The $300 Bed

I began watching the first season of TNT’s series, Men of a Certain Age tonight. The show follows the lives of three men well into their 40’s. The character played by Ray Romano runs a party store and is in the midst of a divorce.

Romano walks around in a daze much of the time. In one scene, he leaves his old home after dropping his son off only to return a few seconds later asking his soon-to-be former spouse a few questions. I could tell it didn’t matter what he asked because he wasn’t listening to her answers.

pexels-photo-419235

Similar to how a song can transport me back in time, the same happened as I watched this scene. As Romano left his former home and walked to his car without an ounce of emotion, I thought to myself, “I know that look because I’ve been there.”

The first nineteen years of my life were spent in a family with four siblings. That was followed by two years attached to another missionary in Germany. And then nearly six years in a marriage that failed before children arrived.

I woke up one morning in a tiny apartment in downtown Seattle and found myself alone. Alone for the first time in my life. I stayed on the couch staring at the ceiling trying to come up with one good reason I should get up.

I opened the windows to allow the cool Seattle air to circulate through my living room thinking that might bring some clarity to my situation. I slept on an old couch because I didn’t own a bed, and I couldn’t get that fact out of my mind.

That was the low point. I needed a bed, but had little money. So I called my father who sent me $300 to purchase a mismatched mattress and box springs. I borrowed a friend’s truck and hauled it myself. I know it doesn’t sound like much. It certainly wasn’t much to look at. But it was a start. I considered it a blessing that I had a place to sleep.

And what my father doesn’t know till now is that I talked the salesperson down to $100. The remaining $200 was spent on groceries and keeping the electricity on that month.

I don’t often reflect back on this time of my life. Maybe there’s a part of me that feels it will disappear if I don’t attempt to recall it.

The show tonight reminded that many of these experiences still reside close to the surface. And maybe it’s not such a bad thing that I remember how I pulled myself off the couch and began to take small steps towards a better life.

Moving Away From The Mainstream

Tonight I asked Kim what I thought was a harmless question that went something like, “If you didn’t care about what the other members of the book club thought, what book would you recommend we all read?”

Two seconds into her reply and numerous follow-up questions later, I realized my intention for asking the question had been garbled by its delivery. Two hours later I’m left to ponder a number of questions that came out of our discussion:

  • How narrow are my tastes in literature, music, and movies?
  • What does a person’s choice in literature, music, and movies tell us about them if anything?
  • Am I a snob because my tastes in those areas typically fall outside the mainstream?

I mentioned that most music I discover comes to me by referral, and if there’s a story behind it, then even better. A friend in high school told me about this group he saw in London that blew his mind. He described how hard and how loud they played. He told me how their guitarist jammed so hard he nearly fell off the stage. The group was The Who and I don’t think two days went by before I showed up on his doorstep with a blank cassette in hand ready to dub his Who’s Next album.

I wrongly assumed the book club would work in a similar fashion where each member would suggest books that stuck with them over the years or that moved them to action. Or just moved them. Instead everyone suggested books they wanted to read but hadn’t. To me, this is the difference between a friend telling me about his favorite album versus telling me what album he’d like to listen to but hasn’t yet.

This isn’t to say this is how a book club should be run. This is the first club I’ve joined, and I did so based on the fact that I find each of the members interesting and a bit eclectic. Sure, I want to read a few books, but I’m also hoping to learn more about each person and what makes them tick. The people interest me more than the books.

The older I get the more I move away from the mainstream. I’m sure this is normal. It’s easy to round up a group of coworkers who want to see Avatar. But not as easy to drum up support to watch The Smartest Guys in the Room.

I doubt I’d recognize a song on the Top 40. Most blockbuster movies put me to sleep, and best seller and Oprah endorsed books just don’t capture my interest very often. This is where the snob in me comes out. I don’t look down on those whose interests bend towards the mainstream, but I find most mainstream art to be shallow and built for the short term.

For example, I can’t imagine my kids will grow up caring about a single performer who has appeared on American Idol. But I’d like to think they will learn to appreciate Revolver or Wish You Were Here one day.

But I could be wrong.

