YOU AIN'T GONNA LEARN WHAT YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW

I Was Robbed

 

“They left the alarm clock.”

 

That was all they left.   I had been robbed of all my material possessions, and all they left was the alarm clock sitting next to my bed.

 

I was not robbed by strangers, but by people I knew.

 

It was 1992.   I was living in San Diego, CA.  

 

 

In the apartment complex I lived in, there were people who came from all over the country.

 

 

 

Seemingly, no one I met was from California, everyone was from somewhere else.

 

 

I went back east for a family trip.  Specifically,  I went back east to go on a cruise with my family. 

 

 

The week we picked to be on the cruise (leaving from Miami) was the same week that Hurricane Andrew hit Florida.

 

 

It was an indicator of what would lie ahead in the coming weeks.

 

 

The cruise with my family was memorable, amazing, and happened to be great family time.    I moved to the west coast the previous year,  and any opportunity to spend time with my family -- was welcomed, and needed.

 

 

When I got back to San Diego, I opened the door to my apartment, after a long flight from Miami. 

 

 

It was not ransacked.   It was not even damaged in the least.

 

Everything was gone.

 

 

Except the alarm clock.

 

 

If you have ever been burglarized, robbed, or had items stolen from you – you know that empty, sick feeling in your stomach – when you realize that your possessions, your materials, and your things -- have been ripped away from you.

 

 

But, this time – I knew who did it.

 

 

I went to my closet.   All my clothes were gone.

 

 

I knew when my clothes were gone from the closet, my basketball sneakers, my socks – I knew right away,  who had done this to me. 

 

 

Some guys in the complex had been using drugs on a pretty regular basis.   When I first arrived in San Diego, I played basketball with them --- but, the longer I knew them – the more I saw of their steady decline.   The three friends were from Philadelphia, and when I first moved in, they were the first guys I met, and hung with. 

 

Until I saw them, go headfirst......  

 

Into, Crystal Meth.  

 

 

It was sad to watch the steady decline.   I went to work every day, and they didn’t.  

 

 

They were wasting away – and after 6 months they had become barely recognizable, from the guys I had originally met, and played basketball with at on the courts at UCSD. 

 

 

All the guys who were using drugs -- knew I was headed back east for a cruise this particular week – BUT BECAUSE I THOUGHT WE WERE COOL, (meaning I thought we had a relationship) ---- I never thought they would steal my stuff. 

 

 

But, they did.

 

And, I learned from it. 

 

 

 

Today, life is different.

 

 

Today, I live on the East Coast –  own and manage a technology business.

 

 

In technology – there are no people on “Crystal Meth waiting to steal your possessions.”

 

 

But, there are people who want to steal.   Steal your ideas, steal your energy – and steal your knowledge.  There are people who, "sit around -- while you are working, looking to steal your stuff." 

 

 

It’s cool, I get it.   I've been told over and over --   “Imitation is the best form of flattery.”

 

It is NOT.  

 

 

Not when I see our User Interface in Chinese lettering from a Chinese Tech Company who blatantly knocked us off.

 

Not when I see the names of our products used by a Chinese Tech Company – who wanted to bring us to China, and brand us over there.   

 

Not when I see companies in the US willfully infringe upon our trademarks.  That we need to go to court to block them from using our images, our trademarked names, and our ideas.   

 

Not when I see companies ask our junior people for sensitive information in order to gain knowledge on our business.

 

Not when I get requests to spend time with executive at companies – in order to make them smarter, when they have no intention of buying, or using our services.

 

All of these are in some form or another, stealing.    Some are legal,  and some are not. 

 

 

And, life (and business) is not fair.   I don’t pretend to play by the rules all the time.   However, I do have ethical boundaries I will not cross.   

 

 

I’m proud to have help build a company with people, who share in the vision of working in a high energy company, with an even higher level of integrity.  

 

 

I invested in a company today that was supposedly ripped off.   I have never ever bought stock in a company because of a reason like this:

 

My friend James Altucher wrote.

