We’re At the End, Or the Beginning

Although we are a week away from Christmas, and most of us are consumed with shopping, planning meals, parties, and other such Christmas fare, we are also two weeks from the end of the year.

The start of the new year always brings promise. The promise to start a new diet and lose weight, the promise to go to the gym, the promise to take that class or learn that skill we’ve been procrastinating.

But it’s at this time of year that we also look back and take stock of how far we have (or have not) come. In most cases, an honest assessment brings a reminder that we probably haven’t kept many of the promises that we made to start 2021. Studies show that few new promises or habits last much past the end of January.

We all have reasons (excuses) for why we didn’t accomplish those goals we set a year ago. “Life happens” seems to be a common theme. “I was busy with work” or lately, “the pandemic” seem to be equally popular excuses.

So we set our goals and make promises to ourselves, we usually fail, and at the end of the year we make excuses.

I would bet many of us would cite this cycle as an annual rite of passage. Something we mindlessly do (or perhaps halfheartedly do) as an annual ritual.

Fueling this silliness are all the folks who make money off our wishful thinking. The fitness business lives off of January, hooking people into memberships, training courses, and all kinds of other optimistic possibilities that help fuel peoples’ fantasies.

Of course the self help folks also profit nicely this time of year. Who doesn’t want to be a better person in 2022? What lonely single person doesn’t want 2022 to be the year they are swept off their feet by that special someone with whom they will live happily ever after!

This isn’t a rant about New Year’s resolutions. Deep down I think we all know the reality. I’ve made and broken countless resolutions.

I think I’ve learned to tune out people telling me about their resolutions, and worst, I’ve tuned myself out from my own attempt to start something new.

But that doesn’t mean that we can’t try or learn new things. That doesn’t mean we can’t lose weight or get in better shape.

If we’re being honest, humans can be quite amazing when they want to be! Lots of people want to lose weight, and they do. Lots of people want to learn a new skill, switch jobs, or find the love of their life, and they do!

The people who fail are probably the majority, but it’s not fair to only focus on them. There are lots of success stories. There are lots of people who “resolve” to do things at other times of the year besides January 1.

Negativity gets a lot of attention, and attention makes people money .

But there’s no reason we can’t celebrate the good. Why not celebrate the people who make it? Why not celebrate ourselves even when we do fail? At least we tried!

Not much good comes from getting down on ourselves, and none comes from beating ourselves up endlessly.

Failing is human. I recently saw a video produced by SpaceX showing their numerous rocket failures, all of which led to (eventually) successful landings. Big spectacular failures resulted in success, success that would not have been possible without all those failure.

If you are taking time to reflect about the year 2021 was, it’s perfectly fine to note what went wrong, or what didn’t turn out as planned.

But it’s not ok to focus on the bad exclusively. What about the good? What went well? And probably most important, what can you learn from the things that didn’t work out?

Don’t be romanced by the year ending notion that things are always bad if they don’t work out. Why didn’t you go to the gym? Why didn’t you finish that course you started? Why didn’t you learn that new skill that was so important a year ago?

Answer those questions, learn from them, and move on. No need to dwell on the past or ruminate on our failures.

Live, learn, move on.

16 Years Ago Today

16 years ago today, very early in the morning, we headed to the hospital for the birth of our third child.

It would be our third child born by c-section, so we were pretty familiar with what we were in for. I have to admit, while I was very excited to meet the newest member of our family, there was a part of me that was a little apprehensive.

Our first two children were girls, and (according to our doctor), the chances of having a boy after two girls weren’t great.

Being the older brother to three sisters, I’m very familiar with having a house full of women and while I certainly wasn’t dreading the idea of being the only man in a house of four women, I was secretly hoping for a boy, despite the unfavorable odds.

Since we chose not to find out the sex of our kids before they were born, there was a good amount of anticipation on my part as we went through all the steps leading up to the surgery.

At one point the doctor and I were “scrubbing up’ and she was joking with me about having another girl. As I recall the last thing she said was “well, there’s always a chance you might get a boy” and the she chuckled and walked away.

Thankfully things went well, and when our little one finally appeared the doctor invited me to stand up and peek over the screen as she declared “it’s a boy!”

I hate to say I actually started laughing! I believe I said something to the effect of “good one doc,” thoroughly convinced she was continuing to have fun at my expense.

