympics was already quite high - I will be watching on television just like most of the others here in the US. Handy picture for today, though, don't you think?)

Remembering Disney via SMS

2008-07-29T13:37:00.005-05:00

It's been a few months since my trip to Disney with Wendy, and I was remembering all those wonderful memories. What got me was the list of text messages that I sent myself to remember where we parked during the days. Here it goes:

+ Journey 9 back under the first tram pole
+ tb1 - self park
+ Pluto 16 almost at the end of the road
+ Amaze 31 - right near the front
+ Dinosaur 30 - first row, about 35 cars down
+ Film 33
+ Pluto 21 near the front!
+ Dinosaur 34 - about 20 cars down
+ Happy 87 - bleh, it's 8 cars in from the center

It's all coming back - where magic lives and where dreams come true as Disney would say!

Upon Reading Letters from Younger Days

2008-07-24T08:50:00.004-05:00

What words are used to describe the thoughts that no longer come,
Ideas of a prior life that once was brimming with angst and some
Ideals chased for the sake of love and beauty.
Now the same things trend towards duty
Of commitment and relationship, career,
Tending home, animals, finances, debts in arrears,
Promises replaced by practicalities,
Hopes supplanted by fears,
Balance subtracted by the same things that gave life instead.
What I ponder and somehow dread,
That memories chase me like ghosts,
Same fears that act as hosts
For what captures hopes and turns the scene
About what life can mean
When “settling down” means more than settling
And “taking stock” means more than stock taking.
Here it goes, as will suffice,
A soundtrack earned at great price
Of melody swift through dreams
Risen like phoenix from youth, seems
So far away to the extent reachable,
Today unthinkable,
Tomorrow even further from the march
Of time immemorial, away from harsh
Frame of what inspired these words anyway -
Letters from younger days packed away.

Contemplate

2008-06-19T13:21:00.005-05:00

The next generation will likely never know what a rotary phone is, much less a "landline" as it is defined today. No wondering how to call long-distance without an operator (an innovation from the 1960's), no wondering how to self-install a phone in the house (an innovation from the 1970's), no marveling at how phones work without cables & wires (an innovation from the 1980's), no wonderment at how a phone takes more than voice calls (an innovation from the 1990's), and no bewilderment at the amount of information & services available instantly from the touchable screen of a mobile phone (an innovation for the 21st century and beyond).

As one who has worked around wireless and telecommunications for several years now, I contemplate the progress of these technologies within the context of the ever-changing face of society. What our experience has become is the currently acknowledged "way we do it around here". In the next couple of decades, these methods and tools will become as archaic as the switchboard operator is to my generation (and a contemplation that can still befuddle those over 100 years old, some of whom might have never dialed the prefix '1' before a long distance phone call).

We are of a generation that no longer has any living connection with the Civil War and, very soon, World War I also (an article from the Tampa St. Petersburg Times recounts only one US veteran left from the "war to end all wars", as far as can be discerned by records and investigation). The feverish pitch is picking up to save what is now left of the stories of the "Greatest Generation" and the WWII veterans that helped to make the US the superpower that it has become.

What becomes of these lives we lead as so vital today is nothing more than tired stories for future generations that will struggle to relate. Contemplate we must, but trudge on we will, for the progress of our generation will sustain us and relegate us all to the same dustheap of history to which our forefathers have already contributed.

What's Old is New

2008-06-12T06:58:00.002-05:00

Somehow I got tagged to install phone lines the past few weeks. It has been an adventure climbing poles, skinning wire, and putting Network Interface Devices (NIDs) on the side of imaginary houses, becoming the true service technician I was presumably meant to be. I would have written off the past couple of weeks as trouble and tried to move quickly on from the incident, but I have taken a few gems away from the class. Namely, there are a lot of personalities in this world and a lot of perspectives just waiting to be heard.

Like last night. I spent an evening jabbing 25 cable pairs into a simulated apartment cable box, pretending to enable a building for telephone service. In the course of conversation, I stumbled upon some ideas long ago buried in my head - the idea of what's old is new again. I was talking with a former anthropologist & illustrator and current interactive producer about the trends in social networking. The idea that something is different this time around, we wandered to the subject of life stages. And the Roman Empire. And color theory (remember ketchup-mustard-pickle-pepper?). What was most striking is the commonality of the human condition, and the shared bonds we have as the psychological level with our ancestors. Above all else, we are social creatures and yearn to communicate with others. That's the whole point of telecommunications. Which led to a discussion of party lines from the rural past, but that's another story.

