Life at 3 miles an Hour

I’m on vacation this week. I’m not really sure if it’s a valid one or not. Virtually every person who has found out that I’m on vacation has asked me the same question. “So where are you going?” It got me to wondering….at what point in history did vacation become defined by where one goes? What I mean is, what location apart from my normal existence would validate my not being in the office for an extended period of time? I’ve been surrounded by the private school crowd for the past 6 years. Within that culture, vacation destinations are like merit badges to achieve. I know that I’m out of my league when a week in Hawaii is considered routine, average, middle of the road, no brain vacation. I thought that Cancun sounded exotic, until I learned of Cabo San lucas. The theory seems to be the harder it is to say, the more desirable it is to stay. Anyway, I know families with vacation homes in other parts of the world and seemingly other parts of the galaxy. So what can I offer? How do you ...

“I just got out”. That was a common response for me last week when I met up with people I know. Most of them knew that I had been called for jury duty, and the item of interest in my life, for a week anyway, was how long would I last before I got kicked off. I had no doubt that I would be kicked off, the only question was when. It’s not anything like how I imagined it would be, the jury selection process I mean. Being kicked off was everything that I have ever imagined and also experienced with rejection. I was certain that I really wanted nothing to do with jury duty at this point in my life. And by the way, it is a duty, or so I was told repeatedly throughout the process. I was thanked repeatedly from the court and the attorneys for taking part in this process and giving time out of my life, almost like I had volunteered for this. I was coerced. Actually I was threatened. My summons told me that to ignore this “duty” would be a crime carrying with it a fine and everything. ...

I have a confession. Actually, it’s been awhile since I’ve given a formal confession. Back in my days as a good Catholic growing up I would be in the confessional for the weekly list of my “sins du jour”. I never really was a good Catholic, but my mother was and she “inspired” me to make the Saturday visits with the priest so that I could stay in good standing with whoever it was that I needed to be in good standing with. I never really thought that it was God keeping score. In fact I’m pretty sure that He nodded off and sent in a designated confession angel after about my third trip when it was apparent that I only really knew of a few things that constituted sin and I repeated them with great regularity. They usually had something to do with calling my sister names. I’ve been accused many times of being boring, predictable, and scheduled. I am. I’m sure that in those days my priest would have agreed. I secretly imagine that just once in my relationship with him he would have...

You may have heard it said of someone, “they just have a magnetic personality”. I’m sure that you even personally know people who just seem to attract a crowd. In Malcom Gladwell’s book The Tipping Point these people are identified as connectors. My wife is one of those people. She’s a magnet. By that I mean that, first of all, people are attracted to her, and secondly, wherever she happens to be there is a certain energy or force in the air. Things happen around her. Her driving philosophy is that life is a party and if she meets you once, she wants you to be a part of it. Your agenda, whatever it may be, will be greatly advanced if you can get her to buy into it. Then it becomes like so many dominos lined up in succession that when the leader is tipped, they all fall in line. Sometimes I envy her. I’ve never really considered myself to have a magnetic personality at all. As a leader, this means I have to work extra hard at things which are naturally a part of her being. ...

I need to begin this by saying that I hesitate to write what is going on in my brain. Sometimes I probably ought to listen to my hesitation. I only hesitate this week though because it's a heavy subject matter in my heart. You could even call it depressing. It's not very inspirational, but that being said, I think it's important. It's important because too many times we try to only focus on things that make us happy and encouraged and the rest of the world can go to Hell and we're okay with it. So anyway, It’s Summer at the beach. It seems as if anytime I pick up a paper or turn on a television I’m reliving a drowning somewhere. Some are not good swimmers. Some are delusional in their self perceived abilities. Some very capable accomplished swimmers just get carried away in a rip tide without warning. My beach has few of those dangers and therefore almost never experiences those tragedies, or so I thought. Last night I think that I was witness to the eff...

As I sit in my seat with a view, I’m watching a dog. Actually it’s a beautiful dog. It’s one of those caramel cream colored labs, the very expressive kind. It’s the kind of dog that actually has a smile on his face when he’s happy and a sort of melancholy look when things are not as he’d wish them to be. This dog looks half way melancholy this morning. He’s tied to a small tree outside of Starbucks patiently waiting on his companion to continue their walk along the beach. He’s not distressed, he seems to accept this as a temporary break from the daily quest that awaits. He understands his partners need for some caffeine “to go”. After all, what type of person would actually walk around Seattle in the morning with nothing in their hand. The steaming cup sleeved in an environmentally friendly jacket is much a status symbol as the retractable line that he’s tethered to. So he waits patiently. Actually I see him quite often. I remember him because most in his situation look l...

I have a blinking cursor this morning. It’s annoying actually. I’ve never really thought about it until this morning. This morning I’m sitting back in my seat of first choice, by the window on the beach at Starbucks. All seems to be right with the world again except for this annoying blinking cursor. I must have been sitting here for awhile, at least through the first half of a Rascal Flatts CD that’s playing on my laptop. I’m waiting, watching, thinking, anticipating some type of inspiration that will cause my cursor to move across the screen. But it was just sitting there blinking as if to be repeating “You’ve got nothing”. And this was becoming very annoying, because truthfully, I had nothing. I didn’t appreciate being reminded of it though. Not many of us like to be reminded that we’re lacking, we’re falling short or we’re not fulfilling some greater task. I am very capable of knowing when I’ve got nothing. Anyway, the cursor was blinking, as if counting down some unsee...