My 2 year old son is at the age where he has discovered that he can have independent thoughts. That, coupled with independent locomotion, has turned him into an avid climber. Despite our repeated corrective comments regarding climbing, whether it be up the refrigerator door, or up the basement door, or up the counter, he has a hard time listening. I think he has inherited the ambitious gene from both sides of his family.
Unfortunately, he has not quite grasped the concept of the idea that even if he can do something, doesn't mean he should do something. But I shouldn't be so hard on him. This is a concept to which most of us adults don't even adhere.
We seem to have this drive marinated into us to rise to the top of our careers, to be the best we can be at our work. Our society has this sort of giddy school girl adoration for such people. Take, for example, two cyber-security conferences I have been to, both of which former FBI cybercrime professionals headlined. They were introduced, including all of their years of experience in fighting crime, as well as their notoriety as speakers. We all gawked at their stories, as well as their skills in hacking into "secure" systems even as they presented.
However, I noticed one very subtle thing about both of them. Neither of them wore wedding rings. Perhaps this was a choice, perhaps they never had interest in marriage and family. But perhaps their story was one of two other scenarios. The first being that they had always wanted to have a family, but their career was taking off, they were spending lots of time at the office, and the opportunities kept slipping away from them until they got fewer and rarer. The second scenario would be much more tragic, that they already had a marriage and possibly even kids, but that they never had enough time for both them and work, and the wife, overwhelmed and disheartened by the reality of an absentee husband, decided she and the kids would be better off on their own, or take their chances in possibly finding another whose priorities were more in line with theirs.
I thought to myself that no matter how sexy their job seemed, rising to that prominence was not for me. It did not fall in line with my priorities of having time at the end of the day, and on weekends for those I love, as well as the other passions and hobbies I have (like writing). :-) That is me, of course. I know that it's very possible that this type of life was maybe all they ever wanted. And in that case, they can consider themselves successful.
But I would say that this sort of self-success mirror of world success is more elusive than we care to think. The world may care about seeing certain things out of people and making judgments based upon that, but it is only a spectator for the "best of" moments of that person's life. That person, on the other hand must live every moment of their own life, including the holes that that pinnacle they have built has created. They therefore should take actions because they want them, and because those actions lead to consequences complementary to their values. It's a hard thing to sort out, and no one is perfect at it, but I hope that those who have forgone ambition for the sake of the less showcase-able aspects of life do not let their satisfaction be squelched by some outside voice saying they could have done better.
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Sunday, April 10, 2016
The "Pay it Forward" Economy
I remember back when I was a teenager taking church youth group trips down to Chicago. Caravans of three or four cars would travel down. A necessary evil of these journeys included traveling through the Illinois tollbooths long before the popularization of automated radio enabled payment systems. We would pull up to the tollbooth operator only to be told that our toll had already been paid for by the car ahead of us. Sometimes we would in turn direct the attendant to direct our payment to the next car, sometimes a complete stranger. Even when we didn't do this, the essence of the good deed remained with us, and I believe this translated into our performing random acts of kindness in the near future.
What motivated us to dismiss this free financial break and pass it on, or what motivated us to do some other sort of service later on? I assert that it was the positive emotional stimulus created by the thought that someone else was thinking of us, and the desire to generate those similar feelings in others.
When I was 17, I was at risk for not finishing something on which I had previously spent a considerable effort. I was a few requirements short of obtaining the Boy Scouts of America Eagle Scout rank, and I had been for about three years. The distractions of high school had taken a hold of me, and I had almost dismissed the prospect of finishing. It took a highly driven GE employed Scoutmaster of the Jack Welch era to take me aside and proverbially slap me upside the head. He told me, “You are so close. This is what you need to do, this is when you will complete it, and this is how I will hold you accountable.” He stood by me until my board of review was complete and I achieved the prestigious rank few Boy Scouts actually achieve. With that, I joined the ranks of numerous generals, presidents, and astronauts.