Before our 7:30pm "lunchtime" was over, this dialogue resolved itself so that we could all get on to our inside wiring of jacks and wall mounts exercise. But the point lingers, and my mind is opened for a brief moment again.

Nostalgia

2008-06-07T00:11:00.003-05:00

I remember watching "The Wonder Years" when I was in junior high school; it was a show that followed my own progression through the awkward adolescent years. I came across the show's ending again on YouTube and was transported to those younger days when life was more carefree. In the moment, I journeyed through so many memories that passed between now and then. I remembered distinctly a connecting moment when I studied abroad in Milan, kicking a futbol back and forth with my flatmate Rico. I was cherishing that moment at the time, particuarly after hearing an "oldie but goodie" on MTV Italia - Bob Seger's "Night Moves."

To revel in such a moment is to feel connection to the human experience and the series of moments in between that define each of us. Some are shared, and some are unique to the individual. But all the moments add up to define one person's story, and it is a story that has a separate arc than any other story that had ever been told before - or since. I can feel this strongly, and it is powerful, gut-wrenching, and comforting. After all, it is the human condition.

My week ends with this feeling as I wander off to bed. I am grateful for all my moments, and I am lucky to have the memories on which to build my future. A pleasant and profound thought to carry my dreams tonight.

Inspiration

2008-06-04T10:36:00.003-05:00

There are unique moments in time where inspiration grabs a writer. It is not possible to know when these moments will arrive - they just do, like a random wave tumbling into shore. I have felt these moments from time to time and what effect they have on my psyche. For that instant, I am transported to a world where possibility stretches out beyond the conceptions of my mind and into places unknown and exciting.

It is an adventure when inspiration comes because creativity follows rushing in to force. The pulse quickens, the ears perk up, the eyes dart more quickly, and the mind races to orchestrate all the movement. For a writer, this is the time for haste - inspiration is powerful yet fleeting. When inspiration dissipates, it leaves as quickly as it strikes. A writer can be left hanging on inspiration's cliff, fingernails dug in to avoid the mundane crash to the canyon below.

Fruits of inspiration's labor are often sweetest once they are pulled - and never more will they taste the same afterward. Every harvest is different, and it is possible to cultivate more of what inspiration's bounty brings. In this way, a writer must react to the dictates of inspiration so that creativity can find the light of day beyond dark recesses of the psyche. I can only hope that inspiration visits more than once-a-moon as the times between can be barren and cool.

Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to Me...

2008-05-06T09:27:00.005-05:00

I look outside, and it is a beautiful day. I look into my email box, and it is full but promising to be cleared. I look across my desk, and I see some working room to get some things done. I look forward to what the end of the day means - some celebrating with Wendy and Rose outside of this stuffy office environment.

After all, it is my birthday - and I have un canzone da (ie. a song by) 883 in my mind. For those not as familiar with Italian culture, 883 is an iconoclastic Italian rock band led by Max Pezzali; his work acts as an anthem for many of my generation, catchy pop tunes with a bit of a clever edge in lyrics and hooks.

I'll let Max take me into a happy and reflective mood - uno in piu', happy birthday to me, happy birthday to you...

Celebrating Home

2008-05-05T08:47:00.004-05:00

We all have one place we call home - be it a birthplace, place of hardship, place of kinship, or current place of residence. Every place leaves its mark, and we respond to what we connect with and what we feel most strongly about. Of course, that one place we call home can change - but it is always that one place above others. In the case of my current situation, home is feeling more like the townhouse in Maryland. As much as Ohio has special memories and San Francisco captures my imagination, I am rooted in the place where I take up residence with my wife.

I was reminded of this sensation when I returned last evening from a weekend visit to my parents' house. Rose (our special new family member) signaled the return from our long car ride with a certain vitality - she was almost bouncing off the walls in recognizing her familiar stomping ground. Her visible excitement in celebrating home was a good representation of what we were both feeling - a calmness and a connection to the place we lay our head these days. It was later made perfect when Wendy returned from the store, and we were all together... home.

It was a great feeling. No matter where life takes us, there is always home to where to return.