 

“Neonode (NEON), a Nasdaq company with a near-monopoly on several touchscreen technologies, developed a pre-iPhone three years before the Apple (AAPL) iPhone and has severely disrupted AAPL's patent case against Samsung. In fact, NEON might now be an acquisition candidate as a result. Additionally, their core business alone, is enough to catapult them to $30 per share.”

 

 

 

But, I know how this feels.   I can understand how the executives at NEON feel about their products, and how they need to defend themselves.  

 

I bought into this company (NEON) because when I read James article on NEON, which can be found HERE, it brought me back to San Diego – and walking back into an empty apartment.

 

 

At least, “They left the alarm clock.”  

 

 

It’s a clock radio that to this day, still sits next to my bed – and it’s old, but trusty and reliable.

 

 

I’ve never made a bet on a company (buying stock) for patent protection, or any defensive reasons.   But, when I read James Altuchers story on the company,  it made me mad, sad – but most of all …….

 

It made me realize how this happens all the time, and most of us chalk it up to ….

 

 

“Ahhh, that’s business……you should have known.”

 

Or….

 

“They were Crystal Meth Heads……you should have known.”

 

 

At least I still have my alarm clock, a few thousands shares of NEON – and my integrity.

 

Those are some things you cant take away from me. 

 

Well, at least you cant take my alarm clock.    :)   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Cant Get In

 

"I cant get in." 

 

I was not going to play the game.  

 

When it came to clubs in NYC, it was not my scene.   I hated it.   

 

But, when it came to Concerts, Irish Pubs, or Sports Bars -- I felt more at home.  

 

And, today it seems as though more and more people, are saying....

 

"I cant get in."   "I cant get INTO...."  

 

"I cant get into the new job"  

'I cant get into the new role" 

"I cant get into this new technology being thrust upon me."

"I cant get into the new world and how fast it is moving" 

"I cant get into this new relationship" 

"I cant get into whats expected of me"

"I cant get into it"  (whatever IT is) 

 

We all have excuses.   Lord knows, I have plenty.

 

But, I've tried to come up with the biggest ones (excuses) that I have given for something -- and come up with a clear reason, on why it should not be an excuse.

 

"I dont have enough time"

"I hate traveling too much"

"I dont like that part of my role" 

 

Recently, I've realized I need to change my behavior.   I need to change my actions, and I need to evolve my strategy. 

 

My realization stems from a few key learnings. 

 

First, I am working in an environment that is fast paced, and changing on a weekly basis.   (like many of you)

 

Second, I've got expectations of myself (goals) that are extremely aggressive.   I consistently push my goals upon others around me -- and that might not be fair, but it is the way it is. 

 

Third, I've been lousy at prioritizing some really important features in my life. 

 

All of this, ALL OF IT -- relates back to: 

 

"I cant get in" 

 

"Coach, please put me in -- I know I can do it." 

 

My right shoulder was seperated, it was hanging out of the socket, but it was a huge football game --- and I was playing safety for my team.   I knew my replacement could not cover the ground I could. 

 

I wanted to get back in the game at all costs.   

 

I realized at that moment, just how much it meant to me -- to be back in the game, on the field, in the huddle -- helping my team.    I took it for granted that I was healthy and playing -- until I was hurt, and doubled over in agony, with the trainer removing my shoulder pads, so he could see my injured arm.  

 

You can never underestimate the hurt or anguish you feel when you are on the sidelines, watching the action -- while your team is on the field -- and needs you. 

 

My shoulder was killing me.   It was throbbing.   I somehow got my pads back on, and walked to stand next to the Coach, one foot away. 

 

My persistence paid off  -- and the Coach put me back in. 

 

I ran into the huddle with my arm held tight to my stomach, I was back in.   My pain was enormous, but I needed the adrenaline of the huddle, and the action.  

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my 75 year old Grandfather make a mad dash from the bleachers --- right to the fence, on the sidelines of my team.  

 

"Coach, are you nuts?  Get Andy out of the game."    He was yelling, pacing -- and mad. 

 

My grandfather NEVER got mad, and he was steaming. 

 

I came out of the game.   My season ended with a dislocated shoulder, that to this day, hurts me from time to time. 

 

We are all in the game.  From time to time we are on the sideline watching the action -- but, for each of us -- we are all "in the action" in some very important aspects of our lives. 