But sure enough, as I looked closer, it was a boy!

I almost fell over! All the joking, all the thoughts of a life filled with Disney princesses, dresses, and boyfriends and somehow I had a son!

What a crazy morning! I don’t think the reality of the situation settled in until later that night when I want home to be with the girls. Suddenly my future was filled with Disney princesses AND football!

I’ve never stopped counting my blessings since the day my first daughter was born 20 years ago. I am beyond grateful that I have three happy, healthy and good humans to call my kids.

I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have had a third girl. Of course I would have loved her and cherished her, but in all honestly, having a son has turned out to be a wonderful journey.

“But”

The Cambridge dictionary says the word ‘but’ is used to connect ideas that contrast.

In recent year’s I’ve noticed that the word ‘but’ is also used to politely, or perhaps passive aggressively hurt someone or to give unwelcomed advice.

• “It’s none of my business, but………”
• “I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but……”
• “He’s such a great dad, but………”
• “I appreciate you cleaning the house, but….”

I would challenge you to start any of those sentences and end them with anything good or positive or kind. Whatever follows the ‘but’ in those cases is going to bad 100% of the time.

During the course of an abusive marriage, I noticed my partner using the word ‘but’ frequently and it quickly became a trigger for me. Whenever I hear the word ‘but’ the next thing that enters my mind is “oh great, here it comes”.

And usually it does.

While there are harmless uses of the word ‘but’ I’ve noticed that in most cases the use is anything but (there you go) harmless.

I’m not sure what causes people to feel justified in using the word ‘but’ to say something nice, then something unkind or unwanted. I imagine there’s some psychological reason for it, or maybe some people are just jerks!

Ultimately I’m grateful for my heightened awareness of the word ‘but’ as it has helped me see through people and situations. When I hear it the tenor of the conversation changes and I become much more skeptical about the person and the situation.

6 Degrees of Separation

My first appointment this morning was a routine refinance with a really nice couple at their home on Seneca Lake.

They were friendly and we chatted about various things throughout the signing. I don’t remember exactly how the conversation wound its way to the wife mentioning that she was born in Oklahoma, but she did.

Which was weird, because I was also born in Oklahoma. When I said “believe it or not, I was born in Oklahoma” she replied with “oh really, where?”

I told her I was born in Altus Oklahoma, on the Air Force base. (Side note – I’m note really sure I was born on the base, but my dad was stationed there, so I was born somewhere in Altus.)

To that she replied “I was born and raised in Altus!”

I was shocked! Seneca Lake is a long way from Altus Oklahoma, and we were just random strangers brought together by a mortgage refinance signing.

To make matters ever more surprising, the husband mentioned that he was stationed at the base in Altus (a few years before I was born). He was one of the brave people in the missile silo’s during he Cuban missile crisis.

What a small world!

We spent some time after this discovery talking about Altus. My dad moved on from Altus when I was a baby, and I therefore have no recollection of the place, but this nice couple gave me the quick story of Altus and what it was like to grow up and live there.

It was a remarkable experience and I found myself wishing I could have stayed longer and learned more about my birthplace.

Throughout the day I’ve been caught up thinking about the randomness of this morning, and the odds of meeting two people with whom I share such a connection.

I’m grateful for the brief time I spend with those folks this morning, and grateful to learn a little bit about my past. I hope to someday visit Altus and to explore my birthplace a little.

Courage Is Calling – My First Book Review

I’m not sure if I’ve ever done a book review online, so this may be my first one. I don’t usually feel compelled to write a review (although I have done so online when asked), but in this case, I was pleasantly surprised by what I read and felt it might be helpful to share my thoughts in hopes someone may find them helpful.

Courage is Calling, the newest book from Ryan Holiday, turned out to be a pleasant surprise. I’ve read Mr Holiday’s other books and enjoyed them very much, especially Ego is the Enemy. I find his writing style easy to follow, and his methods for imparting the wisdom of the stoics to be very digestible.

To be honest, I wasn’t really very excited about this newest book. Courage is a word that seems to get thrown around and abused quite a bit nowadays, but I decided to take a chance. I’m glad I did.

The subtitle of the book is “Fortune Favors the Brave”. As I wound my way through the pages I realized that Mr Holiday’s message was fairly simple, yet it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Courage is a choice.