And to answer the three questions I posed; quite, not much, and maybe.

What’s Next?

When are you happiest?

This is a question I’ve been giving some thought to over the past couple of months. As I’ve been getting a business off the ground, I’ve bounced ideas around on what exactly I want to do for the next 25 years. When I graduated from college I took a position with a retail company because it gave me an opportunity to relocate to Seattle.

I’d like to say that most job changes came about because I saw a bigger opportunity or a new challenge. But that’s wouldn’t be true. With the exception of one job, I job hopped for a bigger paycheck. I’ve viewed myself as a free agent, offering my technical services to the highest bidder giving little thought to much else.

I should have learned my lesson as a missionary serving in Germany. I spent my first year trying to make others happy. I followed their rules and let them dictate what I did and when I did it. I experienced little happiness and no success until the second year when I decided to use my brain. I stopped trying to live up to the unreachable expectations of people I didn’t care for anyway, and starting being the kind of missionary that I felt comfortable being. Not surprising, this is when I began to have success. IMG_0271

I feel I’ve managed my career in the same manner. I’ve spent nearly 20 years trying to reach a bar set by others. Settle in to a safe and comfortable corporate job. Don’t rock the boat. Make your boss look good even if all he does is watch MSNBC all day.

What makes me happy is being able to select whom to work with. That means saying, “no” which isn’t easy when the business is young. But it’s critical.

I’ve also enjoyed pushing myself into new areas and out of my comfort zone. I’ve had to expand my network and ask for assistance instead of do everything on my own. I’ve had to build a foundation of trust with my business partner and figure out how our differing skills can best serve our clients. In a corporate environment, I’m often pitted against my peers in a race for the largest year-end bonus. I had little incentive to help my follow coworkers look good. But that has no place in a partnership and I’m consistently amazed at how much two people can accomplish when working towards the same goal.

I wish I had a home office, but I’m currently sharing one with four children, a dog and occasionally the neighbor’s Tonka trucks. There are times when I need to get away and clear my mind. Other times, I blow off work until everyone has gone to bed. I’m still figuring things out.

But last Friday, I sat in our van with my youngest son while we waited for the bus to take him to school. He was describing Scooby Doo or Dora or whatever. I only understood bits and pieces. I pulled his hoodie up over his head and adjusted his backpack.

The bus arrived and I took him by the hand and crossed the street. We walked up the bus stairs and towards the back of the bus. I picked him up and placed him in an open seat. I strapped him in and kissed him on the cheek.

I stood next to the van as I watched his bus pull away.

And I thought, this is when I’m happiest. Right now, standing in the street wearing slippers and my University of Utah hat.

Whatever my career holds next, I need to ensure that I don’t miss too many of these moments.

Whom Do You Trust?

When I began this blog, I wrote mostly about technology. It didn’t take long to learn that I had little to say, and what I did say, wasn’t interesting. Then Engadget and Gizmodo burst onto the scene and killed the category.

Yet, as much as I enjoy keeping up on the latest gadgets, large sites like these have little influence in what I purchase. I’m far more likely to make a purchase after Dave Winer blogs favorably about a netbook, or when Aaron Massey tells me how his children use his iPad.

Whenever Ben Talbert or Keli Dean share a song, I’ll immediately add it to my playlist. If Mike Henneke mentions a new blog he’s following, I’ll add it to Google Reader. If Louis Gray posts a link to an article on Twitter, I’ll add it to Instapaper.

Each of these individuals have earned my trust, and I value their opinions.

Google can clutter the web with ads and companies can seed product reviews at Amazon. And that ad disguised as a travelogue of Disney World is just another mommy or daddy blogger who didn’t want to get left out of the action. I can’t tell whose pockets are being lined with free products anymore.

That’s why I turn to my friends when I’m researching a product. With that in mind, I want to share two products I love. (I purchased both products and I don’t use affiliate links.)

The first product is geeky and takes some work to install, but the payoff is nothing short of a stunning speed increase of my Windows 7 box: Corsair Force 115 GB SSD.

I replaced an aging SATA drive tonight with the Corsair. It took the good part of my evening to drop an image of my Windows partition onto the SSD, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. My system is so quiet and boots in under 30 seconds. And, oh the speed!

