Save Money. Live Better. Dine in Aisle 12

Yesterday I stopped in to Walmart to pick up a couple of things for the week. On the way to check out, the missus noticed the flu shot table was available so she stopped off to get immunized while I checked out.

It was my lucky day as Aisle 2 (Speedy Checkout) was open. As I was pushing the cart in to unloading position, a young lady appeared from nowhere and jumped ahead of me. Granted she only had 3 things, but the point is that had I not noticed her out of the corner of my eye and stopped,  I would have run the cart right up her heels. After she left, I asked the clerk if she worked there. The clerk rolled her eyes and offered an apologetic yes. After paying I headed back to check on the injection process.

Lo and behold but should I see my acquaintance (and Walmart's finest) pulling an empty chair from the flu shot table, plop it into the middle of the aisle, and start munching on her pizza, Snickers bar, and Diet Coke. This was a strategic location as it allowed her to distract the other lady who was removing items from the shelf and then putting them back. Between bites she would look at me with a disapproving glare. I guess she was telling me to mind my own business. So I took a picture.

So while three people waited for their flu shots, they were treated to this exemplary employee telling the story of her trashy cousin's sex life to an overproductive co-worker. And to think I would have missed this if Walmart provided break rooms for their employees!

Reflections of a Father

On a Father's Day, my thoughts drift between my dad, and being a dad. I want to write about my Dad. But it would take me all day to think of the things I want to say. In a recent Facebook status, I wrote "Contemplating Father's Day, and convinced that, at my best, I couldn't carry my Dad's suitcase. But I am ok with that." I wasn't fishing for compliments (but I really appreciate the kind words), but rather stating that I don't think I could ever be the man that my Dad was. I know he had his failings, but I sure didn't see that many or very often. I miss him. A lot.

So bouncing between my father and being a father, I am taking a shortcut and posting things I've already written. The short tribute I wrote for my Dad at his funeral doesn't even come close to saying all that could be said, but I knew that I would have a hard time making it through even a few paragraphs.

Then there are a couple of letters that I recently wrote for Abbey and Rachel. Rachel's note was for her to read at her Confirmation retreat. Abbey's letter was supposed to be read on the bus from the graduation ceremony to the after grad party. I think she eventually read it, but it wasn't on the bus. She was afraid I'd make her cry. While none of these are long in content, they are true to my heart.

I'm a lucky guy. Great parents. Great wife. Great kids. Not bragging. Just appreciating.

Happy Father's Day

For my little girl...

Chelly,

Wow! Hard to believe that my little girl is growing up. You will always be my little girl, but you know that. As I celebrate this weekend, and what it means both in your spiritual and personal growth, I start to reflect on many things. So many things come to mind when I think of my little Chelly:

©      Monkey-chunk

©      Chicka Chicka Boom Boom – “Again!”

©      Doing the conga line dance through the narthex of the old church.

©      I have a sammich and I’m gonna eat it.

©      Squirt

©      The ability to fall asleep at wedding reception while the music blasts away

©      The Lobster Dance

But more than importantly, I think of:

©      Love

©      Kindness

©      Consideration

©      Caring

©      Gentleness

©      Smart

©      Funny

You are all these things and so much more. You are my most precious child, on loan from God. You are God’s child first, mine second. He loves you more than I can ever possibly begin to love you, and that is more than a kabillion chocolate chip cookies. You are sweet young woman. I am very proud of you, today and every day.

I love you!

Daddy

Not the end, but the beginning.

Abbey,

I remember the day that you were born like it was yesterday. Moving down the hall to tell your grandparents the good news, I don’t think my feet hit the floor. That day I thought that I invented fatherhood. My precious little girl, perfect in every way, was a true gift from God.

I remember taking you to day care, and you didn’t want me to leave. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to keep you with me all day. But you went along the way, and when things weren’t to your liking, you made sure they knew it. You had no problem telling Rosemary that it was time to move up.

I remember taking you to your first day of kindergarten. You were ready for school – a bright, inquisitive little girl that loved wolves and action heroes, and the occasional Barbie doll. You moved through grade school never holding back, in learning or saying what’s on your mind.

I remember when you started middle school. I was not ready for that. My baby was growing up. You were no longer interested in super heroes and rough housing with Dad. You had new interests, and boys were starting to take my place in your life. Your desire to learn never waned, and teachers were always quick to point out your gift for learning and for writing. You were well on your way to defining who you would become.

I remember when you started high school. I remember thinking that the day you would graduate is not far off.  How can that be? Can I stop it from happening? Can I keep you with me all of the days? I cannot, and I should not. You have so much more to accomplish. You have worked so hard, and on the day you walk across the stage, with all of the bling draped around your neck, you can be proud that your achievements were never given to you. You have earned them. But also remember that this is not the end, this is the beginning. Your best days will not be left in the halls of Blue Valley North High School. They are yet to be defined.

You are, Abbey, still my precious, perfect little girl. You are still the one to let others know who you are, and what you will accomplish. You are still the one who will never hold back. You are the still the one that, even after college, will always continue to learn. You have so much to give, and so much to receive in return.

I am so proud of you. You have never failed me, never disappointed me, and always make me smile. You will always be my little girl who loved super heroes, wolves, and the crocodile hunter. You will always be my little Boo.

I Love You,

Dad

"There are two lasting bequests we can give our children.  One is roots.  The other is wings."
 ~Hodding Carter, Jr.

A Father's Legacy

The following was my tribute to my father at his funeral in June 2007:

As I consider my own mortality, I ask myself, “What will be my legacy?” What will people think of when they think of me? That is important to me, as I think it is for most people. In light of losing the most important man in my life, I am proud of the legacy he leaves behind.

I often hear that my dad was proud of his three boys. He saw us as successful. We are a vice-president of a leading sports architecture firm, a vice-president of a leading car rental agency, and a director of global sales for the number 6 company on the Fortune 500 list. But my dad never defined success by a title, or by wealth, or by social status and prominence. His idea of success was defined by character, by family, and by faith. You have heard that my dad was a man of character and of strong work ethic. He embodied the definition of these words and concepts. His words and actions were defined by what is morally right. Anything less than this by the three of us was unacceptable. Although he did not write the golden rule, he definitely lived it. This is his legacy to us, as was his expectation that we will pass this on to the next generation, his grandchildren.

