Life, Work & Wonder

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  • What an incredible journey the novel “Still Alice” is

    At night I am reading “Still Alice.” What an incredibly moving journey it is.

    The movie was great. But the book is even better. Because the author puts us inside of Alice’s head, and here we are as a respected Harvard professor who love our work, and then we begin the very gradual then the very sudden process of going through the stages of (Early Onset) Alzheimers from the initial wondering if something is wrong, to learning something is wrong, to dreading telling our family, then feeling like we’ve disappointed our family, and then in just a very short year starting to get confused and losing our memories and not being able to work anymore.

    When I was 22 I had a professor who I thought was bat shit crazy. I went to class every day, did all the assignments with reasonable feedback, and then was called into his office a few weeks before the end of class where he seemed irritated with me and said, “I don’t see how you’re going to pass this class.” There were many times in college where I deserved a D or an F and was able to connive my way into a B or a C, but this was a time I deserved an A or a B and got a C. I was pissed and went to the Dean, who backed the professor and not me, and for many years I’ve thought back on how bat shit crazy that professor was. But last night it struck me that maybe he had Alzheimers. Or dementia. Or even just mental illness. And suddenly I felt very sorry that I was not kinder to him. Or was not more attentive to those beautiful people I’ve known (I’m thinking of one in particular) who died of Alzheimers.

    What I’m learning from this book and from typing this is that when all else fails, show compassion and kindness. Because it’s possible that their brain is going through trauma we just can’t see.

    Here are to the people we’ve loved. And to the people who have lost the second most important thing we all have after life — our memories. And here is to the book Still Alice, which robbed me of some sleep last night but also is opening my eyes a little bit more which is a beautiful thing.

  • 34 years later, email still uses most of my screen time

    WRITING PROMPT: What app uses most of your screen time, and do you feel bad about it?

    I was 24 — in 1992 — the first time I ever saw email.

    I was working as a teller at a local national bank branch, and one day they installed email on our branch’s shared computer. It was pretty mystical, really. Suddenly, you could go into a black dos based screen, type in someone’s email address, send them that email, and they’d receive it. We didn’t have to send a memo versus interoffice mail, or call the person on the phone, we could quickly type up something, hit send, know that they’d receive it instantly and when they could they could get back to us. It was pretty surreal, actually. Almost magical.

    Very few of us actually needed to send emails, but one day I thought it would be fun to email the CEO of our 50,000 employee company. So I searched and found his email address, then typed a polite email along the lines of, “Hi, I recently graduated college, I’m an employee at one of the bank’s branches, I really enjoy working here and I really love the email access we’ve been given.” I remember word spreading around my six colleagues and they gathered around and watched as I finished the email then hit “Send.” Whoosh.

    Maybe because my dad’s career was always fast tracked and at the time he was an executive at a Fortune 500 company, but I wasn’t intimidated at all by this endeavor. I was on employee at the company, he was in charge of the company, why wouldn’t he want to hear how much I appreciated working for the bank and the email he’d probably authorized? Still, people were amazed (or maybe stupefied) that I’d sent that off, and for the next few hours people would ask, “Did you get a response?”

    Then a response came in. He replied that he appreciated hearing from me, that he appreciated that I chose that bank as my first after-college job, and what were the long term ambitions for my career because maybe he could introduce me to that department? It was a minor celebration among all of us that I’d gotten an encouraging response.

    Except our Branch Manager From Hell didn’t see it that way. Not one bit. I was young at the time, so didn’t quite realize that there were some good bosses, a lot of less-than-stellar bosses, and a handful of spectacularly toxic bosses in this world. 34 years later, I can honestly say she was one of the latter. She was spectacularly bad on morale (for too many reasons to list here). And when word trickled through the branch that I’d received a response from the CEO, she marched up to the front of the branch and asked to speak with me. To make a long story short, she was irritated that I’d sent an email to the CEO. She felt like it reflected poorly on her branch because it showed that maybe we had too much time on our hands, that it was a misuse of company resources, that I’d gone around the chain of command (which wasn’t my intention), and that it was borderline insubordinate. I was instructed to delete the CEO’s email with no response, had a formal notice of unsatisfactory deposited in my HR Records, and was suspended from unsupervised computer usage for 30 days. This might seem like an extreme response, and it was; maybe her only justification was at the time email was still so new people were trying to figure it out and perhaps to her it was a little too much like witchcraft so reacted in kind?