 

Working. 

Raising kids. 

Mentoring. 

Leading by example. 

 

The question is, are you playing the right game?   Are your priorities where they should be, and is your time and focus, on the correct key areas? 

 

Mine have not been, I admit it.   It's tough to say, but I haven't been aware enough, nimble enough -- or mostly, smart enough, to change course on key performance drivers in my life.  

 

Our business is growing leaps and bounds, and yet I drive myself and our team harder than ever.   Explosive growth, is only compunded by, lofty expectations.   

 

A smart man once said to me, "Pioneers get slaughtered, while settlers flourish." 

 

I've spent most of my career in between the two.   (Pioneer and Settler) -- and a key priority for me is to move quickly towards being a settler, with my business - and my focus -- while building the tools for a pioneer. 

 

"I cant get in." 

 

I realized I could not get in, get into anything -- until I knew what I wanted to get into, and more importantly --  what I really wanted to get out of. 

 

I wanted to get into the game. 

 

The real question I've come to ask is not what I should be getting "into" -- but, rather.....

 

"What should I be GETTING OUT OF?" 

 

One by one piece by piece, I'm shedding the aspects of my life that I need to get out of.   It started today, and it will continue.

 

Restructuring relationships. 

Contracts. 

Deals. 

Expectations

 

The excercise of "cant get IN" -- evolved into,  "getting out." 

 

Analyzing and acting up what we should shed, alter, or change for our benefit  -- is truly the ultimate act of, getting in.   

 

Taking action.  Literally. 

 

Will get you in.   It did for me.   

 

I had to come out of the football game to heal, and appreciate being healthy.  It took coming OUT, to appreciate  --- BEING IN. 

 

"I CANT GET IN." 

 

Yes, I can.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Best Show I Ever Saw

 

"That was the best show I ever saw." 

 

I went to Houston, TX for Sales Training.   It was July, and it was the hottest temperature I had ever experienced.   It was 112 degrees, and super sunny.   The sun, and the heat, made for extremely uncomfortable conditions.

 

We arrived at the training center, and Alvin O'Neal would be the person to train the 30 person class.

 

Alvin was a portly man, in his late 50's, and a grey beard and mustache.   He did not fit the profile of your classic, sales trainer.   In my head, I thought -- "I have to spend two days here listening to this guy?" 

 

I turned out to be wrong.   

 

He opened up with a story.

********

A elderly couple came from Nebraska to NYC for the first time, to celebrate their 50th annniversary.   Being overwhelmed by New York for a few days was an understatement.   The wife always wanted to see the Broadway play, "Cats."   She memorized the music for many years, and had always dreamed of one day seeing the play live.   

During the matinee performance the husband looks over at this wife, and sees tears streaming down her face.  He cannot believe that she is crying -- and he begins to get emotional, seeing that this performance has brought out so much emotion in his wife of 50 years.   

At the end of the play, she sits in her seat as everyone leaves the theater.  She sits, just soaking in the good energy, and not wanting to leave --- as she is experiencing true inner bliss.   She stares at the stage, letting the waves of positive energy, wash over her.   

As they leave the theater, the usher at the door says: 

"Did you have a good time?" 

The lady replied -- "We are from Nebraska, and this was the most wonderful experience of my entire life."  

She continued, "It was the best show I ever saw." 

The usher, clearly excited to hear this, says:  "Then, I'm sure you will be even more excited to know -- this was the 7000th (seven thousand) performance of this play, in this theater." 

And, as the elderly coupled walked hand in hand out of the theater into the "matinee daylight" -- the story ended. 

**********************

 

But, for me -- it really started.  

 

Do you think that the elderly couple knew that this was the 7000th performance of the play they were witnessing, as they were sitting in their seats, while tears were streaming down the woman's face?  

 

Do you think she cared?

 

Did she care about the previous 6999 other shows put on, on the same exact stage, with many of the same cast? 

 

No. 

 

The job of the broadway actor is to make you feel like --  this day, this time, and this particular show is the first time, the only time, that the actors are doing it  -- and, most importantly -- they are doing it, just for YOU.  