For about $160, it feels like one of those Maximum PC geeks got hold of my PC and overclocked the crap out of every component. The speed in intoxicating. Why did I take so long to make the move? SSDs have come down I price, but are still expensive per gigabyte. They also work best when paired with newer motherboards. But no way am I ever going back to SATA.

The other product I recommend is for iPhone and iPad owners: Reeder.

I use Reeder more than any other app on my iPhone and iPad. What is it? Well, Reeder is an RSS reader that syncs with Google Reader. This is the most elegant app I’ve used. So simple on the surface, but incredibly powerful without shoving feature after feature in your face. Reeder reveals itself slowly, but you’ll come to appreciate the dozens of small touches that make it a joy to use.

This is the app that, more than any other, keeps me on iOS. Flipboard gets all the press and it’s well-deserved. But it’s Reeder I’m use more than any other app.

The iPhone version is $2.99 while the iPad version is $4.99. If you read even a handful of blogs, you’ll love it.

Have you found any great products lately?

With A Little Luck

By the time I was able to purchase my own music, cassette tapes were pushing records off the shelves of music stores. Remember Musicland and all those corny posters? My parents kept a collection of records in the closet, and I’d thumb through them regularly. Fleetwood Mac, Chicago, Frankie Valli, the Four Seasons, and the Beatles. They were all there including a few obscure bands I’d never heard of like Paul Revere & the Raiders.

I couldn’t wait till I had a job and could add some modern rock and roll to the mix. A young man can only handle so much Oh What a Night.

Holding your favorite album in your hand is almost spiritual. Cassettes and CDs don’t’ compare. With an album, you get a feel for the band. The cover art becomes a conversation piece, and it’s tangible.

Nobody had to tell me who my dad’s favorite bands were. I could tell from the condition of the albums. The most haggard looking album was one from Three Dog Night.  And on first listen I knew his favorite song was Out in the Country because that’s where the needle dropped into the deepest grooves giving it a rich sound not found on a CD or MP3.

I kept a small case of cassette tapes in our Buick Skyhawk. It was our first and only car with a tape deck. My favorites looked like blanks because all the print had rubbed off. The only two cassettes I wore out were Pyromania and Dark Side of the Moon. Or maybe the player had enough  Rock Rock (Till You Drop) and decided to swallow the tape. If the eraser end of a pencil couldn’t wrap it back around the spindle, I was out of luck. Back to Musicland for a 3-pack of TDKs.

Kids today have iTunes and the 25 Most Played smart playlist keeping track of their favorites. At the top of my list with 277 plays is Indian Summer from Chris Botti. It’s not my favorite song, but I listen to it while I write which is often. I won’t have a stack of albums my kids can thumb through like I did. I play enough music through my computer speakers that they probably know I like classic rock and jazz. One day they will know albums such as The Wall, Led Zeppelin II, Sticky Fingers, and Who’s Next are sacred and should be treated as such.

With iTunes, iPods and digital subscriptions on the horizon, they may never have to replace their favorite album. Do kids listen to albums anymore or do they cherry pick their favorite songs off iTunes? Some of my favorite songs on albums were those that never made it to radio.

My kids haven’t caught the music bug like I did at an early age. With a Little Luck from Paul McCartney and Wings was the song that hooked me, and I was fortunate enough to purchase the 45 before my parents could decipher the first few lyrics.

With a little luck, we can help it out

We can make this whole damn thing work out

With A Little Luck

But my parents were reasonable. As long I didn’t sing “damn” I was OK. I didn’t want to be forced to play the “But you went to a Doors concert” card.

What albums or cassette did you have to replace?

H-O-R-S-E

It was well into the afternoon. The kids were home from school, and I sat on the couch exhausted from working till 4 in the morning.

I had a project to finish, and I do my best work after midnight. I love to sit at my computer with only the glow of the monitor knowing everyone else, including the dog, is asleep upstairs. With my headphones draped over my ears, I can crank Pink Floyd and get through work at twice the pace it takes during the day.