I now find myself in the position of an assistant scoutmaster, and volunteering to take each of the boys aside and creating a plan for them to advance. The chairman of the troop, when I explained this story to her, said, “Ah, it's your way of paying it forward.”
We live in a very transactional society. Everyone expects some sort of compensation for effort they put out for something outside themselves. Even in the philanthropic world, donors expect their names on plaques, halls, and buildings. Philanthropies attempt to motivate donors by citing the tax benefits individuals will receive. At times, when I have offered help to others, they have given me promises of lunch, or cash, or some other compensation, and feel awkward or indebted if I refuse.
The other day, I was at the dry cleaners, and the person in line in front of me had brought in a coat with a zipper issue. The old Asian lady’s expertise allowed her to fix it in a matter of moments. The lady pulled out her wallet and said, “How much do I owe you?” When the lady waved her off, the woman, a little thrown off, left the store beaming. I beamed too, for while I did not expect free service by any means for my routine cleaning, I knew I was dealing with someone whose passion went beyond treating apparel with chemicals and thread into the realms of personal interaction with fellow humanity.
Imagine a world where this was the norm instead of the exceptional. Imagine a world where people were constantly thinking of ways to “pay it forward”, whatever “it” had been in their distant past? We would have a perpetual economy of good deeds, done for free. The beautiful part of it all is that not all prepaid tolls would translate into more prepaid tolls. Perhaps a recipient of this really didn't have much money, and really benefitted from that prepaid toll. At the same time, that person was adept at and passionate about baking apple pies. Energized by the good deed done to her, she decided to bake an apple pie for a teenaged neighbor who was overwhelmed by his final exams. That teenager so much appreciated the apple pie, that when seeing another neighbor struggling with moving a piece of furniture into the house, he rushes to his aid.
In these instances, people were poor in some aspects, whether it be money or happiness, or physical capability, and wealthy in others. In a pay it forward economy, acts do not have to be difficult or costly, but can at the same time be incredibly significant.
Especially since the acts are not given back to the original person (as would be the case in a transactional economy). This insures the element of the unexpected, the lifeblood of the entire concept. In transactions, even in mindful barters, one person feels obligated to the other, even if in their own mind, to return services with something of equal or greater value. The stress of the obligation dismisses any goodwill that would have otherwise been engendered, and can sometimes lead to spite, especially if there is a wealth differential between the two.
Just imagine the result of any good deed done being followed by first, a refusal of anything in return, and second, if the person wants to give something back, a charge to pay it forward. I think that even if awkward at first, people would readily embrace it. It is hard to forget the ecstasy a thoughtful, unexpected act of kindness or goodwill creates. I think this would stimulate a service oriented economy, which would lead to less hatred and prejudice of those whose issues are not ours. Many of the bickerings and maldeeds would disappear, since they would be considered taboo. Diverse groups of people would gain a greater understanding of each other, thus advancing the wealth of knowledge concerning human nature across our neighborhoods, cities, and globe.
The beauty is that if not revolutionary on a societal level, it will always make a difference on the individual level. So the next time you see someone struggling, do something nice for them that will provide some sort of relief. If they thank you, explain that you are just paying forward the good deeds done to yourself, and encourage them to do the same. You may not see the result of the chain reaction you might create, but the result within yourself will be fantastic
What motivated us to dismiss this free financial break and pass it on, or what motivated us to do some other sort of service later on? I assert that it was the positive emotional stimulus created by the thought that someone else was thinking of us, and the desire to generate those similar feelings in others.
When I was 17, I was at risk for not finishing something on which I had previously spent a considerable effort. I was a few requirements short of obtaining the Boy Scouts of America Eagle Scout rank, and I had been for about three years. The distractions of high school had taken a hold of me, and I had almost dismissed the prospect of finishing. It took a highly driven GE employed Scoutmaster of the Jack Welch era to take me aside and proverbially slap me upside the head. He told me, “You are so close. This is what you need to do, this is when you will complete it, and this is how I will hold you accountable.” He stood by me until my board of review was complete and I achieved the prestigious rank few Boy Scouts actually achieve. With that, I joined the ranks of numerous generals, presidents, and astronauts.