Talking Heads

2008-05-01T08:47:00.002-05:00

I am in a conference call right now. There are a number of people talking, and I have a headset on. I am trying to check some emails, but I am not able to complete the tasks in front of me. I am wondering what happened to the week (it is now Thursday), and I am wondering what my wife is doing at home. I am somewhat disposed on what it is that I need to accomplish today, and I have an action item that I have been tracking for weeks now that needs to be completed.

So I will leave this entry where the day starts - the end of this conference call. Now that it is done, I have no excuses for the talking heads!

Media Overload

2008-04-30T12:31:00.003-05:00

I was looking for the news of the day - whether the Federal Reserve was going to lower its interest rate. As a homeowner who carries various forms of debt, I suddenly care about the movement of the interest rate on my personal life. But when I went out to find the news, I stumbled and got lost in the middle of my quest to get a simple piece of news.

Two words to describe my stumbling: media overload. The internet certainly magnifies this trend, but it has been happening for several decades now when one takes into account cable television and niche-oriented magazines. The benefit of a wider variety of available media is both choice and value. I can now connect with Italian radio stations that I might have listened to from the past - and I can find some arcane forms of entertainment - classic 50's television like "The Twilight Show" and classic 40's radio like Dragnet - that were seemingly lost in the analog media world of previous decades and certainly out of my price range. The detriment, though, is an overwhelming sea of information that only becomes harder to navigate by the day. I can picture in my mind some movie like "The Perfect Storm" and the image of a fishing boat bracing for a wave the size of the Empire State Building rising up to smother everything in its wake.

Perhaps I am in control of what I watch, listen to, and read, but my discipline vacillates depending on how much focus I can muster - and how much sleep I can manage from the night before. In either case, I have to watch my own media consumption habits lest I get consumed in site after site after channel after station of content. After all, media overload is an unique benefit of the digital age which also happens to be a growing affliction.

A New Direction

2008-04-29T09:44:00.002-05:00

A couple of thoughts passed through my head this morning:
1) The romanticized days of the "Lost Decade" generation - I was picturing the book cover of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "Tender is the Night" and recalling the South of France

2) The general health of our new dog Rose, who got sick yesterday morning (don't feed dogs corn - or at least this one) but appeared quite lively this morning and quite her usual self

3) The chilling winds of a post-but-not-pre-spring morning - it seems that the Mid-Atlantic refuses to accept the well-blossoming trees as signs of warmer weather

4) The bowl of cereal that strangely complemented a review of the work presentation that I needed to publish before the 8 o'clock hour

5) The enthusiasm of aspiring MBA applicants who are looking for the "magic answer" to ease their angst and open the door for a place at their business school of choice (ie. my prior evening spent downtown talking to prospective IMD participants)

All these things were sitting on the front of my mind as I wondered how to focus clearly for the day. Now that the day is a few hours in, I am off in a new direction and catching these thoughts as they wander about to catalog for inspiration.

Another New Family Member

2008-04-27T10:09:00.004-05:00

I have never been much of a dog person but that is nothing against dogs - I just have not been much of a pet person, period. Sure, there was the rabbit that I had in secondary school who mysteriously ran away in the middle of one sweltering summer night. And there were the cats that hung around my parent's house, first to catch rodents and then to amuse my siblings. But after moving out for college and going on my own, I had traveled alone without animal companionship. That is, of course, until I met wife-to-be who turned my pet-free world upside down.

Needless to say, my family has expanded - but it is not just the in-laws 10 minutes down the road. Last summer, three new family members moved in to the koi pond in our backyard, who somehow brought along a fourth. And when my wife started begging me for more life around the house, I finally gave in for one more - a particular Pomeranian pooch named Rose.

Having Rose around has been an initial shock to the system, but she has made herself at home hopping up and down the steps of the townhouse. And as I have gotten to know this sassy lassy a little bit more, she has started to grow on me. Although it is an adjustment having a new little one to take care of around the house, I think I might turn out to tolerate dogs more than I might have cared to admit. But I think it is just Rose and the way that she cocks her head when looking at me to melt my resolve.

So, we have another new family member, and it looks like my world will be pet-free no more.