In the background I heard Super Mario sounds coming from a Nintendo DS. My youngest son must have found the stash of games. But I was too tired to do anything about it. The worst that could happen is he deletes a game like Animal Crossing with a character one of his siblings has been nurturing for the past three years.

 linkball

Do you ever find yourself sitting alone in a daze? My days are no longer spent in an office, but I’m no less busy than before. The clock is a drill sergeant, shouting out reminders throughout the day. The race to get the kids out of the house in the morning is followed by the race around the neighborhood to retrieve them in the afternoon.

Then there’s dance, scouts, piano and birthday parties, and before long, it’s 9 pm and the kids are supposed to be in bed, but they aren’t because the adult supervision ran out of energy and motivation hours earlier. That’s about the time I find a note from the teacher reminding all parents to make sure their children get a good night’s rest so they’ll be ready to take the statewide tests throughout the week.

Oh, and don’t forget to send snacks to school!

As I considered finding a room where I could rest, I looked out the window to see my son tossing a blue soccer ball towards the lopsided basketball hoop. Why was he using a soccer ball instead of the four basketball he could easily each in the garage?

As a parent, I’m thrilled to see my children take up an activity like basketball that I enjoyed at their age. I want my son to share a few traits and interests with me.

But not too many.

I want to give him space to explore and experiment with activities that catch his interest. Maybe even turn me on to a few I hadn’t considered.

I recall my father telling me he always wanted a son who was left-handed. He loved baseball and lefties are one step closer to first base. Although I am right-handed, I was his son who loved baseball and we still discuss games that go back nearly 25 years. Like the rocket Mike Tueller hit off the church at Ben Lomond. Or the grounder I slapped at Logan that hit a rock and took a lucky bounce over the shortstop’s head to score two runs in the top of the 7th.

There’s just something about baseball. The grass, the crack of the bat and the lack of clock give it a unique feel. It’s as if every game I played is stored on a Tivo in the back of my brain.

I’m no different than my father in that I want my sons to play baseball. I know it’s a sport that best taken up at an early age. And maybe this summer or next my son will ask if he can join a T-ball team.

I decided to head outside and show him how to play H-O-R-S-E and use the square to shoot a bank shot. The game doesn’t come naturally to him like it does to his older sister. But he works at it, takes instruction and doesn’t get frustrated easily.

Maybe by next week I’ll introduce him to a real basketball.

But until then, he’ll be shooting granny shots with a blue soccer ball. And that’s fine with me.

Beware The Roach Motel

It’s easy to see why millions of people have turned to Facebook and Twitter as their preferred repository of content. More people are storing pictures on Facebook than any other service including Flickr. That’s millions of photos, links, status updates, even blog posts each day hosted for free by a service which is heading towards a billion users.

Everyone is doing it so it must be OK, right?roach motel

Twitter is no different, growing by leaps and bounds and right into the public conscience. Since joining Twitter in December of 2006, I’ve added 30,326 tweets to the system.

Facebook doesn’t provide an easy way to see how much content I’ve put into their system, but it’s a lot.

Should I be worried?

Both Facebook and Twitter are free. At least today they are. Maybe they will always remain so, but I’ve been conditioned to consider what I’m giving up in return for using a free service.

As best I can tell, I’m giving up my personal information to Facebook to be sold to advertisers whose ads show up on my Wall. But I’m not entirely certain. I could be giving up more or less.

I’ve locked down my privacy settings as tight as I can. But I’m skeptical because every so often, Facebook tends to forget them and begins blasting me with email every time someone posts to a group I belong to.

On Twitter, I have no idea what I’m giving up. Occasionally I’ll see a promoted tweet which leads me to believe someone is paying Twitter for placement in my twitter stream. But I don’t know for certain.

And that’s the problem.

When I pay Bluehost about $100 each year to host my blog, I know exactly what I’m giving up in order to use their service. The rules are clear and agreed upon by both parties. There shouldn’t be any surprises.

But using free online services like Facebook and Twitter leaves me with an uneasy feeling that the rules can change anytime without my knowledge. What if Facebook decided to index what products I like and display them friends in a manner that looks as if I’m endorsing them? Oh wait, they did that.