I now find myself in the position of an assistant scoutmaster, and volunteering to take each of the boys aside and creating a plan for them to advance. The chairman of the troop, when I explained this story to her, said, “Ah, it's your way of paying it forward.”
We live in a very transactional society. Everyone expects some sort of compensation for effort they put out for something outside themselves. Even in the philanthropic world, donors expect their names on plaques, halls, and buildings. Philanthropies attempt to motivate donors by citing the tax benefits individuals will receive. At times, when I have offered help to others, they have given me promises of lunch, or cash, or some other compensation, and feel awkward or indebted if I refuse.
The other day, I was at the dry cleaners, and the person in line in front of me had brought in a coat with a zipper issue. The old Asian lady’s expertise allowed her to fix it in a matter of moments. The lady pulled out her wallet and said, “How much do I owe you?” When the lady waved her off, the woman, a little thrown off, left the store beaming. I beamed too, for while I did not expect free service by any means for my routine cleaning, I knew I was dealing with someone whose passion went beyond treating apparel with chemicals and thread into the realms of personal interaction with fellow humanity.
Imagine a world where this was the norm instead of the exceptional. Imagine a world where people were constantly thinking of ways to “pay it forward”, whatever “it” had been in their distant past? We would have a perpetual economy of good deeds, done for free. The beautiful part of it all is that not all prepaid tolls would translate into more prepaid tolls. Perhaps a recipient of this really didn't have much money, and really benefitted from that prepaid toll. At the same time, that person was adept at and passionate about baking apple pies. Energized by the good deed done to her, she decided to bake an apple pie for a teenaged neighbor who was overwhelmed by his final exams. That teenager so much appreciated the apple pie, that when seeing another neighbor struggling with moving a piece of furniture into the house, he rushes to his aid.
In these instances, people were poor in some aspects, whether it be money or happiness, or physical capability, and wealthy in others. In a pay it forward economy, acts do not have to be difficult or costly, but can at the same time be incredibly significant.
Especially since the acts are not given back to the original person (as would be the case in a transactional economy). This insures the element of the unexpected, the lifeblood of the entire concept. In transactions, even in mindful barters, one person feels obligated to the other, even if in their own mind, to return services with something of equal or greater value. The stress of the obligation dismisses any goodwill that would have otherwise been engendered, and can sometimes lead to spite, especially if there is a wealth differential between the two.
Just imagine the result of any good deed done being followed by first, a refusal of anything in return, and second, if the person wants to give something back, a charge to pay it forward. I think that even if awkward at first, people would readily embrace it. It is hard to forget the ecstasy a thoughtful, unexpected act of kindness or goodwill creates. I think this would stimulate a service oriented economy, which would lead to less hatred and prejudice of those whose issues are not ours. Many of the bickerings and maldeeds would disappear, since they would be considered taboo. Diverse groups of people would gain a greater understanding of each other, thus advancing the wealth of knowledge concerning human nature across our neighborhoods, cities, and globe.
The beauty is that if not revolutionary on a societal level, it will always make a difference on the individual level. So the next time you see someone struggling, do something nice for them that will provide some sort of relief. If they thank you, explain that you are just paying forward the good deeds done to yourself, and encourage them to do the same. You may not see the result of the chain reaction you might create, but the result within yourself will be fantastic
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
The first 48 hours
I took my two year old son to the zoo the other day and I read an interesting caption in front of the giraffe habitat. Apparently, in only a matter of hours, the baby giraffes are able to walk on their own. I suppose, somewhere in the evolutionary history, too many baby giraffes were getting left behind. Either that or they were slowing down the parents a little too much.