Apologies

2008-04-24T11:16:00.002-05:00

For those who have followed this blog for some time and have experienced a lull, apologies for the "light" reading. For those who are wondering what happened to the writer, apologies again - he has been indisposed from the online realm. For those who have been caught up in the same daily travails and the mundane as said writer, apologies for joining the same state. For those who would like to see the pen lifted from the pad, apologies that I will likely try but not quite be able to do that as often as you would like.

For those who find this sort of entry a bit, well, muffled and disheartened, apologies that I do not have more to say. That being said, I do intend to share more words as they become available to share. Which is to say, I'm working on writing some more moving forward. To which I would add, apologies if I do not quite follow through. I'm working on it. Apologies, but nobody is perfect - or as prolific as hoped!

Some rounds of golf in sms

2008-03-26T09:27:00.004-05:00

A running commentary on my sister's rounds of golf over the weekend...

Day one
12 down, 8 over
Refreshing... +8 thru 13
golf on the rocks: we have lost track of what lauren's score is, possibly +9, +10, or +11 thru 14
unsolved mystery - par makes it now either +9 or +10 thru 15
an easter miracle - +9 or +10 thru 16
a stub a day keeps the pars away: +10 or +11 thru 17
sand and sprinkler, ends on a double tinkler: +12 or +13 after 18
a ray of sunshine: a finish of 84 (+12)

after day 1, lauren was t-64th (out of 113) with her 84; team was t-14th (out of 20) with 332

Day two
happy easter - the lord has risen lauren's doubles from the grave - praise god, +2 after hole 1
this little light of mine, i'm goin' let it shine... +3 thru 2
hallelujah! +4 thru 3
jesus saves! +6 thru 4 and we are driving back to dc - have a wonderful easter morning and talk to you later

...

Shopping Poems

2008-03-17T22:25:00.004-05:00

SMS poems from my mobile phone on an afternoon shopping trip with my wife:

1: dressing room to think of sizes short and color tall - many racks of fabric creation with buttons and frills to try many on

2: waiting room to play with phone and witness body creations one at a time - this is anticipation and boredom

3: time for quick and happy thoughts, background music helps the mood with all the others browsing at a certain speed

4: success comes slowly but swiftly mood rises with success - shoes upon shoes ahead and more clothes to try for finding all exuberance

5: memory is short for the next piece but somehow related to all the retail cities of the world - remember london paris and rome all the same

6: looks like success, call the registers, ring the joy buy wait for more exuberant pieces please, anticipation and boredom still remain

7: clothes are becoming the mood and color matters much as music strums the emotion - remember the intention hidden for purchases

8: suddenly forgot the theme and filtered post-punk pop rhythms to toe taps and finger snaps as statuesque reveals her - the song now changes

9: forget the clothes and remember the mood - music color feeling anticipation boredom exuberance purchases connection repeat

Contracts

2008-02-20T11:44:00.002-05:00

A normal person likely never reads any of the "fine print" for the product & services that she buys. Terms of condition, liabilities, obligations, indemnification, rights & permissions - these are all concepts that most of us unwittingly agree to when we click through a website or sign a waiver form for new merchandise.

Lucky for me that I get to spend some time occasionally drafting such agreements - and figuring out exactly what we sign up for without really knowing. Crazy stuff, to be sure, these contracts. All I can say is think twice before you sign off or click through the next legalese - you might not realize what you have just done!

Nothing Really

2008-02-19T15:52:00.002-05:00

So this is what life is like on the other side. As a single guy, I had the time. It was always there. Yeah, I was busy - but it was my time. Work out? Done. Go out to eat? Fine. Fly to Chicago for the weekend? Sure, why not. A quick jot to the blog? Ok, can do it before dinner.

The situation now is a bit different. I have a real job. I am married. I have a house. Somewhat unlike my prior days where I traveled around with a consulting job (read: did not seem like a real job). Of course, I was single (read: self-sufficiency, no?). I lived out of a suitcase (read: not much "responsibility", just a rent check here and there). The world was my oyster, sometimes with a seat in first-class thanks to the air miles.

I think of this transition for a moment, just trying to throw up a blog entry to get on the board. Because many days I just run out of time and frankly, do not have the energy to make some noise. Nothing really, except that the world has changed - and that darn song "Cats in the Cradle" rumbles in the back of my brain...

Netscape, We Hardly Knew Ye...