What if Twitter allowed companies to index all my tweets and then offer products and services based those I mention right there in my tweet stream? Or maybe Twitter could one day decide to promote some users over others? Whoops, they did that.

I’ve made a large commitment to these services based on the amount of content they are freely hosting on my behalf. What if their business models don’t pan out and they disappear overnight? All that content of mine could be flushed down the virtual toilet. It was probably never mine to begin with.

That’s why my blog has become more valuable in the era of status updates and tweets. Unlike free services, I own the content I post to my blog. I can decide to run ads or not. I don’t have to worry about upsetting the admins and having my account suspended. I other words, I have control over my content.

With a few clicks, I’m able to easily backup each of the nearly 2000 posts in minutes. Try backing up all your content on Facebook or Twitter, and you’ll see it’s not easy to do. Why is that?

Because neither Facebook or Twitter want to make it easy for you to migrate your content to a competing service. Maybe Facebook and Twitter don’t face stiff competition today, but who knows in a few years from now. Didn’t MySpace once look unstoppable? That wasn’t long ago either.

Think about where you place your most valuable content. And ask yourself what you’re giving up by using that hip new free service everyone is talking about. Consider posting content to your blog and using Facebook and Twitter to drive traffic back to the place you have some control.

Beware the roach motel.

Rich

I caught up with a friend I’ve not seen or heard from in twenty years. We met at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah in 1987 and struck up a friendship almost immediately. He taught me that a tie should drop just below the beltline if tied properly. He also accused me of calling ticky-tack fouls in basketball which I deny to this day. I think he was jealous I received more mail.

We spoke for 90 minutes about our jobs, family and friends. Twenty years disappeared, and I felt like I was back at the MTC shooting the breeze with him over handfuls of Cap’N Crunch Berries.

I also spoke with my father on the phone this weekend. He told me about his new iPad, and I gave him some tips on getting it setup with Gmail along with a handful of my favorite apps. Within five minutes we’d caught up, said goodbyes and promised to chat that night on Messenger.

Then tonight, two friends stopped by to help me install a new starter in the Maxima. One helped me remove the old starter, and another helped me install the new one. Both worked in the rain.

This is just the beginning. I could mention the friend who shares music, Diet Cokes and books with me or the friend who took care of the outstanding balance on a dental bill when he heard I’d lost my job. And I can’t forget the one who drops off BBQ and cinnamon rolls on Sunday nights just after the kids head to bed so I don’t have to share.

I realize the times of my life where I’ve been happiest are when I’ve had close friendships, not just a lot of acquaintances. It takes work, and it’s not something I’ve done well for stretches at a time.

But about a year ago I decided to focus on the few close friends I had instead of worry about about those who are happy with how things are. I started with my father, and have slowly branched out from there.

My life today is rich. Rich with friends.

8 Minus 5

I pulled up a chair and began thinking of all the tasks I didn’t complete today.

I didn’t make an appointment to have our car repaired.

I didn’t take the lawnmower in for service.

 alynn

I didn’t fold the laundry.

I didn’t fix dinner so Kim could relax on her birthday.

I thought about calling my mother. I considered fixing the fan on the kid’s computer. And I was this close to getting on the treadmill.

But I didn’t. None of it.

And then I heard a pencil hit the floor followed by a workbook. As I turned around to tell Anna Lynn to get to bed, she asked, “Can you help me with my math?”

I moved the Diet Coke off my desk to make room for her workbook full of subtraction problems.

8 minus 5.

Anna thought for a moment. A few fingers went up and then down.

“Three.”

We did a few more. Each column taking less time than the previous one. 

“Sometimes I draw my sixes backwards.”

“Let’s practice a few”, I told her.

She found the culprits, giggled and broke out an eraser. After the sixes were fixed she decided to repair some 5’s that looked like 2’s.

“I fixed them so they don’t look silly anymore.”

I agreed.

And that’s  how I spent the next fifteen minutes. Until every number that could be subtracted from another was completed. She jumped off the chair, gave me a hug, and darted upstairs.

The most important part of my day didn’t sit still long enough to make the list.

Who cares.