Another important part of his legacy is financial security. He lived his entire life not for the present, but for the future. He knew the importance of fiscal responsibility and for having a secure future. He taught this to me in many ways, including, in the early years of my youth, K-Mart tennis shoes and Sear’s Toughskin jeans instead of Nike’s and Levi’s. For years I have joked about this, and probably always will. But I now know that my mother will live the rest of her life without having to worry about money. She can live comfortably, and enjoy an extravagance or two, and know she is taken care of. I know that is something that the three of us are extremely grateful for.

A man can be defined by his legacy. My father is defined by character, by integrity, by a strong work ethic, by the importance of family, and by faith.

As I mentioned earlier, I have heard it said many times that our father is proud of his boys. Well Dad, your boys are proud of you as well.

Bye Bye Delta. It’s been fun.

Dear Delta,

Do you remember when I would book an economy ticket, and sit in first class? And when I would book an exit aisle seat (seat 26C on the MD88), and no matter how many times you would change that flight or equipment I would still have an exit aisle seat? And when I would call you, I would get to speak to a live person in less than 3 minutes? I liked that time.

I know that we don’t see each other as much as we used to. I changed jobs last year. Part of it was economy related; part of it was normal reorganization. Most of the travel I make today is by car. But when I do fly, I am loyal to you. I am fairly certain that sometime soon I’ll be back to flying like I used to – about 80 to 90 thousand miles a year.

But, my dear Delta, when that day comes, I think I may have to find a new partner. Things just aren’t like they used to be. I thought that my 3+ years as a medallion (2+ as Platinum) would still matter to you. Sure, you still have some awesome gate agents and flight attendants, but things have definitely changed. And I can clearly see that you just don’t love me like you used to. I understand that I’m just not there for you like I used to be, but I guess I really didn’t expect this kind of response:

·         You changed my itinerary on the same trip. TWICE! And both times you move me from an exit aisle seat to a middle seat. That’s three times in the last year that you did me like this. I swear that I told you numerous times in the past that my anxiety/claustrophobia will just not let me sit there.  Because of that, I pick my flight times based on aisle availability. You must have forgotten that.

·         When my Worldmate app (your in-house notification system must have lost my phone number/email address) told me my itinerary had changed (equipment, I guess) and I was moved from my exit aisle seat of 25C to a crappy middle seat of 15B, I called your SkyMiles “priority line.” After about 15 minutes on hold I spoke with Kay, who I really thought was my new best friend. She put me back in an exit aisle seat (26C). Maybe you do still love me!

·         Four hours later I went to check in online and found I was still in that crappy seat of 15B. What happened? Kay just told me that I was put back in a seat I reserved when I bought my ticket. No doubt that you don’t love me anymore.

I tried calling you, but I guess you were too busy to talk to me. While I was on hold, I went to your web site and opened a chat session with Glen. Man, was he really helpful. He told me he was sorry for the inconvenience, he was sorry for my disappointment, and that I should call Delta Customer Service. That chat feature sure is helpful!

Fortunately, I was still waiting to speak with you via your SkyMiles Priority Line. About 100 minutes in to the call, I fell asleep waiting to speak with you. When I woke up the next morning, I checked my phone log. The total call duration was 4 hours, 29 minutes. TWO HUNDRED SIXTY-NINE MINUTES I waited to talk to you. All I can say is WOW! I can sure  see how important my call is to you.

So Delta, I get the message. It’s time to see other people. So while I wait for my next job/responsibilities change and I start traveling my previous 80,000 miles per year, I will see if Continental, United, and US Air improved since I last traveled and swore I’d never sit in their seats again. Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love and the long-lasting relationship that I thought you and I had. Worse case, I’ll get the same service I had with you. But at that, I really haven’t lost anything have I?

Good luck Delta, and I hope we can still be friends.

Sincerely,

Your Previously Loyal Customer

A Toast to Bill and Amy

As many of you know, I am the youngest of three brothers. There is Tom, the wise grayish-haired elder. (At least he has hair.) Then there is Bill, who is 50% Rock Star, 50% comedian, and always entertaining. Both are 100% successful. I am blessed with two amazing brothers. As I contemplate the concept of brothers, I was trying think of a modern analogy that everyone could relate to. I struggled to find something recent. I know Nick and Jordan will understand “Step Brothers” but I don’t think that fits with anything I am trying to say.

For those of us older than 40, it might be Wally and Beaver Cleaver. Wally and Beaver always seemed to be pretty close. They hung out and had fun on a fairly regular basis. I always wondered what happened to that relationship when Wally started chasing the girls. That would leave Beaver to hang out with Larry Mondello. Larry may have been a nice enough guy, but he never struck me as a guy that could replace Wally as a friend. I guess that how it is with brothers.

I don’t think I could say that Bill and I had a Wally and Beaver relationship. We had the 45^th Street Good guys, but soon girls and music consumed Bill’s life, and so I hung out with Larry Mondello, who in my case was Mark Blair. But I never stopped looking up to my brothers, whether it was hitting home runs out of Hodge Park or jamming on stage with Trail Time. I was always very proud to be Bill Tingle’s little brother. In fact, it led to my first entrepreneurial experience as I learned that I could sell his senior picture to the girls of my freshman and sophomore classmates for a buck a piece. I thank God we didn’t have Facebook back then or I would have been broke.

As we got older we did what most brothers do, we started living our lives in separate cities. Sure we kept in touch with the occasional phone and email, and we would bring the families together at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but we were never close like when were kids sitting in the picnic table/dugout in the backyard/home field on 45^th Street.

That all changed almost 2 years ago. The distance from St Louis to Kansas City shrank quite a bit, and I found a new best friend (well second best friend. I married my best, best friend). In a very short period of time Bill and I reconnected like only brothers can. I remember as a kid, laying on the bunk beds, having great conversations before we dozed off – some were serious, others were laugh out loud hysterical. Today we have similar conversations; many times they are serious deep. Other times they are crazy funny. Always they are memorable. In the course of the last two years, I have learned a great deal about my brother, the adult. He is a man of tremendous kindness and generosity. He is a man of great faith. He is a man with unconditional love for his boys. He is man of integrity. Most importantly, he is man I am proud to call my brother and my friend.

And then one year ago, I believe that it was exactly one year ago this weekend, we first met the woman that he described to me as someone special. I soon found out how special she is. She quickly figured out that to make in this family, you have to be able to dish it out. Amy can take care of that like no one’s business.  Since then I have found that, each time we get together, I see why exactly why Bill fell in love with her. She is, indeed, a very special lady.