    I learned something from that experience.

    I learned that most people are innately fearful of superiors who are many rungs up on the ladder, and that to be unafraid (confident) around them is actually a potential career booster. I learned that there are a million different unsuspecting ways to trigger a terrible leader. And that email was actually a pretty powerful and awesome real-time tool.

    Over the next 15 years I would use email extensively. To reach out to friends, negotiate contracts, and even to expand my network. I loved that email was instant, that I could put details in emails that most people will read, and just found it to be an amazing communication tool that was actually superior to phone call, meeting or (later) text.

    At a glance, I would say I use other applications more frequently than email. But if I drill down into it that’s not really true for me. I still spend an hour each morning scrolling through my email, reading through the day’s news (including great newsletters by the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Morning Brew, Apple News and The Seattle Times). And I still use it to send and receive detailed responses from people I need to have detailed interactions with.

    So I remember that first time using email in 1992. And how magical it seemed to be. And 34 years later I can still say it’s the application I use most and I have no regrets about using it.

  • My Love Of Mondays

    For much of my life, I’ve felt genuine relief on Mondays.

    When I was a kid, weekends could be exhausting. Mom and dad were tireless do-it-yourselfers and socializers, and weekends often meant going store to store to store (before Home Depot was a thing) and then night time was often going to their friends’ house for dinner. So Mondays — ESPECIALLY during the summer — I just felt the strongest sense of relief.

    Then at some point I became a parent, and weekends meant play dates, or birthday parties, or various school or kid functions. It was a privilege to spend weekends this way, but also so very demanding in a variety of ways.  So when Monday came I just felt the strongest sense of relief to drop the kids off at school then to just focus on work.

    In recent years, weekends haven’t meant insane schedules so Mondays are less meaningful. Except this past weekend we were so busy (with mostly fun things) going from event to event to event, and today it just felt so wonderful to wake up knowing that it was Monday, the chaos of the weekend is over, and I can start rolling up my sleeves and focus on work while taking a break here and there.

    So (perhaps?) much of the working world dread Mondays. But for me, for much of my life, the irony of Mondays is that yes they mean school or work but in a strange way they also mean freedom. The escape of chaos and back-to-back events and to just focus on the job at hand. Which now that I think about it is why I’ve always strived for careers that provide some level of autonomy, and why I detest workplaces that over schedule internal status meetings. I guess ultimately I just crave some control of my calendar during the weekdays in general and Monday in particular as a mental break of sorts

    So here are to jobs that provide us with some level of autonomy and control. And to weekends. But also to Mondays, when maybe just maybe we regain some control of our lives after hectic weekends.

    Note: Filed happily away in the First World Problems file. How blessed I am to have first world problems like over-scheduled weekends.

  • Travels By Michael Creighton

    PROMPT: One is one book that inspired you to travel

    I was never a Michael Creighton reader. Nothing against his writing, but his kinds of books just weren’t my highest priority in the finite amount of time I have in life.

    Until I discovered “Travels,” which some librarian in the Seattle Public Librarian system had decided to put out on a table as a recommended reading.

    How much I loved that book, with its short chapters documenting his travels one trip at a time. Of course, Creighton was a busy individual, what with being a best selling novelist, A-list director and a producer. And after each project he liked to unwind by traveling, usually to an off-the-trail non-touristy place that his travel agent would book for him.

    There were all kinds of travels he took, including scuba diving, venturing through the jungles of Southeast Asia, and my personal favorite of climbing Mount Kilamajoro. I thought these essays were interesting, efficient, honest and vulnerable, and also just captivating in the places they went.

    I will never be Michael Creighton. I’m not smart enough, driven enough, and organized enough to write best-selling commercial novels in my spare time. And I have no interest in being a movie producer or director. But how much fun it was to spend a few days dipping into the travels of his life, and I just love so much the unique way he chose to tell his story/memoir. And truth be told, it inspired me in my own way to travel a little bit off the beaten path when traveling and to not be afraid to try to blend in with the locals without worrying about the touristy-stuff. I’m on a five year break from these kinds of travels, but I expect that Larissa and I will pick it back up again in a different phase of our life.

  • I Never Ever Thought I’d Experience Divorce (1st of a series)

    The one thing I thought would never happen to me was divorce. Turns out, I was wrong.

    I met my future ex-wife when I was 23, we moved in together when I was 24, and we married when I was 26. For five years the marriage was nice, then for 15 years it was sometimes okay and sometimes frustrating, but always seemed pretty much rock solid. 

