Archive for May, 2010

A Memorial Day post

Today is Memorial Day.  Most people know it as the beginning of summer.  The day that marks the end of semester seasons and the beginning of  trips, vacations, heat, humidity, and summer storms.  It is Rolling Thunder, it is Joe and Kathy’s clambake, it is an extra day to get caught up on laundry and cleaning the yard.

Of course it is supposed to be about remembering those who died on the battlefield.  People who died in military service.  People who risked and gave their life for something more than the ordinary, mundane, and simple things of life that most of us — including me! — spend our time obsessing with every day.

It is supposed to be a day to remember that there were people in our history — people in our lives — that gave up everything to protect a friend, fight someone’s battle, defend an idea.  We need to remember those people.  Not just because they deserve it.  But because we can learn from them.

This Memorial Day I think of my father.  He didn’t die on the battlefield.  If he had I wouldn’t be alive to write this.  But he gave up a lot for me, my family, and the county he loved.  He survived Pearl Harbor.  He survived Midway.  He made it through the battle of the Philippines.   And after WWII,  he made it through the Korean War.  He didn’t die in combat although he easily could have.  He was just lucky.

Today we should think about those whose luck ran out; whose children we never born; whose life and legacies ended in service to their country.

I took a moment this morning to read the post I submitted about my father in the Pearl Harbor Survivors Project.  I looked at an 18-year-old who quit high school to enlist as a soldier.  I read (again) the simple, small card that was the only thing he could send his mom after surviving the attack on December 7th.  And I reread the letter he wrote five days later.   “They started this war and we’re going to finish it!”  That was Dad, pure and simple.  Well, we did.  Dad survived.  But a half million of his fellow military service members did not.

So spend a few minutes today to remember all those who decided to serve a greater cause to defend — as best they could — their country.  And especially those who forfeited their life in service to us all.

Say thank you.  And hope that we can develop the same spirit within us to pass down to the next generation.

Lazy Daze

I was talking to my brother the other day.  He had been talking my other brother.  Both great guys.  Brothers that people would die for.  Kind, smart, funny, good husbands, wonderful sons.  The whole package.

One of them — I won’t say who — had a great personal observation.

In a discussion about life and this tricky thing called ambition he jokingly said, “You know … my greed is only exceeded by my laziness.”

This is one of the great insights into the human condition.  He could have been talking about me.  He could have been talking about you.  He could have been talking about ninety percent of humanity.  We all want stuff.  We all want nice things.  We want good relationships.  We want.  We want.  We want.

But most of us are willing to work for what we want.  We just want.

This greed vs. laziness paradigm could just as easily be framed as a”[insert anything] vs. laziness” paradigm.

Why do I think so?

Because I read David Shenk’s book “The Genius in All of Us.”  (Actually, I’ve not read it … I just read the reviews)  According to the book EVERYONE can be a genius.  That’s right.  You, my friend, could be the next Einstein.  It is not genetic or nature.  What prevents us from being a genius is … you guessed it … laziness!  Here’s an excerpt of the review on Amazon.com

Shenk argues that the idea we are either born with genius or talent, or we aren’t, is simply untrue. The notion that relentless, deliberate practice changes the brain and thus our abilities has been undervalued over the past 30 years in favor of the concept of “innate giftedness.” Practice, practice, practice (some say 10,000 hours or more) is what it takes.

I am both excited and depressed.

I can be a genius.  Only one thing.  I’ve got to work for it.  10,000 hours of work.  That is 250 weeks of a 40 hour work week.  Five years of a full time job.

That is our problem folks.  Not much is outside of our grasp — not money nor knowledge.

It is just that we have to work for it.

Think I’ll take a nap.

It isn’t the ‘what’ it is the ‘who’

I’ve been spending a lot of time recently thinking about family, work, career, accomplishments, goals … heady stuff like that.  It has translated into several drives into the office in silence … no music, no radio … and many evenings on the back porch staring out over the greenway that separates our small cluster from the houses on the next block over.

Most of this reflection has, I think, been productive.  But some has bordered on the thumb-sucking, navel gazing and Hamletesque type angst that most humans are prone to.

I got some unexpected help and insight from a very dear friend who now is a big muckety-muck at one of the nation’s leading career services firm.  She mentioned a conversation with another important muckety-muck … a person from Harvard … who said that most people get it all wrong.  They frame the entire career thing the wrong way.  What she said I’ll remember for a long, long time.

“The critical question is not ‘what‘ you want to be … it is ‘who‘ you want to be.”

That says so much in just fifteen words.  It is more the motivation than the act.  It is more the idea than the product.  It is more the character than the career.  It is more the identity than the label.

I thought about my clients.  And I realized that their challenge was eerily the same.  Many were all bollixed up trying to figure out the “what” … when their real problem was the “who.”  It wasn’t the product set, the service package, the channel strategy that was their real problem.  Their real problem was that they didn’t have a clear sense of who they were and what they stood for.

These fifteen words haven’t solved my personal life’s riddle.  But they’ve allowed me to see things much more clearly.

So I ask you …

Not what do you do … but …

Who are you?