And so today I am honored, I am privileged, and I am truly touched to raise my glass in honor of two very special people. The brother who for the last year has told me about this amazing woman he has come to know and love, and to that woman, who has chosen him to share a wonderful life. Bill and Amy, I wish that every day be filled with years of happiness. I hope that every moment is full of a lifetime of blessings. May this be the first chapter in a wonderful romantic story (not the drippy, sappy Harlequin romance novel with Fabio on the cover, but maybe more like the Princess Bride with action, adventure, and of course, true love).  To Bill and Amy, may God forever bless your love, your lives, and your marriage. Cheers!

Media Saturation and a History of False Alarms

May 25^th, 2011 (10:57 AM) – The tornado sirens just started going off. Almost simultaneously I saw The Weather Channel  app on my iPad pop up an alert announcing a tornado warning for my area. I ended the call I was on. I called Abbey down to the basement, and flipped on the local news.

I should state that Abbey is not real fond of severe weather, and I would not be exaggerating to say that tornado warnings really freak her out. At one point she asked, “Is it this bad every year?” Perhaps it is her approaching freedom of the parental control (and advice and comfort) that arrives with her departure for college that has increased her awareness of this potential danger. But that statement got me thinking, how bad was it when I was a kid?

 I remember numerous times as a kid growing up in Rock Island, IL where we retreated to the basement to seek cover. It was not often, but it happened enough that I can remember it. At least once a year, or so it seems.  We’d huddle in the basement with the radio trying to get some news. News was hard to come by from an AM radio in the late 60’s and early 70’s in Rock Island, IL.

Today we are overloaded with news. As I am watching Johnny Rowlands pilot NewsChopper 9 HD around some ominous clouds while transmitting the images to the HD TV in my basement office, I get a call from my mother in Rock Island, IL who is watching coverage of our severe weather on The Weather Channel. The Weather Channel scooped Johnny and Joel Nichols by reporting a tornado on the ground near 135^th and Metcalf. My mom, of course, is freaking out at this news as Rachel’s school is 5 blocks from that intersection. Shortly after that KMBC’s First Alert Doppler Radar HD showed the rotation near 135^th and Mission Road, and NewsChopper 9 captures several funnel clouds momentarily reaching the ground.

As I write this, I think how fortunate we are to have this much information available. I am 100% certain that this saves lives. Even a few seconds of a warning can mean the difference between life, injury, or death. But it also can be frightening. I think Abbey is fairly justified to be freaked out.  I sort of wonder how I would react if I were young. I think maybe my age plays against me. All those years of false alarms and uneventful trips to the basement may have given me a sense of apathy and indifference. I think this apathy is worse than growing up in the 70’s with limited information from an AM radio. At least then I was safely huddled in the basement.

Thoughts on a girl that makes her dad proud – EVERY DAY!

Last night Abbey graduated from Blue Valley North High School. This is arguably the best high school in the state of Kansas. Is that at all like being the best ski resort in Jamaica? No. It really is a great school. Abbey was recognized as one of the Top 10 Students (based on GPA) in her class. She is not a National Merit Scholar. She did not have a 36 on the ACT. If she had not been screwed by her freshman AP Chemistry teacher, she could have had a chance at #1 in her class. The point? She is an amazing student that worked very hard for this accomplishment. Is this boasting? I don’t care. She is an amazing young lady. She  makes me proud – EVERY DAY!

Abbey’s best friend also graduated from BVN. I really like Steph. She’s smart. She’s a talented soccer player. She sings with Abbey in Chambers.  If you know her parents it’s not too hard to figure out why she is a fine young lady. Abbey and Steph became good friends in middle school. What I really like and respect about Steph is that she accepted Abbey as a friend unconditionally. This is hard enough to find at any point in our lives, not to mention middle school. Abbey’s closest friends up to then were not what I would call good friends. “J” would be a friend when it was convenient, and would not hesitate to torment others to make herself feel better. Her other "close" friend knew this, and often played in to it. If only this immaturity was limited to middle school. But Steph accepted Abbey for everything she is (and isn’t). We all should have a friend like Steph.

Fortunately, Abbey has cultivated other friends with similar qualities. I am quite certain that the character of a young adult can be equal parts who their friends and who their parents are. Abbey has a great group of friends. If I picked them myself, there is no way I could have done as good of a job. I hope she does not follow in her father’s path and lose contact with most of them. Friends like this are hard to come by. Don’t screw it up by leaving them behind.

As I wrap up this up, I realize I can’t forget the most important person in her life – her amazing mom. They have a unique and wonderful relationship. They are close like a mother and daughter should be. The cool thing here is that it happened before the child becomes an adult. Abbey is way more like me than Peggy. But Abbey is way more the amazing young lady because of Peggy rather than me.

I’d love to end this here and celebrate all that Abbey has done. But I know she is not done. And because of that, I’d ask anyone that bothered to read this to stay tuned. The even more amazing thing about all of this? Abbey has a younger sister with all the talents and smarts as her big sis.

I can't help but ask myself - How did I get so lucky to have two daughters that make me proud - EVERY DAY!

The Problem with Celebrating Death

“We have a choice. We can choose the high road, or we can choose the low road. The high road maintains the integrity of life & mourns loss that comes with death. The low road celebrates death & ignores the consequences. I choose the high road. When we choose the high road, we choose the narrow path that leads to eternal life. If we choose the low road we are, fundamentally, no different than those we condemn.“

When I first heard the news that Osama Bin Laden had been killed, I was somewhat surprised that I felt a sense of shock and concern. While I think that this is a setback to the terrorists, it can easily steel their resolve to deliver another major blow to our safety and freedom. I am not the least bit unhappy that the man who committed so many atrocities and evil is gone, but I find it very hard to celebrate this. That may sound strange to some, so I’ll explain.

First, I remember seeing the news clips of some people around the world dancing in the streets after the twin towers came down. I admit I was quite angry that they could celebrate the deaths of thousands of innocent individuals. How could a person of supposed strong faith take joy in death? As I saw so many Americans celebrating the news of OBL’s death, I started to wonder what Muslims around the world must think of this. Are we reinforcing the perception that we are the evil big, bad Americans? I may be wrong, but I feel that this celebratory response to death (albeit not of an innocent individual) makes us no better than those we condemned 10 years ago.

