swing your way to a more positive outlook
I’ll go out on a limb and suggest that the title of this piece may have turned a few heads. So, now that I have your attention, I’m going to tee up (pun most definitely intended) a few thoughts about how I’ve learned to be a more positive person by sucking at golf.
snow daze
It’s been a week or so since the big snow hit town. When I say, “big snow,” I’m talking big for Nashville. We saw about eight inches where I live, an amount that evokes ridicule from my friends back in Western New York. But here, eight inches might just as well be the end of days.
a new age of life
Amanda Morgan asked me to write a feature article for Older Americans Month. So, I guess that makes me an older American. But, if I may borrow a retort from the Dread Pirate Roberts... “only compared to some.”
I agreed to write this because I like Mandy. Plus, it’s rare I get to write something for work that I can also republish on my personal site. And, well, I’ve encountered some very cool seniors in my life, and it feels good to tell a story or two about a few of them.
who needs sticks and stones?
You hear it, right? I mean, you do if you’re my age, plus or minus five years. “Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me!”
It’s the snappy comeback our parents taught us to sing at our frenemies when we were kids. And it worked right up until someone decided to pick up a stick or a stone.
silver linings (playbook not required)
So I was out for a walk this morning with my friend, Neil Diamond. Neil and I aren’t close like Barry Manilow and I are, mind you. Neil doesn’t send me email. He just sings to me sometimes. And he reminds of the days when life was a lot simpler.
wake-up call
This is going to be a fairly radical departure from what you’re used to seeing from me. I don’t usually write about things as serious as this. Well, that’s not exactly true. I write about serious things all the time; I just don’t often publish them. It’s my way of processing situations I find stressful, painful, or otherwise distasteful. And truth be told, I think I’m better at writing than speaking. I still ramble—my favorite “editor” once described my writing style as “breezy”—but I try to do it in an accessible way. Anyway, if you’ve read my stuff before, then maybe buckle up. It’s about to get much more raw than you may be expecting.
unnoticed by design
Do you remember your first coach? I’m not talking about a sports coach. Not necessarily. It could be, but it doesn’t have to be. For me, a coach is someone who sees your gifts and encourages you to use them. Someone who sees your gaps and helps you fill them. Someone who sees your potential and guides you toward it.
My first coach was my grandmother. I write about her a lot because she was awesome. Think of the most awesome person you know. Then apply a factor of 10. That would be her.
crushing cliches
To me, beauty lives inside a person. It makes itself known through their eyes, and more obviously, their mouths.
A smile is often the first thing I see in someone. Does it appear genuine? Is it so big it takes up the person’s whole face? Do the eyes match the smile? That combo, my friends, is pure beauty that can’t come from the skin. And you don’t need to look very far to see it in the wild. Just spend some time observing people at restaurants, the airport, or even your local gym.
the letter z: plural
There are lots of things I could or should be doing right this very minute. I’m traveling for work, so there is an endless list of client tasks I could be cutting into. Well, not endless. Long. Long enough that it would spill onto the back of a page if anyone used the backs of pages anymore. I even promised my client—the company’s CIO—that I would do one of the things on that list tonight. And I will. Probably. Just not now. Because I’m doing this.
the spirit of christmas
Maybe the new glasses have triggered the sentimental ball of mush I prefer to keep from most people (or at least I think I do). Maybe it’s because I’m inching closer to a milestone birthday. Maybe it’s because I’ve been listening to Christmas music all week. Or maybe it’s because I work six seconds from my bed, so I haven’t worn pants to the office since I got back from Australia. Relax HR friends. I wear shorts… as far as you know.
a little mass hysteria among friends
I’ve been a curious person for much of my life. I ask a lot of questions. And I like answers. It’s fun to figure things out. Even more fun when I’m right. So, what am I right about? It was seriosity, not curiosity, that did in our friend, the cat.