 

They do it every day.  Sometimes, twice a day.   Ten shows a week.   

 

It's the actors and actresses job to bring the energy, bring the focus -- and bring the message to each and every performance.....because in each and every crowd, EVERYONE IS THE.....

 

"Elderly couple from Nebraska, seeing the show for the first time." 

 

Sometimes we forget this in our complicated lives.  With each new encounter in our lives, with each new connection -- this is a...

 

New Performance. 

 

A new matinee, with a different audience.  A chance to bring new energy, and change our destiny. 

 

I've been called passionate, and energetic.   It's a badge I wear proudly.  

 

That story that I heard that day in Houston had a big impact on my future.   It made me realize that every new business opportunity, every interview, every interaction with a prospect -- every single one, is a new performance, with a new audience that has not seen the play, they have not seen, me.   

 

My new connections may not be elderly, and they may not be from Nebraska, but......they are meeting me, seeing my energy, feeling my focus, and sensing that I believe in my product --- for the first time. 

 

Tears may not flow from them.   Standing ovations may not happen at the conclusion of the meeting ..... but, something better happens. 

 

I'm exhausted from continuously pouring my heart out, and genuinely embracing each new encounter with positive energy.   I'm also results driven, and in some cases -- the honesty of an interaction will win a deal.

 

Last week, I heard from a major client the following: 

 

"Andy, we went with Lotame because, from the first time we met you and the team it was clear that the technology was superior -- but the people who work with you had energy and passion, and most importantly a dedication that far surpassed that of your competition.   You can sense when a company (and a leader has a clear sense of purpose) and a mission.....we have been validated in our decision to choose you." 

 

It was music to my ears.  It was the broadway orchestra, playing Cats in my head. 

 

We are all on the stage of life, and on our own journey in this matinee. 

 

Pretend each new encounter, each new meeting, each new person is your audience -- and you are the actor. 

 

Your new audience (or encounter) does not care about your previous 15,993 performances you may have put on for others.   In my case, 15,993 represents my total number of days alive.   I consider these previous 15,993 to be past performances of my play, and each day brings a new matinee. 

 

No matter how many performances you have in the past, (or days alive) it is important to remember to try to impress the elderly couple from Nebraska, every single day -- with all your good energy. 

 

You might not win a Tony Award, but you be will getting a standing ovation. 

 

From yourself. 

 

***********************

 

2 notes:

1) Alvin -- I never thanked you.  I hope this note is a small repayment of the wisdom you gave to me, from those sultry few days in Houston in 1995.  

2) The calculator where you can see your past performances/days you have been alive is located here

Please Let Me Walk.

 

"Beware of this guy, something ain't right about him." 

 

We were walking up the Fairway at hole #4.   I was walking next to him when he uttered those words to me.   My opponent was walking ahead of me.   

 

More often than not, his words have meaning.    You have to search for the kernel of truth in between the volume of words -- but often times the sentences, carry weight.  

 

It was a Thursday morning in July.    About 8am.   I invited a big client of mine to a club I belong to.    The golf game was planned as a way for us to have a working session.   Golf was second.   Developing our relationship was primary.   

 

As far as I am concerned, riding in a golf cart is not consistent with playing golf.   Walking a course, feeling the terrain, and enjoying a course, is as important as playing the course itself.   Comfortable golf shoes are a must.   

 

I'd rather do something else (and not play) if I have to ride in a golf cart.   

 

I've been blessed enough to enjoy the company of Caddie's the last few years of my golfing life.  The cast of characters that make up my interactions with Caddie's is long, the stories of each Caddie's life is both, endless and interesting -- but their wisdom is often, FAR GREATER THAN THEIR OCCUPATION. 

 

Anyone who is a good Caddie, not only understands golf -- they understand life. 

 

I learned that on this particular morning in July. 

 

"Beware of this guy, something ain't right about him." 

 

I stopped.   We were only on the 4th hole, yet his words stung me like a knife to my heart. 

 

My response came swift and harsh, "What do you mean by that?   The guy is a client, and if you want to Caddy for me on work events like this -- do me a favor, keep your opinions to yourself.   The guy is a stand up dude, and you could not be more wrong." 