Mr. Holiday cites several examples of historic figures from the stoics up to Martin Luther King Jr who have been faced with the opportunity to shrink, to run, to hide, but they chose to stand tall and push ahead despite the potential consequences.

With the benefit of hindsight, we know that many times things worked out for people, but Mr. Holiday makes it clear that in the moment, there was no such certainty, yet the figures he mentioned chose to press on.

Often times the figures in the book faced great opposition from family, friends, and society, but something inside them drove them to make their own choice, to follow their own path, and to reap the rewards or consequences therein.

I’m grateful to Mr. Holiday for writing this book and highlighting the possibility that courage is a choice. While reflecting on the book, I realized that I often think of courage as something we are born with, or without. But I realize now that it’s not that simple.

The figures in the book all made a choice. They started into the dark, into opposition, into uncertainty, and still decided to act. They were brave enough to follow their heart.

It’s made me rethink many things in my own life. Situations I encounter where I shrink and “play small”. I let someone else’s opposition or my own fears keep me from acting. I take the easy way out. I lack courage in those moments.

Tomorrow I will confront someone who has considerable ill will toward me. They wish to harm me. I have tried for more than a year to appease this person, taking the high road, and absorbing their insults and accusations.

I told myself I was taking the high road. But I wasn’t. I was afraid. Afraid of them. Afraid of what they are willing to do to me.

But I have been foolish. I have done my homework. There is precious little this person can do to me. Their threats have been hot air, bluffs, and stall tactics.

It will come to a head tomorrow night. I will confront this person and although I will listen and be polite and respectful, after reading Courage is Calling I’ve decided that I will not yield. I have to summon the courage to stand up and confront my abuser.

Tomorrow night I have a choice. I am not a victim or a helpless pawn. I can stand up for myself, and more importantly for what’s right. Courage is Calling has helped me reframe this situation, and many others.

I hate to boil 278 pages down to a few simple sentences, but frankly what I took from this book is that courage is a choice and once we view it as a choice, we begin to unlock all the things that go with the choices we can make.

Money Can Buy Happiness

Winter is close at hand, but the flowers I planted in the spring in front of my house still have a few pretty yellow blooms on them.

I spent considerable time last winter trying to plan some upgrades to my landscaping. I wanted lots of color, lots of variety, and something that I could be proud of when I pulled in the driveway.

I have to put it out there that I can barely dress myself (some might say that I can’t!). While I can appreciate fine design and I recognize when things look good together, I find it impossible to understand how they get that way.

I may have a little bit of a music gene, I have absolutely no design or decorating gene.

So I spent the winter pouring over books and online guides about what goes where, how they all go together, and how to make things look good.

None of it worked. By spring I was no closer to a plan than I was when I cracked open my first landscape design book the previous winter.

I was frustrated. My landscaping was a source of frustration, and (in my opinion) an eyesore.

Then one Saturday early in the spring I went to the public market downtown. It was a cold, sunny morning and the market was packed.

As I wandered around taking it all in, one vendor caught my eye. She had all kinds of plants laid out, all different colors, sizes and shapes and suddenly it hit me! I don’t need a plan! I don’t need to keep overthinking this situation. I just need to grab a bunch of these plants and put them in the ground!

So I did. I spent every penny of the $20 I had in my pocket and ran home excited to put my haul into the ground.

At home, I put my anxiety aside, grabbed a trowel, and started planting. My only rule was not to put two plants of the same color next to each other.

Before I knew it, I was done! $20, and 20 minutes had erased months of searching, pondering, planning, and worrying.

Best of all, when I stepped back and looked at what I had done, I was very happy. My heart felt warm, the colors brought more happiness than I would have thought possible.

And throughout the summer, every time I passed the front of the house, I got to look at all those colors. I watched the little plants grow into big plants with more flowers and more colors.

I worked very hard this past summer, many long days, many miles driven, and quite a bit of time away from home. But every single time I pulled in the driveway and saw those colorful flowers, I felt better. I felt happy. I felt at peace in that moment. They seemed to be a beacon reminding me that I was home and everything is ok.

So money can buy happiness. In this case, a measly $20 bill, and it was happiness that repeated itself over and over again during the past 6 months.

Winter is close, so today I’ll be pulling out the flowers and cleaning things up to prepare, but I’m already looking forward to the spring when I can return to the public market with $20 and buy some more happiness.