2008-01-31T16:01:00.000-05:00

In 1995, I started using email. In my first college days, my friend Virge anointed me with a playful email handle - toddity. She never told me that your email address was somewhat permanent, and I spent the rest of my university days with an username that amused most who got a message from good, old Eudora. At that time, I used Netscape as my web browser.

Fast forward almost 15 years. I moved on first to Internet Explorer (Microsoft had a monopolistic hand in it), and then to Firefox from which I am penning this blog entry. Somewhere along the way, Netscape was acquired by AOL and sent down the river on a slow obsolescence. Until next week, when Netscape will end up on the scrap heap with Prodigy, Compuserve, and Excite@Home.

How much the internet has changed. I can wax poetically on blogs and social networks, but I can also remember messageboards, usenets, IM, forums, web 1.0, HTML, and the world wide web when www. was a foreign concept. The concept is still the same - connecting to the world through a common language. The kids will never know Netscape, but they will know each other better than we could have imagined in the heady 1990's when Eudora was my lifeline and toddity was something of a novelty.

Better Late Than Never

2008-01-30T18:40:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year! (a poem to Wendy)
As January ends, outside is windy
I'm leaving the office, and blog is empty
For this year's entries, this is the first -
Of all the droughts, this might be worst
Of sparse words and spells of creativity.
Much as there is to praise, I can't complain
Of the life that now occupies my brain
In these winter days - and nights often too -
When work, life, and love make strange brew.
Happy birthday to my dad,
Lest I forget this as well
As I pack my things at hand
And reflect for trifle spell.
Enough of this, I shall resolve
To write more for hopes absolve
The state I'm in - all work and no play -
Dull boy I become is what some say.
A few thoughts, these, I make as mark
As a solemn pause to act as lark,
For this entry portends what must come -
Poetry and story should be in great sum!

Presents Under the Tree...

2007-12-21T13:40:00.000-05:00

I am ready for a break since I cannot seem to get out from under my current work situation. Good thing that the holiday is upon us so that I can slip into the proper mood and be of good cheer. Wendy decided that it was a good idea to break the cycle and jump-start on the festivities by sneaking in a couple of presents last night. Wendy & I have been fortunate to share in some wonderful moments this year, and some of those moments have been blessed with the presence of good friends from far and wide. I take a quick moment to thank all those people (you all know who you are!) for being in our respective lives and look forward to an even better year in 2008.

So much to celebrate - it was easy to let Christmas overtake us. Presents under the tree, and I look forward to what is inside all those intricate wrappings!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

100,000... and Counting!

2007-12-18T21:49:00.000-05:00

The last milestone from my trusty, now old, Volkswagen GTI VR6 was 50,000 miles. It was December 2004, and I was driving cross-country from California to Ohio, on my way ultimately to Switzerland and a year abroad in graduate school. It took 8.5 years to reach that milestone. Little did I know that the next 50,000 miles would take just under a quarter of that time.

I remember so much about this car. My mother dinged it not more than a week after it found itself into my parent's driveway; 10 years later, it would be hard for that to happen again - there is no more basketball pole, and the lane is wider after the house renovation.

At 99,998 miles, I remembered the days in college. After an epic trip with my father cross-country from Ohio to Los Angeles, I wound up with a car on-campus for my sophomore year. What a privilege to have wheels - and what a benefit to friends. There was even that one evening where an impromptu van jam ended up with 7 in the car, from front seat to trunk. Diddy Riese and its famous cookies never saw so many folks pile out of a car that size!

At 99,999 mjiles, I remembered the consulting days on the west coast. Most of that time saw "my baby" lounging indoors, parking from garage to garage as I wracked up the airmiles. I estimated over five years that my air mileage was upwards of 400,000 - but my car miles were 10x less than that. There were a couple of harrowing moments, including a break-in that stripped my car of the Sony stereo that my little brother gave me. It must have been worth something, I hope the thief made a good return on my misfortune.

At 100,000 miles, I was less than a mile from home - which reminded me of the stat that 90% of accidents happen within that distance. I pulled over to document this moment and thought about that moment and all those wonderful memories through the past decade.

A good reflection, to be sure, for this wonderful German machine has been through thick and thin - all the way back to college. Now, it joins me into my married life with Wendy. She gives me a hard time because my baby has faced some mechanical hurdles this year, what with replacement of ignition coils and wires as latest repair. I rationalize every time that it is cheaper to fix than outright buy a new car, but she is not convinced. Perhaps she knows better that I will have a hard time giving up my baby which has traveled so many roads before with me. At 100,000 and counting, it is nice to travel those roads with a trusted friend.