 

He mumbled, "Ok, sorry - I wont bring it up again." 

 

And then, I started noticing things that I had missed on the first 3 holes of our match. 

 

The clients scoring was off.   He scored a 6 on the next hole -- and he told the Caddy who was keeping the score, that he got a 5.   

 

He did not replace his divots on the green.   He would hit a shot onto the green, and then walk casually by the hole in the ground -- (and damage to the course) as he marked his putt.   He never said "Thank You" to the Caddie as he was handed his putter.  

 

He moved a ball slightly to give it a better position in the rough, when he thought I was not looking.  

 

He was rude and condescending to the Caddy who was walking with us.   My steady partner who I spend many hours with nearly every weekend -- he was rude to someone who was carrying his bag, and mine.    He was my guest, and I was embarrassed.   

 

If you are rude to a waiter, a Caddie or anyone who is working -- and I see it happening --- it is virtually a guarantee that I won't be around you again, EVER. 

 

I'm allergic to rude people.  I get sick when a person I am associated with mistreats, or "brushes off" those who are working for them  -- in any capacity.  

 

My kids know every worker at our club.  I know more workers in the kitchen, the wait staff, the Caddies -- than I DO MEMBERS.   It's the way I was raised.   It's how I want my kids to treat others.   Respect and acknowledge everyone.   Look them in the eye.  Say, "Thank you." 

 

Respect. 

 

My client showed none of it that day, and I was sick to my stomach when I thought about it.   I played out the rest of the match, and never said a word to the Caddie about it.......until yesterday. 

 

As we got ready at 7am, I pulled him aside. 

 

"You were right." 

 

He said with a smile, "I'm right about everything, but what specifically was I right about?" 

 

Remember that client that you said to me, ""Beware of this guy, something ain't right about him?"  

 

"Do I remember him, that guy was the in the hall of fame of rude."  

 

He proceeded to teach me something I did not know. 

 

"Andy, play a round of golf with anyone.   In those 4 hours, I will tell you all that you need to know, all the truth, all the pain, and mostly -- the true ingredients that make up the person.   Golf is a true gentleman's game, and that is really what makes it special -- you get to see so much more than a swing.   You get to see who is a gentleman, and who is not.   Your client was not." 

 

The client is no longer a client.   As soon as a problem came up, instead of me fighting for his business, and SELLING MYSELF to keep him onboard -- I cut bait, and let him take his business to a competitor.    

 

The Caddie is still my Caddie.   He is a funny, great, and true gentleman through and through. 

 

I learn more from my Caddies, (who dont have MBA's, College Education's, or big titles) -- than I learn from some of my peers, and some colleagues. 

 

"Don't play golf if you do not want the truth."   

 

I want the truth.    

 

I don't care where it comes from.   

 

But, when it comes from the golf course, and some amazing Caddies who teach me about life --  even better.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sunroof

 

 

“Can I see those picture for a minute?”

 

 

It was 1985.   I was spending the summer in San Francisco, and my best friend, Kenny Smith,  came to visit – and spend 10 days hanging with me in SF.   I was going to take the week off from my internship.   

 

 

A guy who I knew, and met in the summer of 85’ had recently been married.   His name was Steve.   Steve grew up in Palo Alto, and was a professional/native Northern Californian.   

 

 

Steve was a 30 year old, outgoing, fun, athletic – handsome dude.   I worked at an internship in San Francisco – and I met him because his wife worked on the same project I did.   His wife’s name was Faye.

 

 

After work, many of us would go out for a beer.   I was only 18 years old --  and I had a fake ID, that allowed me free license to hang out with my co-workers.   Steve worked nearby, so he met up with his wife – and I was there.    A conversation with him ensued, and this is what I said:  

 

 

“My friend Kenny from NJ is coming to visit this week, I’m psyched to hang out with him – and show him the city of SF.”

 

 

Steve responded,  “Listen to me.   I will ask Faye to give me a free pass – do you want me to take you and your friend Kenny to the greatest, fun, and most amazing spot in all of California?” 

 

 

I replied, “Yes, of course.” 