Second, I think of what I would feel if I had to shoot and kill a person in self-defense. If I truly felt my life was in danger and I had no choice but to take a life to preserve mine, how would I respond? I can’t imagine for one second that I would celebrate that act. I might feel relief that I survived, and feel some sense of joy in being alive, but I cannot see myself rejoicing over killing another person, regardless of how evil that person is.

I tend to think that disorganized crime is usually a bigger threat than organized crime. Now that OBL is gone, what happens to Al Qaeda? Do you have radicals around the world trying to take control by creating hysteria through numerous random violent acts? Does AQ split up creating numerous groups that the US Intel organizations now have to track? Does a clear leader immerge, and use OBLs death as a cohesive force to increase support amongst some of the radicals who were drifting away? Too many questions and no clear answers, and thus my concern.

Lastly, the war on terror is not over. Sadly, I don't think it's a war that will ever end. But this is a small victory in an ongoing battle.  It's also a much needed moral boost to some pretty brave men and women who fight the battle every day. I will not take away their right or desire to celebrate this victory in whatever way they see fit. But as I sit here safe, warm, and well-rested in my comfortable home, I see no desire or need to celebrate death when I risk nothing.

I could not be happier that the US troops safely executed their mission without the loss of life. The US Navy Seals did what they had to do in a very difficult situation. I salute their service. They are the best in the world at what they do, and I am glad that they on our team. 

Legislating Common Sense - But not in Kansas

During a brief 3-year stint, I lived in Oklahoma. I jokingly refer to it more as doing time than living. Anyone that has made the drive from Kansas City to Oklahoma City should understand that. Actually I enjoyed the time I spent in Norman. Many fond memories and wonderful people, for sure.

Today I have an even stronger appreciation for the state of Oklahoma. This morning I read where the Governor of Oklahoma has signed a law restricting the protests at funerals. Call it the “Fred Phelps Law.” On the anniversary of the worst domestic terrorist attack in US history, the governor of Oklahoma has done what so many others are afraid to do. This law clearly says that while we respect the right to free speech, we also respect the rights of grieving families to mourn their loss without intimidation and additional pain.

Free speech. Some time ago the US legislative and judicial system decided that there must be restraints to free speech. Ever tried to yell “fire” in a crowded theater where no fire was present? Didn't think so. Why? Common sense says you shouldn't. So why the need to pass a law that you can't? Goes to what I always say, you shouldn't have to legislate common sense and intelligence.

But unfortunately those seem to be two characteristics absent in my friends from Topeka. The Westboro Baptist Church has successfully defended itself to date in its defense of free speech. If I didn't have the love, grace, and forgiveness that only comes from a personal relationship with Christ, I might actually hate these guys for the embarrassment I experience when people laugh at my living in Kansas.

But here is the thing, and what I would love to ask the members of this church. How many good things could be done with the money WBC has spent on protests, and in defense of its actions? How many hungry people could they feed every day? How many Habitat homes could they build? How many people could they prevent from dying from disease, cold, heat, etc. In the popular theme of WWJD, I have to wonder "What Would Jesus Want You To Do?" I have a hard time believing that the money is best spent condemning homosexuality by making the lives of so many people miserable. 

But ultimately I find the events of the April 18th somewhat ironic. Ironic? How so? On the 16th anniversary of the worse domestic terrorist attack, the governor of Oklahoma signs in to law a bill protecting the rights of innocent people from the malicious and unforgiving attack of those who proclaim to follow a Man who's greatest commandments were to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind" and "Love your neighbor as yourself."

Back to Oklahoma. One might ask "Dude, are you trying to say that Fred Phelps is like Tim McVey?" I'd respond not really. McVey didn't use the Bible to intimidate his victims.

Pay Up or Shut Up

Disclaimer: In today's post I mention GE. I also happen to work for GE. The thoughts and opinions here are mine, and I am not speaking on behalf of GE.  I mention GE in context of recent news stories. The basis for this is as a stockholder, and not as an employee.

Today is Tax Day. Well, sort of. Actually Tax Day was extended to Monday, April 18th due to a holiday in DC. But either way I am preparing to make my contribution to the Big Government Operational Fund. I owe more than usual this year. Guess I did not get any of those much discussed tax breaks that the POTUS is looking to eliminate.

Speaking of Tax Breaks, you have probably read that GE will not pay any taxes for 2010. In fact that's not true. GE will pay what many are calling a relatively small amount. I don't know how much it actually is. The thing I find extremely humorous is all of the people that are bashing GE for this. I recently met a woman who, after finding out that I work for GE, said that she will never again buy a product that carries the GE monogram logo.

Here's what I find interesting - she admitted that she itemizes on her federal tax returns. Is it just me, or is this a little bit hypocritical? Why would you boycott a company because they take advantage of the tax laws to minimize their tax liability when you personally do the same thing? Perhaps it's the magnitude of the issue. Perhaps it's because they are a monolithic corporation and you just an average Joe working to pay the bills and put food on the table. Rationalization is a wonderful thing.

So here's the thing - if this really pisses you off then work at changing the laws. But to fault a company that is responsible for returning a profit to the investors (many of whom are working stiffs trying to pay the bills and put food on the table) when you in fact do the same thing is just wrong.

Now the question of the day - Would you be willing to to pay $5,000 to a charity in exchange for not paying $10,000 in taxes? I thought so.

Yes or No – Which one are you?

Not that long ago I worked in a business where we were struggling to make our numbers. This was compounded by the fact that quite frequently we would bring an opportunity to the bid decision point, and we were told “No, because…” The reasons varied and it became quite frustrating. My outlook on life changed the day that we were told we would “No Bid” a certain opportunity. “No bid? Why?” It’s not our standard offering, it will be too expensive, and we can’t deliver in the customer’s requested delivery schedule.  That was the third “No” I heard that week. The other two were because there was too much risk. Of course, we were including contingency cost for the equivalent scenario of a single engine Cessna flying at 60,000 ft. Never mind that it’s impossible, we had to plan and cost for that contingency, just in case.

 At this point I had enough, so I asked “What if the customer was willing to pay us $100 million and they could wait 2 years to take delivery, would we do it then?” Of course we would, but does the customer have $100M and 2 years? At this point it doesn’t matter. We found a condition on which we would bid it, and the “standard offering” thing was just an excuse. We bid the job on the conditions that we could deliver under, and we got the order.