Nothing But Magic

2007-12-17T21:22:00.000-05:00

It was Saturday night, and the Magic Kingdom was packed: teens acting cool with their friends, young tots fighting valiantly against fatigue, stroller babies laid out in peaceful slumber, and exhausted parents encircling them all with consternation. First, it was the spectacular fireworks, then it was the light parade. All the while, I was clinging to waking hours by the sheer joy I was experiencing with Wendy. What can make this place nothing but magic?

It was the place where I raced in fascination as a kid - what boy can resist being a pirate and getting "trapped" in an enchanted yet haunted house? It was the place where I proposed to my future wife - what guy can resist being a prince sweeping his damsel off her feet? It is the place where creativity is free to roam and imagination is celebrated and not relegated to practicality - what person can resist the urge of freedom and self-expression that results?

Perhaps it is too much to ascribe a make-believe place with such hyperbole; after all, that same boyhood charm of Disney World today seems much more miniature than before. Perhaps I am negating the jostling experience that getting into the Magic Kingdom can be - and what a crush of people any time of year! True as this all might be, there is still only one place on earth like Disney World. Even the build-up to this short weekend excursion away from a month's worth of work craziness could not spoil the wonders. That must mean that magic really does live in Orlando, where the kids know what Pooh and Peter Pan really can do.

Not So Magic

2007-12-14T00:05:00.000-05:00

Southwest Airlines has many supporters - of which I am not one. Call me snobbish from prior days of inter-continental business travel, but I have never fancied the inevitable cattle call that comes when the gate agent opens up the mic. Tonight her call was honest and to the point: "line up, you know, just like gym class when you were long ago in school... and no so long ago for some of you." Correction duly noted - it is not just boomers with a pocket of pension money to burn. Students, military, modest couples, entrepreneurs, regional sales folks, the crowd was mixed - and all the more so because my flight was heading to Orlando. Ah yes, Orlando, that oasis of middle-class holiday-seeking so spot on attracting the bulls-eye median of the US population that chain restaurants like Red Lobster test their new fixin's down there. Simple reason: if the Disney crowd likes it, then anytown USA will like it too.

Somehow I turn out to be a supporter regardless. Standing in line amidst another rocky evening of slight weather conditions throwing off taut, yield-optimizing flight schedules, it seems every time I travel now, the flight is not scheduled to depart on time. Not always long - like the last sentence - but enough to reinforce the aggravation of 21st century travel. Tonight the delay was 30 minutes, but somehow I am willing to put up with it. Perhaps because I am going to the Magic Kingdom where all the magic went down last year, but perhaps also because I am on a budget. Yes, those high-flying consulting days are gone where I actually have to buy the ticket myself.

So I am in this line thankful that I can get a cheap flight on Southwest. Yeah, the crowd is a bit strange, and I am standing around like in high school gym class, but people are nice enough, and the flight is only two hours. Not so magic, but I guess it will do.

Long Days at the Office

2007-12-13T02:07:00.001-05:00

I thought the week might get better. If only I could that last presentation done over dinner at the hotel, I would be able to leave from HQ at a reasonable hour. If only we would have reached resolution sooner on some big-picture dialogue then I could have gotten home before the strike of midnight.

No dice. I hate to think that I am working like my father, but in these days, it is true. Granted, the long hours are paying dividends, both in gaining experience and feeling a sense of accomplishment. I am getting better at being more productive. Still, it is long days at the office - and there are other things to do than work.

What long hours at the office lead to...

So Close to Magic

2007-12-10T21:10:00.000-05:00

This week is already proving challenging. Driving up to New Jersey on Sunday night, I will be doing work from before dawn to after midnight, hopefully getting a few hours of sleep in between. In the meantime, there are meetings to attend to, presentations to make up, calls to dial in, action items to resolve, and all sort of other items to take care of. It's a mess, and I'm not entirely happy to highjack my schedule.

That being said, there is light at the end of the tunnel - namely, Disney World. To celebrate all that this hard work has brought Wendy and I, we are heading off to Orlando for the weekend, a sort of early holiday present to step out of the every day and into the special. So close to magic, I can taste it - past this week's craziness, that is...