 

He proceeded, “Lets go to Santa Cruz for the weekend.” 

 

 

Sounded like fun to me.   I had never been to Santa Cruz – and Steve (who was married to Faye for less than a year) got a weekend reprieve to spend the weekend with two 18 year olds.

 

 

Kenny and I got in his car.   It was a brand spankin’ new black BMW with a really cool sunroof.

 

 

We left San Francisco, and drove to Santa Cruz.   A beautiful, scenic drive.  

 

 

When we got there, we checked into a hotel.

 

 

We drank a little, and at a bar we met 3 young ladies.   We had a great time.   Each of us at some point in the night went our own way.   

 

 

I will leave it at that.  After all, Steve was married.   But, he met a nice young lady that he spent some time with that evening.   

 

 

Pictures were taken.   Booth pictures, and polaroids.   Pictures of the young ladies we met that evening, at the bar – at an awesome rollercoaster in Santa Cruz – pictures of us enjoying the nightlife.    

 

 

Kenny and I were 18 years old, and this was primetime for us.   Steve was older, but he was having a blast.

 

 

We all had a great time.  

 

 

On the car ride home we were all talking about the weekend.

 

 

In my hand I had the pictures of the weekend.    I was super proud to save these photos to preserve the memories of a great weekend with my friend, and some fun times with the young ladies we met.

 

 

During the car ride, Steve says to me – “Can I see those picture for a minute?”

 

 

I handed him the 5 pictures.   5 pictures that I was proud of.   5 pictures I wanted to save.  

 

 

As I handed it to him, I watched in slow motion – as Steve’s hand went to the sunroof --- and the pictures that I SO WANTED TO SAVE – were released by him onto Highway 101.   The pictures were gone.

 

 

And, so was any evidence of the weekend.   Any evidence of Steve being in Santa Cruz was gone. 

 

 

It was smart.    Steve was married, and he was with two 18 year olds for the weekend – those pictures could only have hurt Steve down the road.

 

 

I lost touch with Steve and his wife Faye.

 

 

But, I never ever forgot his hand releasing those pictures.   Once those pictures dissapeared -- so did the weekend.   

 

 

As I compare and contrast the story of Steve taking those photos and releasing them through the sunroof – I cant help but think about how in today’s world – you cant erase.   You cant reach your hand through a sunroof anymore, and lose a weekend.   

 

 

You can’t erase words in an email.

 

 

You can’t erase comments you make on the web.

 

 

You can’t erase posts.

 

You cant erase pictures posted. 

 

 

 

This is important to note for a few reasons.  

 

 

The digital footprints we produce, are leaving us VERY vulnerable to history.   

 

 

7000 years ago, the Pharaohs’ built huge pyramids.

 

 

Inside of these temples , the people of the day housed treasures that were considered the most expensive pieces of jewelry, art, and items of the day.

 

They were protected.    7000 years ago they were protected with the most state of the art, complex, amazing – and foolproof mechanisms to protect the outside world from gaining access to the treasures, the bodies – and the temples inside.

 

 

Today, they are visited by tourist. (Strangers to the Egyptians) Camera toting tourists that go to Alexandria – and go into the most sacred ground, they stroll into the places that Egyptians thought could never be penetrated.   Safe and impenetrable.  Locked away.   

 

 

And, they were impenetrable.   For a few years.   

 

But, access was gained to them many years later.  

 

 And, so will your inbox.   

 

 

Imagine 100 years from now –  as the next technology takes off, this thing we today describe as digital media, is considered “old school.”

 

 

All the email data – ALL OF YOUR INBOX CAN BE ACCESSED.   ALL THE EMAILS YOU THOUGHT YOU DELETED.   ITS ALL SAVED.   

 

All the pictures.   All of your comments on Facebook.

 

 

Your information, and email inbox will be shared and discussed, like tourists do today in the hallowed ground of a pyramid once thought to be private and protected.

 

But, it won’t happen 7000 years later like the the pyramids.  

 

It will be in less than 100 years that this data of today will be shared.  

 

And, it wont be strangers.   It will not be tourists.   

 

 

It will be our great grandchildren.   They will have a digital tablet (think a book) to read about you, me, and anyone they want.

