Hunkered Down

With the east coast recovering from the overnight devastation of Hurricane Sandy, I have much compassion for residents’ plight. Prior to moving to Houston in 1998, I seldom thought about hurricanes. Since then we’ve dealt with three massive storms.

In June 2000, Tropical Storm Allison stalled and dumped 35 inches of rain – flooding downtown and a major highway. The only non-hurricane to have its name retired did an estimated $5.5 billion in damage.

In September 2005, just four weeks after Katrina devastated Louisiana, Cat 3 Rita took dead aim at Houston, then veered off to the east at the last minute. Two days prior, we were part of the largest evacuation in US history – three million people. Our normal four-hour journey to Dallas took 12. Friends left an hour after us and were in their car for 20 hours. We came home when the power returned five days later… and everything looked the same.

From 2-8 a.m. on the early morning of September 13, 2008, our family and dog gathered in a small interior bathroom to ride out Hurricane Ike. When it passed, I walked into the cul de sac to speak with neighbors, happy all seemed well. They pointed behind me to the home next to ours. It was split in half by a fallen tree. Rain returned a few hours later and ruined the house. The residents didn’t return for 14 months. In all, Ike left 2.3 million people without power… for up to three weeks. It caused $19.3 billion in destruction.

Hurricanes are one of nature’s most brutal forces. Without experiencing the fear, flooding and feelings of those involved, it’s hard to have sympathy – despite seeing the sad pictures on the news today. Thousands of your fellow citizens are dealing with a tremendous burden. Spare a moment to think of them. If you’re a believer, say a prayer. If you have spare dollars, send a few their way via Red Cross. Someday, you may be in need of a similar act of kindness. When you are, someone will be there. This is a great opportunity to pay it forward.

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Overnight Success

Kathy and I had dinner two weeks ago at the home of a couple we’ve grown close to the past few years. At the end of a wonderful evening together that included intriguing conversation and a meal featuring delicious pork, our hostess asked if we would like to see her latest paintings. Chris is an excellent artist and illustrator – with several published books – and she wanted to share her recent foray into impressionism.

As she shuffled through various outdoor, still-life and portrait works, I was amazed at her ability to vividly capture subjects on canvas. Being a neophyte to the art world, I asked about one nighttime scene of a bridge with water flowing rapidly beneath it, “How long did it take you to do that?”

“An entire lifetime,” she quickly responded. “It’s my art degree, the decades I’ve spent learning colors and technique, the ability to transfer what I see with my eye to my hand and onto the canvas, and the 10,000 hours I’ve stood in front of an easel. That’s how long it took me to paint that bridge.”

Malcolm Gladwell highlighted the 10,000 hours phenomenon in Outliers, using Bill Gates and the Beatles as prime examples. It’s become the accepted standard for the amount of time someone must put in to become an expert at his/her craft. Gladwell got it right… and our friend Chris is living proof. So, keep practicing.

[Note: Kathy and I commented that night how much we liked the pork entrée. Chris said it was her mother’s dish. A few days later, a note arrived in the mail. Enclosed was the recipe for “Mom’s Tender Lemon Pork Chops.” Those artists… they don’t miss a thing.]

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Wonderful Memories

Bob Jones. That’s an ordinary name. Google lists 10 million results.

When I was a kid growing up in what is now the heart of the DFW Metroplex – it was country back in the 60’s and 70’s – one Bob Jones lived around the corner from our property. His wife Chris and he raised three kids. Their youngest was six years older than me, so we didn’t do a lot together. The two girls had quarter horses, and mom drove them all over everywhere to show Skippa Streak, a Grand National Champion. Bob stayed home to run their family business… and often would bring us the best homemade potato soup you’ll ever taste.

My understanding is his bio went something like this: father died when he was three and his mother raised seven children alone; had a ninth grade education; joined the Navy at 17 and served on Guam at the end of WWII; earned his master’s electrician license on the GI Bill; started a lighting fixtures business; became an early distributor of Casablanca ceiling fans; invested their money well, especially in local real estate; and, accumulated a net worth in the millions. Pretty much a Horatio Alger story thanks to hard work, street smarts and the Midas touch. The greatest generation.

In the last few years, Bob had health issues. They moved 100 miles west of Ft. Worth to the ghost town where Chris grew up, named for her great grandfather… Farmer, Texas. Their home sat atop a hill and looked out on 700 acres they owned. My three siblings and I visited them two Decembers ago. Bob’s sight was just about gone, yet his memory was perfect. He shared quite a few stories about our youth.

Bob Jones died yesterday at the age of 82. I’ll be heading to Ft. Worth for his funeral on Friday. You see, Chris is my late mother’s youngest sister… and Bob Jones was my uncle. It will be an honor and joy to celebrate his extraordinary life.

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Reading Rainbow

Driving home today from one of my ‘downtown clients’, I saw a rainbow in the sky.

Most folks spend so much time searching for pots of gold (read: strategic initiatives, financial results, new products, higher compensation, more customers, nicer cars) that we forget to enjoy rainbows.

They’re quite beautiful, of course… and made famous one ROY G BIV. (I learned that acronym in college and still remember those colors of the rainbow: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.)

Rainbows are here one moment. Gone the next.

Increased earnings, bigger houses and acquiring a competitor… those last a lot longer.

They are important.

Rainbows are beautiful.

Life is better with both.

Seen a rainbow in the sky lately… or were you too busy to notice?

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Living ‘The Dance’

Garth Brooks just signed a five-year contract to perform on weekends at the Wynn Encore in Las Vegas. Having retired in 2000 to spend more time with his three daughters, the top-selling solo artist of all-time is ready to return to the stage. “He’s been happy being at home attending every soccer game and knowing what his kids like to eat for breakfast,” said Trisha Yearwood, whom he married four years ago. Of course, it helps that Steve Wynn tossed in millions and an 11-seat jet to convince him to perform live again.

While that set-up is likely only available to the rich and wildly famous, the rest of us have a blank whiteboard of opportunities we could pursue with our lives…yet stand in our own way of making them come true, out of fear for what we have to leave behind.

Recently, my wife and I were playing TableTopics, a game of “What If…?” with two couples who are close friends. Among the questions that came up were: “If you got a tattoo, what would it look like and where on your body would it be?” and “If you could belong to any culture, which one would you choose?” Those types of thought-provoking introspections always make for interesting conversations.

Another question we opined on was: “If money were no object, what would you do?” My buddy answered, “I’d get rid of the big house, fancy cars and pressure, and go live quietly somewhere on a beach in Mexico.” His wife said, “I’m right there with him.” When I asked what’s holding them back, he said, “The kids, my parents, responsibilities…the usual ties that bind.” Going into coaching mode, I said, “Why let that stop you?” He turned his head askew and said, “I’m not sure.”

I hope he thinks about that, because they are crystal clear on what would be a wonderful life for them – just unable to take the leap of faith required to make their dream come true. There is no guarantee it would work out, but they won’t find out if they never t try.

And now I’m glad I didn’t know
The way it all would end / The way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain / But I’d have had to miss the dance
~ Garth Brooks, 1990

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