Silent Sunday

2007-12-09T11:35:00.000-05:00

The house is quiet. The computer is humming. Keystrokes break the silence with staccato taps. The desk is cleared, and the notebook is open. Pen standing by, notations as necessary. This is the set-up for a moment all too brief, where concentration and activity meet to accomplish something often anticipated but never realized - a closed list of action items.

Desk, computer, notebook, pen, cup of coffee (sometimes water or tea) - this is all it takes for the knowledge worker to realize a new world. Often, it takes more than this to find the necessary inspiration - website, photograph, song, even poetry as aid - and even then, the results do not materialize. It is the bain of knowledge work that output cannot be summoned like the clouds for rain.

On this silent Sunday, I feel like I have summoned my own clouds. Let me take to work in order to make it pour - just like the grey pervasion of this day's precipitation.

Let It Snow (to stop traffic)

2007-12-05T21:07:00.000-05:00

I had my doubts about commuting to work this morning. I thought twice about the endeavor when I looked out the window as I made my daily lunch. An odd silence echoed the sight - a parking lot on the highway. To say that Washington DC traffic is horrible is an understatement - every year it climbs the tables to now reside at #2 worst in the US behind NYC - but today's sight on I-270 that runs from Frederick to the Beltway was unusual. Car-to-car parking lot, literally stopped on a five-lane highway.

Out at the car, I made an easy decision - I would take the backroads to the office. My decision was confirmed when the daily traffic report made my mobile phone vibrate incessantly (every morning, 8am, the traffic report!). I turned on the radio, and the news became worse than the text messages - back-ups on 495 outer loop, inner loop, 395, 95 north and south, Baltimore-Washington Parkway, George Washington Parkway, 50, 66, Ohio Avenue, New York, nearly every major route in and around DC with at least one accident.

It took awhile to get going as I waited for lines of cars trying the same trick as me. Then, I was held up by one, two, three, four, five accidents on the back roads - which were mere stop-offs on a slow caravan out to Laurel. 90 minutes later, and I phoned home to Wendy to let her know that it was a long ride.

No bother, though - I switched the radio on to local 97.1, the "official radio station for the holidays" that has been playing around-the-clock holiday music since before Thanksgiving. I was dialed in and smiling as "Let It Snow" warmed up the car. Absolutely right...

"A Turner, I own one..."

2007-12-03T21:06:00.000-05:00

For some reason, the words of a Rufus Wainwright song went through my head as I ambled through the National Gallery of Art. Two special exhibits are on during this period: J.M.W. Turner, the great English landscape painter of the 19th century, and Edward Hopper, the iconic yet laconic American painter of the 20th century. Two different wings of the gallery with two distinctly different takes on the world.

I took great pleasure letting the afternoon slipping away and frolicking with my wife; after all, this is what newlyweds do, right? In spending the requisite time studying some of the works, though, I got to thinking: who are these family of so-and-so and endowment/foundation groups who own these works anyway?

Special art exhibits have a penchant for bringing together the varied works of an artist that have long-since scattered the collecting elites. Some of these pieces come from museums naturally, but a good number come from private collectors, some of whom remain nameless on the walls of the exhibition space. I wondered who these people might be and how deep their art appreciation went, particularly when I witnessed the prancing antics of a young girl who was touring the museum with her mother. In her bounding excitement for the works and while answering the children's museum guide pamphlet of "age-appropriate" activities, she came quite close to touching several paintings in pointing out the violent waves and inscrutable figures of various Turner landscapes. Seeing the faces of those private collectors whose works were almost marred by the innocent joy of a child would have been priceless and brought me back to Rufus' song. He sings of a girl who falls in love with her art teacher in high school, many years later to marry a rich executive and own artwork of the masters she once studied. In her moment, she wonders what has happened to her beloved art teacher as she now amasses without feeling what she once studied with fervor at his feet.

Perhaps these varied vignetted paint the picture, so to speak, of art and life and love and loss. Who knows? Maybe those private collectors would find it timeless that a five-year-old marred their precious works in a liminal moment of happiness. Who knows? Maybe those private collectors would be just as heartless as a stereotype would portray them, stacks of money around with no chance for contentment. Who knows? Maybe one day I will be able to own just one of Turner's melodramatic yet majestic landscape paintings or a Hopper moment stuck in a hotel room with a solitary woman. Then again, I doubt the likelihood.