So why did this change my life? Because I moved from being a “No, because…” person to a “Yes, if …” person. In fact, this has become my mantra at work. I took it to my new job, and I think people may be tired of hearing me say it. But I find that in the 18 months of my asking for a “Yes, if…” scenario, the work environment has improved. If I find someone that takes this attitude without my prompting, I’ll make sure to send them an email thanking for their support, and their desire to find a way to get business. I’ll probably even copy their manager.

I’m trying to bring this to personal life as well. That’s a bit harder, but I think it’s worth the effort. So now I ask you, which person are you? Are you “No, because…” or “Yes, if…”?

Thoughts On Getting OIder

To quote my very cool mother-in-law, I don’t so much mind getting older. It beats the alternative. She was a very special woman, who passed much too soon. She knew how to appreciate life. I am glad that I was able learn that from her. I am even more glad that my wife is so much like her mother in that respect.

This morning I am not so glad that I scheduled a 7:30 AM conference call. Understand that I have conference calls this early, or earlier, on a regular basis. What is unusual about today is that I did something last night that I fortunately do NOT do on a regular basis. But oh man, did I have a good time.

I’ll start by saying that today I celebrate a birthday. I am 46 years young. And I feel every bit of it. Last night my brother Bill took me (and my good friends Nick and Dub) to see Joe Bonamassa perform at the Midland Theater. For those of you that don’t know, Bonamassa is a blues guitarist extraordinaire. Bill picked up some front row tix for the event. Peggy chartered a limo. The concert was fantastic. Afterwards I introduced the group to the Power and Light District. It was night not soon forgotten.

I am especially thankful for Bill. He’s always been a great brother, but in the last two years we have become very close. Like two brothers should be. I am blessed in so many ways, and my brothers are one (make that two) of the ways.

I’m also thankful for the blessing of so many friends. Waking up this morning, I was greeted with birthday wishes from over 50 Facebook friends. And this before 8 AM. I am truly touched.

As I contemplate getting older, I’m appreciative of so many things. I have the best wife in the world. I am blessed with two fantastic, loving and talented daughters. I still have my mom around, and despite living 6 hours away, she is very much a part of our lives. I am blessed with family (immediate, in-laws, and out-laws) that make me feel loved and respected. I don’t think that I could ask for better life. Life is good.

The Simplest Joy of Parenting

I can clearly recall, many years ago, my mother telling me that a parent really only remembers the good times of raising kids. Sure, there are some tough times, but those reside in the RAM and not on the HDD. I appreciate that she told me that. To tell you why would be to paint a rather unflattering self-portrait. So, let’s just leave it at that.

Today I look at my nieces, Wendy and Suzanne. They are on the front side of the parenting curve. I think of all that lies ahead of them with a little bit of envy. They come from good stock – quite possibly the best outside my own parents. So I am confident that there are many good memories ahead of them, and hope that they have a high-capacity hard disk drive. I say that because, nearly 18 years after I earned the title of father, I realize that the good times are in the small things just as much as they are in the big events.

Maybe I’m getting a little sentimental because my baby will heading off to college in 8 months. Hard to believe. But regardless of why, I’m really enjoying every minute I can spend with them one on one. Take last night, for example.

I need to preface this by saying that I am the only one in the house that eats seafood. When I travel, I try to eat seafood whenever possible. If it’s sushi, all the better. I’ve tried to get my girls to like it, but have not had much luck. So when the three of them suggested we eat at Ra Sushi in Chicago last week, I thought it was a joke. Not so. We had a great time. 

And then last night it was just Abbey and I for dinner. We went to Sushi House and it was a fantastic evening. The food was great, and Abbey enjoyed it. But more than that it was just spending time with her that was so awesome. We had great conversation, and shared many laughs. We are even having a Facebook Jazz War. I’m kicking her butt, and expect the white flag to come out any minute.

I had a similar experience with Chelly last month when we had breakfast together. I remember pulling in to the garage that morning asking myself why I don’t do that more often? Heck, it doesn’t even have to cost anything. Even just a walk in the park across the street would be great.

So that’s my goal – more personal and meaningful time with the kids. I’ve always hated the phrase “quality time” as I thought the people that used it really didn’t know what it means. I now truly know what it means. It means wishing the time didn’t have to end.

Fat, Dumb, and Happy - Hopefully two out of three ain't bad.

I used to joke that I would die as a fat, bald, four-eyed man with a huge smile on my face. I was so darn happy, why change. But so as long as it doesn’t happen soon, I can scratch one of those off the list. I had Lasik, and love it. And who knows, maybe sometime in the near future, I can scratch one more of the list. But first, more on Lasik.

For years I had people all around me telling me that getting their eyes done was the best thing they have ever done. I can understand that. It would be nice to see the clock in the middle of the night and know how much longer I can sleep before I am rudely awakened by that familiar, annoying buzz.

And swimming! Wouldn’t it be great to see all the shapely things in their bikinis without fumbling for my glasses … (Oops, sorry honey.  I guess that wouldn’t be such a great thing after all, if I had to do it with two black eyes.)

And we are talking about my eyes here. Both of them are being worked on at the same time. What if the machine went all haywire and burned out the retina? True that I wouldn’t need glasses, but not quite what I had in mind. Hasta la vista my vision as well.

But the final straw came when I heard my brother tell me it was the best thing he ever did. Suddenly the reward outweighed the risk, and I decided to go for it. I pre-taxed the cost, and with the excellent eye insurance from work, I only had to pay a mere $2,400 out of pocket. Based on the cost of contacts, that is a whopping 6 year payback period. That would never clear most financial analyst’s approval for corporate capital expenditures. But you know what? It was the best thing I have ever done.

So today I would die a fat, bald man. But that may change. No, I am not getting a wig or a hair transplant. And I am fairly certain I am not a candidate for Rogaine. In fact, I like being bald. So many benefits. I think the logical direction is to address the fat. But I hate the word fat. To borrow a line from my friend Eric Cartman, “I’m not fat, I’m festively plump.”

So in the festive holiday season of New Year’s resolutions I am making a change. It’s not a diet, per se. It’s an alternative lifestyle. Alternative FOOD lifestyle, for you mind in the gutter dwellers. Losing weight is not rocket science. Control the food intake. Exercise away some stress. Lose a few pounds. Not too difficult, right?