As it turns out, I think this has all been a massive conspiracy to keep people like you and me from questioning things. Maybe even a means of avoiding change. No, I’m not going political. And I’m not going to sing the praises of my millennial friends again—although I do love a millennial that defies the stereotype.
un-silent lucidity: a case for bathroom unity
Before I start, let me just say this is in no way political commentary. Much like the anthem debate, I’m betwixed and bewildered as to how it’s even become a government matter. But then again, we did pay for an entire Congressional inquiry over steroids in major league baseball. Someone help me… how many millions did that cost us? And what, exactly, did we gain from it?
But that’s not the point. The point is that something as monumentally stupid as where people pee is apparently an issue that can only be solved by a bunch of old white guys in the federal government. Because they’re so good at making decisions that represent the people who elected them.
you keep using that word…
In the last several years, I’ve worked with some very smart people in researching in how a company’s values align with the personal values of the people who work there. We ask people what things they value most, and the very first thing that comes out of many mouths is “fairness.” Oh, if only that’s what they really wanted. But in the immortal words of everyone’s favorite Spaniard, Inigo Montoya, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
the morning after pill
Full disclosure. I waited a few days before starting this sequel to my pre-reunion musings. If it were a real “morning after” situation, I might be more nervous. Especially at my age. But thanks to a couple precision snips and what I like to imagine as a soldering gun for doctors, that hasn’t been a concern since before there was a real “morning after pill.”
ain’t got no style? don’t worry. be happy
People do not speak in AP style. Or APA style. Or Chicago Manual of style. The only proper English is the kind the person you’re talking to understands. The rules of style, grammar (yes, even commas) don’t matter as long as the person you’re trying to communicate with gets what you’re trying to say. I’m sorry, Jane. I’m sorry, Karlin. I’m sorry to Jim Yates, Sam Bertino, Mrs. Stavisky, and Miss Harrington.
you define you
Remarkable.
I hate it when people start presentations by defining a word or phrase from the dictionary. You know, shit like “Webster defines unimaginative as a person who starts his presentations with dictionary definitions.”
To be fair, I don’t hate those people. Hell, I don’t even know most of them. I’m sure they have wonderful imaginations that simply escape them at the very moment they need to begin their presentations or speeches. I just think there are better ways to get to what a word or phrase really means. Ways like… oh, I don’t know, asking people what it means to them. But I’ll get to that in a minute. Right now, let’s get back to my word.
shh. be vewy, vewy quiet. i’m hunting twewth
It’s either common knowledge or plausible bullshit, but someone told me a long time ago that the word we know today as news is an acronym for North, East, West, South. The idea is that it—news—is information from every direction. Truth people can use to help them make sense of the world around them. Well it seems evident… or apparent… Those words are interchangeable, you know. I know that, not because my Windows thesaurus tells me so, but because of my friend Michael O’Rielly.
the new professionalism
I remember the first time someone called me unprofessional. It was 1995. I was dressed and ready to go see a client. One of my first. My boss approached me and said, “Hey, that’s a cool shirt… I wouldn’t wear it to a see a client. But I really like it.”
It was just a plain white dress shirt, but it wasn’t an official-bought-it-at-an-anchor-store-in-the-mall-dress-shirt. It wasn’t made of extra-starched cardboard. And it didn’t have a button-down collar in a time when that’s just what you wore to work. But I got the point.
opposite day every day
A friend and former colleague of mine had a thing she did. She called it exercising her brain. I’m pretty sure she saw it on a website somewhere. Or maybe she was up late one night and bought a multi-CD box set (yes, it was that long ago) on QVC. Maybe she lost an ill-advised New Year’s Eve bet. I honestly don’t remember how it started.
I also don’t remember now if it was weekly or monthly, but for one whole day during that period, she would do everything with her opposite hand. Brush her teeth. Write. Eat. You name it, she did it. And I’ll admit that I derived just a little sadistic pleasure from watching the show.
honky tonk hockey
… one tradition I simply can’t embrace is the chorus of “You suck” and “It’s all your fault” chants that erupts across the arena when Nashville scores. Like most people who grew up playing sports, my coaches taught me the value of good sportsmanship. You cheer for your team—not against your opponent.