This is not the case with humans. It's been a little over 48 hours since our second son was born, and I think he's still several months away from walking. Right now he's laying on my chest squeaking in an extremely cute fashion. Other than that, his skills range from suckling something fierce to sleeping in broad daylight.
That's not to say I don't have the most profound respect for this little guy. He's quite the trooper, as all babies are. Imagine it this way, you just spent nine months in a climate controlled, gravity free environment, with food literally handed to you through a tube. All of a sudden, you find yourself being squeezed like a container of toothpaste, head first, down a canal that requires your skull to malform. It's got to be, by far, the worst headache ever. Your eyes, which have never experienced anything beyond almost total darkness, meet two glaring lights in the birthing room. Your lungs go from breathing water to breathing air in an instant and your nutrition is literally cut off from you. Bloody, cold and crying, you are poked with a needle and get cream rubbed in your still adjusting eyes. It's supposed to prevent blindness, the first of all great ironies. The one advantage is that you can move around a bit more.
Things get a little bit more familiar as you are placed next to the familiar heartbeat of your mother and given the opportunity to suck for your food. A new concept but something you've at least practiced. She is warm and you soon fall back asleep.
Except in the next several hours, you keep getting pulled away from her, and you keep getting poked. The worst comes a day afterwards, when they make the place where you pee hurt real bad.
Close to two days after you make this weird passage through the rabbit hole (no offense intended ladies, just a literary reference), you are strapped tight in a weird contraption and whisked off.
After so much pain and stress, it's no wonder we are programmed to not remember anything.
This is not the case with humans. It's been a little over 48 hours since our second son was born, and I think he's still several months away from walking. Right now he's laying on my chest squeaking in an extremely cute fashion. Other than that, his skills range from suckling something fierce to sleeping in broad daylight.
That's not to say I don't have the most profound respect for this little guy. He's quite the trooper, as all babies are. Imagine it this way, you just spent nine months in a climate controlled, gravity free environment, with food literally handed to you through a tube. All of a sudden, you find yourself being squeezed like a container of toothpaste, head first, down a canal that requires your skull to malform. It's got to be, by far, the worst headache ever. Your eyes, which have never experienced anything beyond almost total darkness, meet two glaring lights in the birthing room. Your lungs go from breathing water to breathing air in an instant and your nutrition is literally cut off from you. Bloody, cold and crying, you are poked with a needle and get cream rubbed in your still adjusting eyes. It's supposed to prevent blindness, the first of all great ironies. The one advantage is that you can move around a bit more.
Things get a little bit more familiar as you are placed next to the familiar heartbeat of your mother and given the opportunity to suck for your food. A new concept but something you've at least practiced. She is warm and you soon fall back asleep.
Except in the next several hours, you keep getting pulled away from her, and you keep getting poked. The worst comes a day afterwards, when they make the place where you pee hurt real bad.
Close to two days after you make this weird passage through the rabbit hole (no offense intended ladies, just a literary reference), you are strapped tight in a weird contraption and whisked off.
After so much pain and stress, it's no wonder we are programmed to not remember anything.
Friday, March 25, 2016
Waiting
"I think Sunday is my least favorite day," my wife told me the other day, when we were out for a walk.
It happened to be a Sunday, and I thought back on our usual afternoon church meeting - a near futile attempt of keeping our two year old son occupied for an hour and ten minutes with snacks and toys and laps around the hallways. I think the meeting went a little long - heaven forbid - and he knew it. The kid had flexed his core muscles to their max to express his disdain for sitting still any longer, and it was most likely one of the typical - stumbling across the finish line - moments when, as soon as the closing prayer ended, we just let him go free.
Fearing for a second that this typical experience had finally done her in on the "day of rest" I asked her for more details.
"I think it has to do with that, but also that I just have a long week ahead of me that I'm not exactly looking forward to."
It made sense. We are super close to our second son's due date, and apparently being nine months pregnant is not allowing her an easing up of work.
"I suppose that's why they say Friday is the typical favorite day," she continued.
I thought about the idea for myself. "I'd have to go Saturday for me."
