thirty years can give you such a crick in the neck!
Has it been that long? Most days I don’t feel as old as I must be to have a 30-year high school reunion coming up in a month. But if I’m being honest, the other days I feel considerably older. So, I guess it all balances out. Three decades ago I was one of a few hundred kids who assembled at the Kenan Center in Lockport, New York for our graduation ceremony. Let me pause for a minute to reminisce about the Kenan Center…
there’s not enough red hot to make crow taste good
Now that I got that out of the way, I guess it’s time to end my year of near-bliss. It was probably inevitable. I mean I’m supposed to be a professional communicator, after all. That means people pay me to write stuff, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m good at it. That’s really up to you. Either way, I should probably be accessible on social media. More than just LinkedIn, I mean.
from under a rock: episode one
I’ve always loved music. That’s not exactly a grand reveal, is it? I’ve blogged about everything from Canadian hard rock of the 80s to Barry Manilow. And now I’m doing it again.
Over the years, I’ve evolved from the teenager locked in his bedroom blaring Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and Grim Reaper at top volume into someone who truly appreciates people who are good at their craft. It may be the Nashville effect. You can’t swing a dead cat in this town without hitting a super-talented musician.
everybody loves barry, so raymond can suck it
Barry Manilow and I are pen pals. Well, not exactly. I mean who uses pens anymore or even writes actual letters? Be honest. Other than signing a birthday card, when’s the last time you used a writing utensil to send a message to someone? Post It notes don’t count.
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.
memories and inspirations
… inspirations can be everywhere—sometimes much closer to home than you notice. Much like Rik, my cousin Mike Gagliardi was an inspiration to me. He is probably the most talented person I know. He’s easily the best hockey player Lockport, New York has ever produced. And that’s as much a fact as green olives being the best pizza topping and blue cheese over ranch on wings. So please don’t even try to argue. It makes you look silly.
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.
freeeedommm!
It’s official and final. Well, I guess it won’t be “officially final” for another week or so. They give you a little grace period in case you change your mind. Kind of like a free trial, but in reverse. To see what kind of withdrawal symptoms show up. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s all over. I don’t expect any compulsion to reverse course. Not anticipating night sweats. No 20/20 hindsight. No turning back.
not my disney world
I’m going to catch a lot of shit for this but I find it’s best to just come out with these things. I’m not the world’s biggest fan of DisneyWorld. I liked it better when I was a kid. When I could watch The Wonderful World of Disney on TV. Escape from Witch Mountain. Herbie the Love Bug. The Incredible Mr. Limpett. That was my Disney.
got any gum?
We’re on the eve of the inauguration of a new president whose name people like to invoke with that title about as often as the kids at Hogwarts use the name Voldemort. I have to say I’ve been mostly entertained by the bitching between my blue and red friends, neither color of which I can fully relate. I like purple. Especially the darker shades.
y? because purple
The gym is becoming my second favorite place for people-watching. Nothing beats the airport. Any airport. Any city. It’s really too bad they stopped letting people go to the gate without a ticket or I’d be compelled to grab lunch and hang out there just to watch people come and go. Think about it. There are plenty of places to get food. Ample seating. And unlimited entertainment. But back to the gym.
i admit it… i’m afraid to drive
I never thought I’d say that. When I was 14 I couldn’t wait to get my license. I drove all the time. Yes, I said 14 and no it wasn’t completely legal. My friend Kevin and I went to the DMV as soon as I turned 16 so I could take the exam for my permit. I scheduled my driver’s test the same day. Hell, I even taught a few of my friends to drive.
cooking goats with gas, grins, and shinola
Growing up in one of the few places wedged between Buffalo, New York and Canada can be a bit of a sheltered existence at times. I’m not talking about weather, although we typically got a lot less snow than our friends in South Buffalo. Some in my family would say they deserve to have more snow because they’re Polish—Polocks is what they’d call them.
make way for a true free spirit
So now that I’ve finished my rambling intro, let me introduce you to the reason for it. I went to high school with Marie (Nikodem) Loerzel but, sadly, our paths didn’t cross very often. Marie seems to have understood then what it took me much longer to absorb. As she so eloquently writes, “being respected is more important than being accepted.”
howe about that!
Okay. I know I’m late to the party on this, but I needed some time to let it sink in and really think about it. Mr. Hockey left us on June 10, 2016, but what you didn’t see—or at least I didn’t—is the typical conversation about him being one of the greatest players the game has ever seen. There’s a good reason for that. He isn’t one of the greatest. He is the greatest. He had no equal and there is no debate.
(canadian) music holds the secret
My love of Canadian music has been well-documented—by zombies. Well, not really. But I read a blogpost a few months ago with a tip for identifying passive voice. If you can add “by zombies” to the end of your sentence, it’s passive. So sorry for the passive opening. I love Canadian music. There. That’s more direct. Moving on…