    It wasn’t a perfect marriage. My ex wife and I didn’t always align on things like money and aspirations. And we didn’t really align on important things like romance and intimacy. But I always thought we were friends, and for the most part it was a good enough marriage and sometimes a really fun marriage (my ex could plan a fun vacation with the best of them). 

    I remember volunteering for the crisis line in the late 2010s, before I realized my marriage was going to end. I had a few callers who were fretting about a failed marriage or a pending divorce, and to be honest it bothered me that I couldn’t really identify with them on that piece, because after all I myself would never be divorced. I’d experienced a lot in my life, including my own near death, but divorce wasn’t going to be one of them, so I felt like that was a gap in my ability to fully help those callers whose desperation stemmed from divorce. So I read a book then two about divorce, so I could have a better feeling of what my callers were experiencing and thus maybe be in a better place of helping them. That was in 2019.  

    Then almost overnight my marriage just fell apart. 

    Like most things that come to an end, it was a gradual then sudden process. It began with some yelling (her yelling at me) then apologizing, yelling then apologizing. In the beginning this would happen about once every week or two. Within a few months it seems like every single day she was just so angry at me about one thing or another. Along the way there were other signs: she started spending less and less time at home, more and more time with friends or focused on her career path, and increasingly she was just ignoring me when we were at home. She started questioning me all the time, usually on the theme of why hadn’t I been more successful in life, with success being defined here as making exorbitant amounts of money and commanding exorbitant amounts of prestige. It was like she’d decided at age 50 that I was a total failure because I wasn’t a roaring success, and she resented me for that. 

    Still, even after 11 months of this, I still didn’t think that divorce was a possibility. It was just a rough patch. It would pass. I even asked if she would be interested in marriage counseling, which she didn’t appreciate at all: “Don’t you see how busy I am??? Why would you ask me that when you know I’m so busy!”

    The moment I realized that divorce was a possibility was the rainy evening she was hollering at me, and then she said, “We’ve been together for 25 years. I don’t want to get a divorce!” Huh?? Clearly divorce was on her mind. 

    To summarize what was maybe the longest month of my life, a few weeks later she asked if we could talk. And she said, “I can’t accomplish what I want to accomplish and be married to you.” And just like that the marriage was over. Something (divorce) a year earlier that I thought was something I’d never experience was suddenly very certainly happening to me.

    I remember the Frasier episode where he says, “My wife left me, and that was painful. Then she came back, and that was excruciating.” The end of my marriage was painful, sooooo very painful, and shocking to live through. And it was a very stressful two year process to get divorced that witnessed me age 15 years in that time (I’d been 51 and looked maybe 40, and then suddenly I was 52 and looked every bit of 52). But ultimately, my life is so much better now that I’m divorced, and it would have been a lot more excruciating in life had my ex wife stayed with me or tried to come back to me (not that either one of us would have allowed that to happen by that point).

    So I never expected to get divorced. But of course life doesn’t listen to me. And then it was so painful, first the very long process of divorce and then the even longer process of healing. Of truly moving on. The bad news is I had to go through that, but the good news is that a) I’m in a much much much better place now than I was during my first marriage and b) I can honestly empathize with and maybe even help anyone who is going through the unthinkable: the premature end of what was supposed to have been a lifetime together. 

    It has been five years. For the most part I’ve moved on, although I still harbor some hard feelings at times. And there is no question that I’m better off. So I am beginning the journey of writing down my process in case it benefits someone else in the mist of a divorce or a failing marriage. This is the first of a series of posts I’ll be making about my failed marriage, the divorce, the healing process, and ultimately redemption as I discovered a much better life for myself in the years after the divorce.

  • I Miss File Clerks

    PROMPT: What technology do you miss and why?

    My first white collar job was at a mortgage company in 1986. I was an assistant to the Quality Control Manager, meaning my job was to organize and prepare loan files for her to audit to ensure the company was following proper loan procedures.

    Every day my boss would give me a list of four loan files she wanted to review, and my job was to get the files, make copies of those files, then organize them in the way she preferred so that she could efficiently review them.

    It was, in a word, a tedious job. I had to wear a tie, worked from 8:00am (not 8:05 but 8:00) to 5:00pm (not 4:55, but 5:00) with exactly a one hour lunch and two fifteen minute breaks, and the job itself was just drudgery. But there were two things I liked about the job: my manager, who was skilled and compassionate, and the file clerk.