 

It will contain any and all things you have typed, produced, or shared.

 

 

That will be our legacy.  

 

Wont be 7000 years later, nor will it be a stranger.     

 

It will be your family.  Your relatives.    

 

 

Think about today's version of a book club -- where people gather round to discuss an authors book, and debate from their perspective, what the author's intent, message, and how each reader translated the words the author typed. 

 

"What was the meaning of the book?" 

 

I can only imagine, the book club's 100 years from now will be an analysis of each of our writings, our thoughts, our challenges.   OUR RELATIVES IN THE FUTURE WILL HAVE "BOOK CLUB TYPE MEETINGS" TO DISCUSS, AND READ ABOUT OUR INTENT, OUR MESSAGE, AND OUR REACTIONS TO WHAT WE TYPED INTO EMAIL, back in 2012.

 

They will say --- 

 

"What was the meaning of his/her life from all these emails?"   

 

A digital tablet of your online life.   This will be our legacy.   

 

Crazy. 

 

 

Steve was right to let those pictures go through the sunroof.  

 

I could use a ride on that rollercoaster in Santa Cruz right about now.  

 

 

 

 

 

Mutually Assured Destruction

 

When I was in grade school, I was constantly drawing pictures.    

 

I probably had a version of ADD, (attention deficit disorder) -  coupled with a good dose of hyperactivity. 

 

Then, like now -- I have (and had) a difficult time focusing on things that dont stimulate me, keep me engaged, and stir my creative side.   I can sit in a meeting, in an interview -- or in the classroom -- and appear totally engaged, but I'm really zoned out.    It happened alot while I was in school.   In fact, it was probably represented (zoning out) the majority of my educational experience.   

 

But, for some reason in school - I loved history.   No other subject stimulated my interest the same way that Social Studies, and History did.    I also really loved anything that had to do with, Current Events.    At 8 years old, I was reading the newspaper every day after school.   Cover to cover.   

 

I doodled every day.   I would sit in class and draw intricate, creative -- and wild pictures.  

 

Recently, I saw the pictures that my daughters are drawing.   I saw their artwork -- and their creative side.   I was amazed, and in awe.  

 

It WAS VERY DIFFERENT from what I was drawing at their age. 

 

At 10 years old, I was constantly making pictures of the following scenario. 

 

On one side of the page was the USA and the other was the USSR. 

 

Huge guns, laser beams, and major artillery weapons were pointed at each other, and the name "USA" and "USSR" was highlighted on each side of the paper. 

 

I probably made hundreds of these types of drawings throughout elementary, and junior high school. 

 

It looked something like this.   (This one took me 30 seconds, but the pictures I drew from back in the 1970's, in the 5th grade could take hours, and it was colorful with people, and differing machinery) 

 

Growing up in the era I did -- the USA/USSR nuclear option was always talked about.  Star Wars, Mutally Assured Destruction, Nuclear Warheads throughout Europe -- had me fixated on the prospect of war. 

 

I'm pretty sure that many kids my age (and older) acted out their fears, concerns, and displaced "seeking to understand" the fear they had, that --  an all out war was imminent, and frightfully real.   A violent death from war was always looming if we did not beat our enemy, the GREAT SATAN.  The Soviet Union.  

 

I know for me -- it came out in the art. 

 

For many kids, it came out in different ways.   

 

Today, our children display art of a very different nature.   

 

More importantly, I've come to understand that we need to pay more attention to the art that our children produce.   Through their art classes, and their creative lense (whether it be fingerpainting or doodling) -- this provides the clearest, and most direct feedback of what is truly going on in the world. 

 

Walk through any school, and notice what is hanging on the wall. 

 

Ask a child, "what is your biggest fear outside of our house?"   

 

As a business owner, I get asked all the time, "what keeps you up at night?"   (I've written about it) 

 

I typically respond, "War with the USSR."     It's funny to see the response I get from that.    

 

Truth is, it evolves.   It evolves with history, conflict -- and it all comes out through the eyes of our children.   

 

But, I dare you to ask your kids.   I think you will be fascinated. 

 

I was.