How CPR Saved My Life and Shaped My Career

Photo by Joshua Chehov on Unsplash

Okay, now that I have your attention, I should say that I did not have a heart attack. Let me explain.

About 25 years ago, I was early in my career doing corporate communications for a spinoff company called Lucent Technologies. It was the first of a few dream jobs for me. I had become the junior member of the new corporate media relations team that had just helped launched this company and brand with much fanfare and success (it didn’t last, but that’s another story). It was fun, exciting, and I was learning a ton from some amazing public relations pros that had grown up in AT&T.

One of those pros was Jane, the head of media relations. She was my boss, and we had a great connection, sharing youthful roots in Hudson County and affiliations with Saint Peter’s College. For me, Jane was part wise teacher, part tough coach and part big sister. She taught me about tight writing, reading reporters and dealing with crises. She also kept me laughing and gave me dating advice (Lose the turtlenecks!) – usually at the same time.

One typical work day, we were wrapping up and I was heading home. I said good night to Jane as she was packing up and heading off to a family thing. We would be the last ones out, which was pretty usual for a weeknight of late deadlines.

The next morning came and I arrived at the office for my usual routine, working the morning media report with one of my colleagues, when one of our directors called everyone into his office. He had the unenviable and heartbreaking task of telling us all that Jane had died unexpectedly and tragically the night before. Boom! There would be no more hearty laughter echoing from her office … no more rants about corporate stupidity or bad reporting … no more voicemails saying, “Do me a favor, Bill.” 

As you might expect. it hit everyone incredibly hard in our organization, and I was deeply impacted by the events and the way our team reacted individually and collectively. For me, this part of my career – my life – would leave a lasting imprint on how I wanted to work with people, and eventually lead teams, in my corporate career. It laid the foundation for several beliefs – what I coined as my own CPR -- that I have tried to live by over the years. 

Reflecting on Work and Leadership

Not long after Jane’s passing, I was given the opportunity to participate in one of those Ivy League Executive Education programs.  You go away for a few weeks, get your mini-MBA and reflect on your leadership style with like-minded aspiring executives. I was a bit on the young side in my cohort, and one of the final exercises was to think about your leadership story. I thought a lot about our Lucent team, the amazing work we did, and the way we worked through difficult times like Jane’s passing.

On the last day, a few people volunteered to tell their stories to the group in an auditorium. I didn’t think I could do it. While I am a “communicator,” presenting in front of crowds was not my sweet spot. But, I stood up there, told the story about Jane, what I learned and how it shaped me.

What I spoke about then was the C and P of my leadership beliefs (R would come later).

Community

When I think about what I enjoy about work -- and picking a place and team where I can do my best work -- it begins with Community.

We all spend lots of hours with our co-workers (In the Lucent days and since I have probably spent too many hours at work, but that’s another story). In the days and months after Jane’s passing, our entire organization mourned together. We realized we may have come together initially as co-workers, but in the end our bonds, concern and support for each other ran much deeper, especially at a time like this. That sense of community would remain evident even as the years passed.

As job arrangements change and you join new companies, you find that certain people remain in your life. In some cases, if you are lucky, those “work friends” become “just friends.” You continue to connect. Conversations become more about life and less about the latest career achievement or corporate gossip.

My lasting insight was that I wanted to know about my team’s families, their hobbies, their passions, their back stories. I wanted to share jokes, dinners, complaints, peeves and personal moments, not just be all business and transactional.

Most people would tell you I can be very serious and intense when I am working, and I may not always seem like the “warm and fuzzy” type at the office, but that sense of community matters to me. I have always been genuinely curious and interested in building those connections with people, and when you don’t have that, the workplace can feel hollow and cold.

Perspective

The next insight I have taken to heart is Perspective.

Going through the death of a loved one or a close co-worker can often provide the jolt you need to re-set your mind and keep work’s trivial problems and oversized expectations in perspective.

In the aftermath of Jane’s passing, I got a new boss Paula who was the most even-keeled person I ever worked for. She taught me that on most days, the world was not going to end for a typo or a missed call. We would figure it out and correct course together. The reality is if you aren’t making some mistakes then you aren’t trying new things and learning. My counsel to my teams has been: We will make mistakes. It happens. Let’s just not make the same one twice.

Over the years, this was probably the hardest lesson to learn, but it is one that has meant the most to me. In the corporate world, too often, there can be unrealistic expectations of perfection in everything. If you aren’t maximizing every opportunity and sweating every little detail, then you are made to feel like a slacker and the ulcers and anxiety can become constant companions.

I often find myself coaching my teams to know the difference between the “critical path” work that needs perfection – those where we all need to rally together – versus other work that needs to be “done” so we have more time and focus for the critical path assignments. When everything is urgent and requires a “gold-plated” approach, there is a cost in morale, engagement and satisfaction. If someone spots that off-kilter graphic on slide 39, or the missing Oxford comma on paragraph 5, congratulate them for finding the “Easter egg” you left. Correct it and move on.  

Knowing the difference between critical and nice-to-have helps you keep work life and personal wellness in the right perspective.  

Professionalism

Community and Perspective are wonderful, but at the end of the day I can get that from my family, my friends, or a pick-up basketball game. In my career, I want to work with people who take great pride in delivering high-quality, impactful work. Great results matter. Achieving goals matter. Setting high standards matter.  Professionalism matters.