What To Do?

2007-11-28T13:28:00.000-05:00

I am distracted. I am sitting at work and trying to get my head around each of the various things that I have going on and need to move forward. I am organized but not on top of things. I feel at any moment that an order will come down from "on high" (as it usually does) that blows up all these various activities. I am apprehensive to commit to do anything, but then I feel like the rock is rolling fairly slowly uphill. I hope that the email stays in check long enough so that I can bite into the piling workload in other areas.

What to do? Play video games. Go on a date with my wife. Put up the holiday tree (that will come this weekend). Read a book. Pack for a trip. Anticipate for the inevitable intrusion of Wendy's work on our Disney World plans in mid-December. All these wonderful things are enabled by the messiness of the office environment. After all, what pays the bills are what I am supposed to do sitting at this desk. I guess a little motivation is necessary to get geared up for picking away at this mountain of mundane activities.

Winter Wonderland

2007-11-27T09:09:00.000-05:00

Back in Akron for some holiday cheer, the family trekked downtown for the annual Children's Hospital Holiday Tree Festival. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, over 100 holiday trees go up in the John S. Knight Center with all kinds of themes - Akron cheer, Notre Dame & Ohio State spirit, racing, autumn, candlelight, children's dreams, and all other sorts of themes. Throw in Santa Claus, mini-globes, and wreaths, and you've got a cornucopia of holiday fun.

A nice feeling, to be sure. Surrounded by all the decorations that a great holiday should have, the event was for good cause, namely the assistance of children in medical need. Many kids have benefited by the good work that Children's Hospital does both locally and nationally, and it is all too easy to share in such an event for that benefit. And might I mention the reminder that Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa are just around the corner?

So here's to a winter wonderland (photos) and a bevy of holiday trees to make it beautiful.

A Cross Country Championship

2007-11-23T17:33:00.000-05:00

On a cold, snowy morning in Ohio, I ventured out for a morning of competitive golf with the family. Odd, you might say, for such a round of golf at this time of year, but an annual tradition has risen from the post-Thanksgiving food comas in the area. The local country club holds a cross-country golf tourney that reconfigures its course into a nine-hole adventure that criss-crosses the existing layout in new ways. Around practice ranges this way, over the trees that way, a new tee box where the existing fairway starts, and you have a test of golf refreshing and entirely novel. Trouble is that the snow keeps the ball hidden half the time, and assuming that the ball is found, the challenge of keeping hands warm and swinging through the layers of clothing is enough to keep minds off the fact that the feet are frozen.

But no matter. What kept us occupied was the competition between the two threesomes in the group. Surprising birdie after surprising birdie, the fight was to the last hole, when my miracle approach shot from 200 yards out faded closely around the corner pocket of trees and landed softly on the green. When my dad sunk the 20-foot putt, we later found out that not only was our team victorious but that we took all the skins for the day. Meaning a nice, little credit of golf merchandise in the pro shop. 7-under was not too bad and left a series of highlights worth sharing:

Photos at Flickr

Videos at YouTube

Conor dropping a birdie

Steve tree-bound off the tee

Lauren sticking a tee shot

Lauren sinking a putt

Geo dropping his birdie putt

Dad drops a birdie putt

Dad wayward off the tee

Conor works his magic

Dad big with a final birdie

Fun with Facebook

2007-11-21T11:33:00.000-05:00

A random entry before heading off on Thanksgiving holiday - fun with Facebook. The internet fascinates me with its way of evolving the way that people communicate. Ever since the dawn of humanity, we have been working out how to better share our thoughts and feelings with each other. From cave wall scrawl to today's computers and mobile devices, we have come a long way - but the underlying urge to express ourselves has remained fundamental and constant.

Which brings me to Facebook and any number of "social networks" that are out there. The buzz is around what is new and additive to our society - no doubt that MySpace, Facebook, Bebo, and the rest are new sorts of "online communities" that connect people in new ways. No doubt also that the implications for business can be profound and that many business plans are built upon the chance that these sort of social networking sites could change the way that we interact with each other as consumers. But the simple fact of the matter is that this sort of technology makes engaging with friends and acquaintances new and often exciting. In short, fun - and I look forward to the continued onslaught of technology to move us all further up the Maslow hierarchy of needs.