Except for those little things, like beer. And wine. And French fries. And chocolate chip cookies. And butter on, well, just about everything thank you very much Ms. Paula Deen.

But that’s the old lifestyle. Out with the old, and in with the new. New attitude. New clothes. New me. Fortunately I have a house full of women joining me in this endeavor. They must really want me to succeed because none of them really need to lose weight. But as they point out, it’s not necessarily about losing weight, it’s about being healthy. So we all joined Loseit.com. It’s free, and I know for several friends, it’s worked. Hope in a few months I can tell you the same.

Wish me luck. And if you want to wish me luck in person, I’ll be at the gym. See you there?

You are hearby and forthwith notified to report...

A 28-year-old streak came to an end today. I received my first notice to report to jury duty.  I always thought I would like to be on a jury. But since everybody I know looks for ways to avoid it, I’m thinking it’s not the interesting experience I always hoped it would be. That’s ok; I’m still looking forward to serving.

Except for one thing – I’m scheduled to be there on a day that I’m also scheduled to travel back from a business trip tied to a college visit for Abbey. It wouldn’t be so bad except last week I bought Abbey’s plane ticket, and last night I cashed in hotel points for the free night. The free night I can probably get back without too much hassle. The airline ticket will cost me an arm and two legs to change.

The information I received with my notice makes no reference to what you should do if you are out of town on the date you are scheduled to serve. So I guess my civic duty is inclusive of any penalties in travel changes. I called the number I found on the web, and surprisingly I got voice mail. Surprisingly because I expected a busy signal or no answer. We’ll see if I get a call back.

Hopefully I can reschedule. And hopefully it will not be for the only other week I am scheduled to be out of town between now and 2065.

--

Remembering Two Men I Respect – MLK and LDE

A man that I greatly respect once wrote “Be careful how high you put me on a pedestal. It’s all that much further to fall.” I’ll always remember the first time I experienced that concept. It was with my grandfather (mom’s side).  I will never forget the day when I saw the warts on the man that I thought was just about perfect. It seems rather fitting that I am thinking about this on the day that honors the memory of another man I greatly respect, the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Lloyd D Edwards was a Baptist Christian that was born and raised in the south.  He grew up in the depression, scratching to make a living. I don’t think he graduated high school. He did hold numerous, perhaps countless jobs. He was a border patrol officer and a policeman among others. But I remember him by what he did best. He was a salesman through and through. At the end of his working career he sold beer trucks. How awesome is that to a young impressionable high school student?

I remember that on one visit to his home in Durant, Oklahoma, he and I spent the day on the road as he was heading to the state prison for a prison ministry visit. He was trying to make a difference in the lives of men that made some bad decisions. As we were pulling out of town he pointed out a spot on the side of the road that was once the location of “the sign.” As he explained it, the sign was meant to keep his town of Durant a safe, God-fearing community free from trouble and no good.

Durant is a small town in Southeastern Oklahoma, just across the Texas border. It’s on Highway 75, which heading south will take you by Lake Texoma on the way to Dallas. Some say the best part of Durant is the new highway that takes you around it. But back in the day it went right through town. As you were driving in to town, you were met with the sign. The sign said, as my grandfather proudly told me that day, “(N word) don’t let the sun set on you in Durant.” Any African-American that ignored this warning was met with another warning that was sure to set a stronger impression.

As I heard my grandfather tell me this, I saw the first and probably only flaw the man had. My grandfather was a racist. This revelation had a huge impact on me. I was devastated. I later asked him how he could have such hatred for another man. His answer was brief – “That’s the way it is.” We never discussed it again.

Looking back his answer kind of makes sense to me. That was the culture he was raised in. He did not know anything else. This once poor, uneducated man that scraped his whole life to become a fairly well off man did not understand how wrong that was. In no way does this make it ok, but I try to understand it this way. He may have started to “get it” in his final years of living in the border town of Yuma, AZ. But despite all of that, all is not lost. His grandson gets it. As do his granddaughters. We have grown enough that we know to judge a man by his heart and not his skin.

I think we owe most of that to the other man I greatly respect. On the day we honor Martin Luther King, I still fondly remember my grandfather as a man I have always loved and respected. To me he is still pretty high on that pedestal. He stands there imperfect. His beliefs served to only steel my beliefs. I love him and I miss him. Because I chose not to share in his belief, I can do that.

Defriended? Unfriended? Any friends left?

So I picked up this blogging thing to bring some clarity to my convoluted mind. It’s helped and I’ve tried to have some fun with it. But having delivered a couple of tirades on a few somewhat controversial topics, the missus thinks I need to dial it back a bit. The missus is ALWAYS right. So as I try to lighten it up, maybe I will even open a window or two, and possibly close a few doors.

I start by saying that I think I am fairly technically savvy, and have come to fully embrace the Facebook experience. I know that that this not for everyone, and not everyone expects the same thing from the Facebook experience. What I find most intriguing about Facebook and social networking in general, is the effect on the human psyche.

Take Friend Requests, for example. Have you ever received a friend request from someone and said, “Who’s that?” So you start poking around their profile, like Sherlock Holmes, looking for clues. It may involve getting out the high school yearbook to see who they “were.” With a little luck you might get to say “Wow, they look really old/fat/bald/gray/(insert physical flaw here)!”  Or you swear that they have either had plastic surgery or are only posting really old photos.

So after uncovering enough evidence, you accept their friend request. Or on the flip side you realize you really didn’t like them 20+ years ago, and you deny their friend request. Or maybe you need to do a little more investigating, and so you send a message to a common friend asking who this person is, how you should know them, and should you accept their request? So for the meantime, you postpone taking any action on the request.

Or maybe you hate to disappoint or hurt anyone (or you really want your friends total really high so you can look/feel popular) and accept every friend request you receive. Did I mention I am intrigued by the inner workings of one’s mind?

But lately I have really been thinking about the other side of the friend request, which is “unfriending” or “defriending.” I recently read an article that discussed which is the right term. The best comment I read was that “unfriending” is removing someone from your friends list. “Defriended” is what can easily happen when they discover your action.