For some reason, I have become immune to the phenomenon of anticipation when it comes to days of the week. Friday is great, don't get me wrong, but it is great especially after 5:00 pm.
I have found, however, that waiting has much more of an impact in other aspects of my life. Take our pending kid. Jack was twelve days early, and we are currently well beyond that with this one. For the past three weeks (we thought the doctor was too late on her due date estimate, apparently we were wrong) we have waited for that moment when the water breaks, or when the real contractions start. It is like a ticking time bomb with no timer on it. I have lost sleep due to the anticipation. I have long since checked out of work, and my productivity has plummeted. It probably doesn't help that I am having to put several projects on hold.
It's moments like these where I feel I can really expand my ability to live for the moment, to enjoy the fact that we are still getting full nights of sleep, where we don't have to clean up all the spit up. Where we don't have to juggle two kids.
That time will come, and it will be wonderful. In the mean time, life is also wonderful now.
It happened to be a Sunday, and I thought back on our usual afternoon church meeting - a near futile attempt of keeping our two year old son occupied for an hour and ten minutes with snacks and toys and laps around the hallways. I think the meeting went a little long - heaven forbid - and he knew it. The kid had flexed his core muscles to their max to express his disdain for sitting still any longer, and it was most likely one of the typical - stumbling across the finish line - moments when, as soon as the closing prayer ended, we just let him go free.
Fearing for a second that this typical experience had finally done her in on the "day of rest" I asked her for more details.
"I think it has to do with that, but also that I just have a long week ahead of me that I'm not exactly looking forward to."
It made sense. We are super close to our second son's due date, and apparently being nine months pregnant is not allowing her an easing up of work.
"I suppose that's why they say Friday is the typical favorite day," she continued.
I thought about the idea for myself. "I'd have to go Saturday for me."
For some reason, I have become immune to the phenomenon of anticipation when it comes to days of the week. Friday is great, don't get me wrong, but it is great especially after 5:00 pm.
I have found, however, that waiting has much more of an impact in other aspects of my life. Take our pending kid. Jack was twelve days early, and we are currently well beyond that with this one. For the past three weeks (we thought the doctor was too late on her due date estimate, apparently we were wrong) we have waited for that moment when the water breaks, or when the real contractions start. It is like a ticking time bomb with no timer on it. I have lost sleep due to the anticipation. I have long since checked out of work, and my productivity has plummeted. It probably doesn't help that I am having to put several projects on hold.
It's moments like these where I feel I can really expand my ability to live for the moment, to enjoy the fact that we are still getting full nights of sleep, where we don't have to clean up all the spit up. Where we don't have to juggle two kids.
That time will come, and it will be wonderful. In the mean time, life is also wonderful now.
Monday, March 14, 2016
Preview for Upcoming Book: GATHER THE STONES
The star studded life of the mayor’s teenage son is thrown into mayhem when he saves a suspected child molester from drowning.
There is no reason why the path of Jack Turner, quarterback of the football team and son of the mayor, should ever cross the path of Chuck Fredrickson, the old vagrant who forages the parks for wild asparagus and is suspected of multiple child molestations. Yet when he saves Chuck from drowning in a flash flood, they form an unlikely friendship. As Jack’s worldview on what it means to be truly human changes, he finds that stepping away from the world in which he once lived is not only difficult, but one that will almost definitely lead to his social execution.
The shadow of social media’s blame and shame culture looms over this Midwestern coming of age drama, where everyone finds him or herself on both sides of the social daggers. A mayor who seeks re-election, a son who tries to balance parental expectations with his own desires, a pastor’s daughter whose scandals hide beneath her curtain of piety, a social outcast who lives free from normal expectations, a suspected criminal who had woken up one day to find the world had left him behind - all spiral together in a whirlwind of discord that bring the once civil town to its own reckoning.
Some readers have compared it to a modern, inverted version of the Scarlet Letter.
Coming Fall 2016
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