    The file clerk was the best piece of technology I ever used in a role.

    When we needed a file, I simply filled out a brief quarter-page form in ink, walked it over to her desk, dropped it in her “in box,” and then when she had retrieved the file she dropped it on my desk with a “hello” and a smile. That was it.

    There was no searching. No trying to remember what the file was named. No use of any kind of editor to reorder the pages. I simply filled out the form, the file magically appeared on my desk, and then I could get to work by simply sifting through papers.

    My job back then was tedious. But so is the modern world. Trying to remember passwords, and application names, and file names. Have to search emails for links, and dual authentication, and trying to find things on a tiny screen. Back then, the file clerk did all of that for me. The hardest part of my job besides the drudgery was clearing out the occasional paper jams when I had to make copies. And never — not once — did I have to work overtime. No one I knew worked overtime. Partially because at 5pm the file clerk and all other clerks hit the road, and there was no one available to process any work that we completed anyway.

    So yes, my job was drudgery, but the convenience of the file clerk was amazing. We don’t live in a world of convenience. We live in a world where the inconvenience was just redistributed, and ultimately are required to work more hours.

    So when I’m asked what technology I miss most of all, that’s an easy one. I miss the file clerk. Patty, wherever you are 40 years later, I miss your skillset!

  • How much I love sunny Seattle July mornings.

    How much I love sunny Seattle July mornings.

    They are magical in that they transport me back to my youth before I graduated college, not so much in the memories but in the feelings which then also elicit some memories.

    I remember waking up as a kid, pulling on shorts and a t-shirt, eating a bowl of cereal, and then feeling like the rest of the day was mine. When I was younger I ventured out into the neighborhood (which we could do in the 70s), and when I was a little older we’d play baseball or basketball. Sometime around 4pm, my parents or grandparents would take the cover off the pool and then we’d all swim.

    In college, July was a break from classes. I’d usually work a meaningless hourly job that ended when my shift ended. And then two things would happen: either I’d love that job and would have a terrific summer, or I wouldn’t like the job and that would make me look forward to returning to classes again.

    But those are the memories. And it’s not the memories that make July mornings awesome. It’s the feelings.

    July in Seattle is sunny. And not usually too hot. So much of the year in Seattle is gloomy. Which creates heaviness and foreboding in my spirit. But in July? In the morning? I’m rested from a day of sleep. And the sky is clear. And the sun is fresh, and still behind the trees.  And my spirit just feels sooooo free. And suddenly I feel like anything good is possible. Anything I want to accomplish is possible.

    For me, July is hope. It’s a happiness drug. And I love it so much. Like a drug.

    Sometime soon the summer will start to come to a close. But for now we’re in the heart of it. It’s a sunny mild morning in July. And the world just feels so amazing.

    I’m so happy right now.

  • The Happiness Of A Disastrous Yard

    Our front yard looks amazing. Two years ago we had a new walkway, patio and turf put down, and it truly looks amazing. The backyard? Another story.

    Our backyard is large by city standards, and is surrounded by Cedar Trees, a little oasis grove in the heart of a big city. But holy cow it’s a mess out there. Our attempts to plant grass are thwarted by the cedar trees, yet weeds thrive. We started earlier this year to try to improve the yard but it’s a start-and-stop process because life is just so busy all the time. So the backyard is a motley collection of bare dirt, overgrown grass, weeds, tarps and various supplies. Thank goodness that no one can see it.

    In theory that yard should stress me out. But it doesn’t. It actually makes me happy. Because it means we are prioritizing life over perfection, living and the moment rather than obsessing about our yard.

    There was a time in my life when I obsessed about the yard. Cut it, edged it, watered it, painstakingly weeded it. I fretted when it wasn’t perfect. But that came at a cost to me personally, because there were many times I should have been relaxing but instead I was obsessed about the darn yard.

    So I feel good now. That I have my priorities in order. And that makes me happy. And every single time I look out on that disaster of a back yard, I’m reminded of how much happier I am in life now than I was 20 years ago.

  • Every Single Year July 7th Is A Happy Day For Me Thanks To A Single Moment In 1977

    Yesterday was July 7th. July 7th is honestly one of my favorite dates each and every year.