Have you ever unfriended anyone? Do you want to, but have not? November 17^th was declared National Unfriending Day by late night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel, who declared that friendship should be considered sacred. I think I was unfriended a few times that day. What’s funny is that I didn’t feel unfriended. No pain whatsoever. I was not really sure until recently when I realized I had not seen much from some friends, so I went to their profiles to see what’s going on. Yep, I was unfriended.  I decided to start poking around a little more to see what I am missing. Turns out it was more than a couple.

One was a very distant co-worker that I really was not that close with, had little in common with, and as I think about, couldn’t even tell you who originally friended who. No real loss there. Several others, same story.  We’re not friends anymore? Really? Since when? Was it on November 17^th? Before then?  How dare you unfriend me and I don’t even know it!  I’m sure if I really considered them a friend and could remember who sent who the friend the request to begin with that this would be bother me. But, … (hang on, I’m checking) Nope,... Nothing.  Question for the class: Am I alone in that I am surprised that this was not the hurtful, horrible experience I expected?

One was someone I went to grade school with, and was “unfriended”  since I posted my blog on Religion. Just so happens he was one of the three bears. I guess that when I surmised that no one I know actually reads the crap I post, I was wrong. Well, since he was one of the bears I don’t see eye to eye with, and he unfriended my wife despite a relationship via marriage, I can’t say that I’ll worry about that one much longer than, say, last week.

But, and this is where it gets interesting, two others no longer on my friends list are pastors at my church. (I should add that we have more than a couple of pastor at my church, and these two are husband and wife.) But still, that hurts. Did I offend them somehow and not know it?  I typically don’t care too much what others think of me, and it has served me well so far. But unfriended by my pastors?  I’ll assume that they still think I’m top shelf, as far as casual acquaintances go, but have taken to the recently popular trend of social withdrawal.

This trend involves reducing your friends list to limit access to your information, and to make the experience more manageable and enjoyable.  The way I understand it, each time you log on to Facebook, you unfriend five people until your friends list contains only people you really want to stay connected with. Another approach to the same ends is cancelling your account, going “silent and deep” for a few months, and then restarting with a private profile that no one can see. You seek out the people you really want to communicate with, and friend request them. That is, as long as they also have not also gone silent and deep, rendering them unfindable.

So why unfriend anyone at all? I can think of a few reasons why one might start thinking about it:

1.       Constant status updates (once an hour, or more).

2.       Pointless status updates, usually going beyond what they had for lunch.

3.       Constant game updates and notifications.

4.       Status seekers instead of status updaters.

5.       They are family, and I really don’t want my family knowing my social life.

The list could be 5 times that long, but you get the idea. My response would be – isn’t it much easier to block their feeds and notifications than potentially burn a bridge? I mean unless you really want to risk pissing someone off and are 110% certain that there is no chance that could possibly review your job /mortgage/loan application/tax return/(insert critical document requiring approval here), why not just cure the symptom instead of the cause.  In the end it’s a personal decision, and since Facebook is the ultimate personal web experience, I guess that makes sense.

And now the question, what am I missing?

With that question is an invitation to all my Facebook friends:  if I happen to fall into one of the categories on your Reasons to Unfriend List, then unfriend away! Life is too short to surround yourself people that don’t build you up and encourage you to be a better person. If my posts, or this blog, gives you reason to doubt my presence in your personal circle of trust, then I encourage you to vote me off the island. With over 500 friends, I must have pissed one of you off. So feel free to unfriend me and trust that I won’t be offended. No harm, no foul, no problem. No Christmas card or graduation announcement either, but I don’t think that will bother you too much.

Taking the SPEED of out "Speedy"

I love working out of my home office. It offers tremendous freedom; freedom to manage my own schedule and succeed in my job. If I am jammed with work, I can manage my family time and work time, and not have to drive 30 minutes each way to get work done. I can drop in the office any time of day, any day of the week; likewise, if I need to run out for an hour in the middle of the day, it’s really no big deal. At least a couple of days a week, I try to get out of the house, I mean office.

It’s not uncommon for me to run out to pick up a few things we need around the house. Today we needed lunch meat, bread, milk, Q-Tips, and cold tablets. Fortunately, Wal-Mart is just a hop skip and a jump away. Their deli meat is actually pretty good, and their baked bread and rolls are off the charts. Seriously! I am not kidding about this. You really need to try it before you start rolling on the floor laughing like that.

I know this may sound shocking as well, but this Wal-Mart is fairly easy to get in and out of between 11 and noon. So getting up there, picking up the necessities, and checking out is normally 30 minutes tops. Not so much today.

The check-out lines were pretty busy today. Fortunately the #1 express lane, also called “Speedy Checkout – 20 Items or Less,” only had 1 person in front me. Darn the luck. Or not.

The lady had approximately 30 items in her cart, not counting the screaming baby. That’s alright; it’ll still be quicker than the other lines. Or not.

The first 5 minutes went something like this:

1.      Take 1 item out of the cart and put it on the belt.

2.      Argue with person on the phone.

3.      Take 1 item out of the cart and put it on the belt.

4.      Fuss with screaming baby.

5.      Take 1 item out of the cart and put it on the belt.

6.      Laugh at the person on the phone.

7.      Take 1 item out of the cart and put it on the belt.

8.      Pick pacifier off the floor and jam it back in baby’s mouth.

9.      Repeat steps 1 through 8.

Ok, I’ll admit this may not be 100% correct. I should correctly state that the 1 item on the belt at a time includes each egg from the container, and each soda from the package rather than a dozen eggs and a 12-pack as individual items. No exaggeration here. But even with all of that, I see the bottom of the cart eventually coming in to view. And then she digs in her purse, while talking on the phone, and fussing with the still screaming baby.

Out from the bottom of the purse she pulls a dozen clippings from the local grocery ads. You know, the ones that fall out of the paper every Wednesday. Coincidentally, they also fall out of her hands all over the floor. I guess that Wal-Mart honors competitors’ prices. All you need to do is bring in the ad that is valid for that week. The problem here is that she brought in only clippings of the items she is purchasing, not the entire ad. Now the only good thing that happens next is she finally hangs up the phone.

The clerk informed her that the rule book specifically states, in Article XIX, Paragraph 3, Section 21, that the shopper must present the entire competitor ad to be eligible for said price match offer. This is about the point where she whirls in to her Tasmanian Devil impersonation, which I must say is one of the best I have ever seen. She is demanding that a manager come over and tells that to her face, and that she shops here all the time and never had this problem before, and that this clerk must be new and not have a clue how things work.