The Richest Guy I’ve Met So Far

To be fair, I don’t rub elbows with too many rich folks. I know lots of people who live a good life, who have the things they want while living a comfortable life, but I don’t know many people who I would consider to be rich.

Since leaving corporate America to get into real estate and loan signing, I’ve had the opportunity to meet and (briefly) get to know a few folks who I would consider to be rich.

I’ve visited million dollar homes and completed documents for people buying or selling million dollar properties. I’ve met owners of corporations and other folks who certainly live “the good life”.

I’ve gone to closings and parked my crappy little Jeep next to Porsche’s and Ferrari’s and Corvette’s.

Most of the people I’ve met at those places have seemed nice. They are usually friendly and interesting to talk with and I’ve had some very interesting conversations with a few folks nice enough to engage with me.

Sometimes I leave those appointments envious, or even speechless. For someone struggling to grow a business after a lifetime in corporate America, such wealth is hard to fathom.

But a couple weeks ago, on a random sunny Friday afternoon I met the richest guy I’ve ever met.

He and his wife live in a very modest home in a nice suburban neighborhood, they had a regular Toyota sedan sitting in the driveway.

No fleet of super cars, no groundkeepers, no pictures of their personal jet or yacht.

When I met these folks, it was to have them sign a few simple sale documents related to the sale of their home in another state. Upon entering their home, the wife greeted me and said “we need to conduct the signing in the bedroom, my husband has terminal cancer”.

Quite caught off guard, she ushered me into the back bedroom where her husband was propped up in bed watching TV.

He was very friendly and warm and although his body was apparently failing him, his mind was obviously sharp. We chatted a little, he reviewed the documents and asked a few questions.

So why was this the richest man I’ve ever met? He had terminal cancer. By modern standards, he was too young to die, and I’m guessing his impending death was not going to be pleasant.

He was living his final days in a very modest home, apparently confined to a smallish room with a TV.

While he was reviewing the documents and signing each one, I noticed his wife out of the corner of my eye.

At one point she started rubbing his feet, gently massaging the tops of them (apparently he was having issues with his legs).

A couple times she walked over near his head and they would review something together, then she would return to the foot of the bed where she would again touch his feet.

The feeling of love in the room was overwhelming. The way she looked at him. The way she lovingly caressed his feet. The gentle way she spoke to him

Whatever he did during his years with his wife to earn that kind of love must have been something special.

To be loved by someone with such care, such intensity, and such devotion. That’s why he’s the richest person I’ve ever met.

I don’t know if he owned a jet or a huge house. I don’t know the size of his bank account.

But I do know that in the days leading to his death, someone is there loving him with all her heart.

He is the richest man I’ve ever met, and I’m forever grateful to have witnessed the purest form of love imaginable.

We should all be so lucky as to be loved like that.

An Unexpected Twist

While real estate and loan signings keep me plenty busy, I also drive for Uber and Lyft when time permits. Lately there has been a surge of demand, and a shortage of drivers and driving has been unusually profitable.

I’ve meet plenty of interesting people and had countless interesting conversations during my time driving, but tonight I experienced something new and unexpected.

My last ride for the night happened to be a nice young woman who was experiencing extreme pain in her leg. When I pulled up to her house I noticed she was hobbling on one foot, obviously in a great deal of pain.

Our trip included a stop at her mother’s house to drop off her young son on the way to the emergency room. Her young son kept asking her questions about her foot, showing great concern for her comfort and well being.

As we drove it was clear how much pain she was in, at one point she was brought to tears. At one point I struck up a conversation with her hoping to distract her from the pain. It worked, a little (I think).

I drove as quickly (and smoothly) as possible and soon we reached the emergency room. I ran in and found her a wheel chair and the security guard and I got her into the building.

I wished her luck and left.

My rider didn’t have a car, and taking a bus to the emergency room wasn’t practical. Nor was getting her young son to gramma’s house.

So Uber was a logical choice.

Although it was a completely random experience, it was a pleasure to be able to help this woman in a small way. I hope I provided her a little comfort during her ride, and I’m glad she was able to get attention for her problem promptly.

Hopefully her problem is minor and she will be back home in time to put her son to sleep tonight. For my part, it just felt good to be able to help someone in a very small way, something I had not anticipated when the day began.