    It’s not my birthday. It’s not Christmas. It’s not even a national holiday. But it’s a date where every single year I remember all four of my grandparents, the last of whom passed away 24 years ago (2002). Because I can still see my grandparents and my parents sitting in a circle in the backyard on a sunny July 7th 1977 chatting away about, of all things, the date. The reason I remember that this was July 7th 1977 is because that date was all 7’s — 7/7/77 — and I remember my grandparents talking about that and my dad’s dad saying, “The next one of these isn’t until August 1988” like they couldn’t believe that 1988 was actually in the distant horizon.

    It’s funny to think about July 7th 1977.

    For starters, 1988 was still 11 entire years away. But more than that Elvis was still alive. Let me repeat that. Elvis — who seems like he has been gone as long as Jesus or Muhammad or George Washington — was alive. He’d actually die a few weeks later, which I remember because a few weeks later I was riding with my friend Darryl’s family to the state fair while the radio was broadcasting news about Elvis’s death.

    Another strange thing about that date in 1977? The very first Star Wars was truly a monster first run hit in the actual theaters, wherein it seemed like every citizen in the entire country was patiently waiting in lines that were hours long for the privilege of seeing it for the first time. My family actually went to see it twice, something we never did (note: VCRs and even cable TV were not yet a thing — those would come in the early (cable) to mid (VCRs) 80s).

    But more than the events surrounding that time and that date, what I most remember is my four grandparents sitting together in my backyard with my parents who were just turning 30, discussing the “neat” feature about it being July 7th 1977 or 7777.

    Happiness are things that jog fond memories. Especially when those memories include loved ones who passed long ago. Because just like that the magic of the brain conjures a moment from the past that we can soak in for a few moments and actually feel the happiness around us. For me, happy memories are one of the great Sorcerers of Life, a Sorcerer who visits me every July 7th, which in this case was yesterday.

    Wishing you a happy memory today.

  • If I could live anywhere in the world, it would be in Seattle

    Writing Prompt: If I Could Live Anywhere In The World, Where Would It Be?

    With the exception of two years away in college and part of year lived in Oregon, I’ve lived my entire life — five decades and counting(!) — in Seattle. My parents too have lived their entire lives in Seattle. My mom’s mom? Lived her entire life in Seattle. My other three grandparents? Lived their entire adult lives in Seattle, too. Clearly, Seattle is in my blood and has been for generations. 

    The irony is, although I love Seattle, I also dislike Seattle. 

    I don’t love the over six months per year in drizzly gloom. I don’t love the dysfunction of our city government that has always been true for virtually my entire lifetime. And I wish that Seattle as a whole was more extroverted. 

    Still, five decades later, and despite the ability to arguably live anywhere in the US and maybe a lot of places in the world, I’ve always lived here. I doubt I’ll ever leave unless we relocate to California to be closer to Larissa’s family. 

    Why? 

    Because it’s where my roots are settled and it’s where my family is. Because I’ve learned in life that no matter what we think about our current situation it can always be worse, and all things being considered I’d rather deal with what I know rather than undertake the tremendous hassle of changing cities. But more than that, there must be something about the city I love. 

    I do love that we are close to mountains. And creeks. With bountiful water. And mostly mild temperatures. 

    I love that we are a metropolis with a healthy job market and lots of eating options that mostly don’t include large national restaurant chains. 

    I love that there are libraries and theaters and universities, and public transportation, and no shortage of things to do, all the while being very close to one of my favorite things to do in the world — embark on day hikes. 

    So clearly there is something I love about Seattle that is deep in my soul.

    So, if I could live anywhere in the world where would it be? The answer is obvious. It’s Seattle. Because we are what we do, and I CAN live anywhere and yet here I am. And because wherever we go there we are, and I believe that happiness should come from within and not from exterior forces, so why not try my best to be happy here, where my parents and sister are, where my kids are, where there is so much to like, and where I’m lived most of my life. 

    Maybe that’s the real answer. If I can’t be happy in a city with mountains, forests, salt water, bookstores, libraries, great restaurants, and the people I love, then changing my ZIP code probably isn’t going to solve much. Wherever I go, I’ll still be taking myself with me.

    So if I could live anywhere in the world? I’d choose Seattle. Not because it’s perfect—it certainly isn’t—but because it’s home. And after all these years, I think I’ve finally realized there’s a difference.

    #Seattle #Home #Place #Family #Happiness #Reflection #Life #Pacific Northwest #Identity #Contentment #WritingPrompt #Writing