Fast forward a few minutes to where she tells the clerk to remove the items he’s not going to price match from her cart, and remove them from her bill. Believe it or not, the other check-out lines have gotten longer. Meanwhile, I’m the only fool sticking it out in this line. Well I own this line just much as she does, and I’m not gonna let her get the best of me by making me load all my crap back in the little blue basket and go start over in another line. No way, no how.

So I gut it out the remaining 5 minutes while she juggles the cell phone that rang right after she tore in to the clerk, and tends to the still fussing baby, who is smelling pretty darn ripe right about now. As she pulls her shopping cart away from the checkout, I really wanted to applaud, both her performance and her departure.

Finally I get to checkout! YES! Now, imagine the look on my face when I realize I suffered one of the pitfalls of working from home. I forgot to put my wallet in my pocket prior to leaving for the office that morning. Awwww sssshhhhhhhhhut the fuhhhhhront door!

So in the end all that entertainment didn’t cost me a dime. And I get the pleasure of a return trip to the great performing stage that is Wal-Mart.

The Rejection in Being Accepted

One of the best and worst times in the life of a parent is when you ship the rug rats off to college. I’ll probably have to expand on this at a later date, but today I’m looking for feedback on how to proceed with a situation where I may have reached an impasse.

Abbey is in the final semester of high school and in the midst of the college search process. She is a fantastic writer (she gets it from me) and plans to major in Journalism. She is also considering a minor in either Spanish or Vocal Performance, two more of her gifts. She has applied to Missouri, Loyola-Chicago, and Northwestern. She has been accepted at Mizzou and Loyola, and we expect to hear back from Northwestern later this month.This is the first time we have done this college search thing, and maybe I’m wrong here, but this seems to be an entirely difference experience from I went to college 25 years ago.

Mizzou has been awesome to deal with. It's also the best Journalism school in the country. They invited Abbey to visit the campus to check out the Honors Program, and the admissions representative we are working with allowed us an hour on the phone to answer our questions.

Loyola, on the other hand, must be the Harvard of the Midwest, with people lining up at the boxing ring to duke it out for admission. I should say that as part of her acceptance, Abbey did receive a partial scholarship to ease the pain of a private college. This puts the cost in line with Mizzou. But the thing I’m struggling with is opening up a dialogue with the admissions representative. I know this guy exists, at least in a virtual world. His name and contact information appear on the Admissions Office web page.

In November I sent him an email asking if he could spare some time for a call phone call to answer some of our questions. Four weeks go by and we get no response. Over the Christmas holidays we were a few hours from Chicago, so we did a day trip drive in to the city so I could check out the campus. The admissions office was open, but our representative had the day off. Another admissions representative gave us about 20 minutes to answer some basic questions. He was great, and he said he’d have our representative contact us. A week goes by and I still have no response from this guy. So I call him and get his voicemail. I leave a polite message requesting a call back. That was a week ago.

Abbey would really like to take part in their upcoming Overnight Stay program where she’ll spend the night in a dorm and sit in on a class. Before I spend the money to do this, I’d really like to talk to this guy.

So today I sent the following email:

Hello (name withheld to protect the “innocent”),

Through prior email, campus visit, and phone call I have tried to reach you, but have been unsuccessful to date. I’m starting to take this personally, and I am thinking you just don’t like me. Usually it takes people a full hour of interaction to come to this conclusion. You are sharper than the rest, for sure.

Hopefully you can make this easy for me by falling back to the college days of multiple choice questions. Here it is:

I cannot meet your request for a conversation because:

A.    I am busy considering the pros and cons of the paper vs plastic debate, and do not have time for such nonsense.

B.    This request is out of our scope of supply, and will be subject to a change order in the amount of $112.56.

C.    You have not said the magic word.

D.    All of the above.

If you would please be so kind as to respond with one of the letters above, I can move on to the recovery process of rejection.

I would sincerely appreciate your response by tomorrow as it will help us determine if we should go to the expense of packing up the family truckster for a trip to Chicago on February 13^th.

Woefully yours,

Terrance M Tingle

Now maybe I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer. (Maybe there is no maybe about it.) But I’m beginning to think that I’m not going to hear back from this guy. If that’s true, I’m trying to figure out what my options might be. Do I contact someone higher up the food chain? Do I accept the fact that I’m not going to have the chance to ask my questions? Do I tell Abbey that this guy is communicating to us that Loyola is a “I’m doing you a favor by letting you come here” kind of place, and that’s not a place where we’ll spend our money?

The question -am I missing something? Suggestions are appreciated. So are donations - this college thing is wicked expensive.


Postlogue - I received a call from the admissions rep about 6 hours after I sent the email. He apologized for not reaching me. Turns out he called me back. Or at least he thought he had. He had been dialing the wrong number and leaving a message on someone else's answering maching. Glad I took the humorous and not the hardball approach.

Spacey, Lambert, and does it matter?

Today’s opening clarifications:

1.       I think Kevin Spacey is an amazingly talented actor. His performances in “Glengarry,…” “Usual Suspects” and “American Beauty” were so good that I can forgive him for “Men Who Stare at Goats.”

2.       I do not think that Adam Lambert is all that talented, and I don’t care much for his music. His shrill can drive me up the wall. But that’s just me.

So who cares if Adam Lambert and Kevin Spacey are gay?

Someone recently asked me, “Did you think that Kevin Spacey is gay.” Actually, I haven’t thought it about it - at all. I guess that with the release of his new movie, the question is making headlines. I don’t think Spacey confirmed or denied it. I believe he is being conspicuously quiet about it, which only fuels the rumors.

I remember after he failed to take home the crown of “American Idol” Adam Lambert confirmed the rumors he is gay. It made headlines all over the place. You couldn’t escape the story.

I was not surprised by Lambert’s declaration. I wouldn’t be surprised if Spacey eventually announced the same. What surprises me is that this is news. Would it be news if I announced “I’m bald?” It’s as much of who I am as my heterosexuality, but neither will define me (I hope). I think it’s sad that our media chooses to make this headline news, and that our society chooses to buy it.

But then I am not gay, and I have no idea what it’s like to live the life of a gay man. I suspect it’s difficult. Probably very difficult. I suspect that as more celebrities come out, it slowly becomes less difficult. But that sad part is that I even have to think about it to realize this conclusion.

The question – am I missing something?