On the day we found out about Jane’s passing, one of my colleagues demonstrated that professionalism for me in a profound way. One of my older co-workers, John, grew up working in newsrooms. He had “ink under his fingernails” as they used to say, and he also knew the newsroom never stopped. Shortly after the initial shock and tears about Jane, he grabbed me and took me to his office, and he said we have a job to do. We sat down at his computer and wrote Jane’s obituary in perfect AP style.

Whether it has been prepping for CEO interviews … quelling crises … announcing acquisitions … reporting earnings and running Annual Meetings … executing investor days or NYSE bell-ringings … rolling out new company strategies and introducing new leaders, John and many others over the years would instill in me a strong sense of work ethic, accountability, professionalism and pride in delivering great communications. It’s why we do what we do.

Respect and Recognition

Later in my career, I added the Rs to my leadership beliefs – Respect and Recognition.

You learn great lessons in your career from the leaders you want to emulate, but you can earn equally great lessons from the leaders you don’t want to be.

You will always encounter difficult situations in the workplace. Job assignments that don’t work out. Work styles that don’t mesh. Different philosophies or views on strategy and goals. Conflict is natural, necessary and sometimes even productive. Whatever the conflict or situation, though, dealing with people respectfully and honestly is a standard I hope I can always keep.

There’s no need to rehash some of these stories. While they felt very negative at the time, in the end they put me in a much better place and taught me very positive lessons about the leader I want to be. 

Recognizing people’s value and contributions is the final piece and the most rewarding. I have had leaders over the years who always seized the opportunity to thank people in the moment and to make it a priority. No event was ended or project finished until people were thanked. Recognition is something best served “warm” and “warmly.” It’s not always about the grand gesture, big celebration and award (although those are nice, too). It’s about your sincerity … letting people know that you see them, appreciate them, and understand what they contributed to achieving this goal. That handshake, hug, text or note says everything to the recipient – and says volumes about the leader.

Wrapping Up

A couple of decades later, I was the guy calling everyone into his office to tell them sad news about a colleague who had passed away after an illness.  I was the one shutting his door to write the tribute for Elinore and run the communications of this news to others. And, I found comfort in knowing I was in a place and with colleagues and friends who shared many of those same beliefs -- Community, Perspective, Professionalism, Respect and Recognition.

And, that’s it, CPR may not have “saved” my life, but it has definitely made my work life a whole lot more meaningful, fun and effective.

Driving Miss Tess

"You know that you aren't driving with Tess to school this morning, right? She has her license now," said my wife as the cold splash of reality hit me.

I had gotten used to our morning routine on school days. I would get my tea, clean out the dishwasher, read the news on my iPad and impatiently wait for Tess to come downstairs with her backpack. She would drive us both to school, practicing and learning her first lessons of the school day behind the wheel.

My more experienced friends have often told me to tread lightly with a teenage daughter's emotions, outbursts and deadly silence. I've read books trying to understand my ineptitude in finding the right topics, questions and words that might make for a civil conversation. There have been a lot of slamming doors, screaming outbursts and tears (and that was just me :) ... Patience. Patience. Patience.

MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING

Over the last year of teaching Tess to drive, it has been very different. She has tolerated her father a bit more than usual, and we found common ground. We discovered a safe place (a black Toyota RAV4),... a neutral topic (driving)... and an appropriate tone (quiet, instructive), that we could both agree to. 

Our interests were aligned for the first time in years. She wanted her driver's license and access to a car. I wanted a peaceful and enjoyable time with my daughter. And, we all agreed that I was a better driving option than her mother, who did not have the nerves or restraint to drive with a teen.  

Teaching a teenager to drive can be a very stressful experience for everyone, but I was lucky with Tess (my daughter Emma was whole different experience). Tess was goal-oriented -- what will it take to get my license and more independence? Listen to dad? OK. Spend a few hours a week in the car with him? OK. Don't talk back? OK.

GROUND RULES

Our driving time together followed certain patterns and ground rules: 

-- I would always start with one half-joking/half-serious question: Are you mentally prepared to drive? I seriously wanted to know if that was her focus when she was getting behind the wheel. She shouldn't be distracted, tired or upset about something else if she was going to drive. If there were other things going on in her mind, that was okay, but it wasn't time to drive a car.  

-- Once we got in the car, we had Dad's annoying litany of checks. Glasses? (Put on your glasses). License? (Make sure you have your license) Phone? (Put it away, or connect it to the car for some low music and turn on Do Not Disturb); Seatbelts? (For you and your passenger). Mirrors. (Check all your mirrors and visibility). Gear (Let's go.). I eventually got the exasperated "Dad, I know" comment as I would sit in my passenger seat and go through the checklist, but my hope is that it runs through her head and stays with her even when I am not there. I repeated a lot of other checklists and tips that I hope she'll remember in the years to come -- Never be in rush to get to a red light.  Slow down ... Are you ready to turn? Then "Gas 'N Go," don't meander through an intersection. ... Don't crowd the car in front of you at a red light? It you can't see their rear tires, you're too close...

-- Speak softly and carry a Waze app. I grew up in Jersey City, living every day with loud noises and louder people, so my normal speaking voice can be a bit harsher than my children's genteel, suburban ears are accustomed to. "Dad, stop yelling," they will say. "I am not yelling. I am just speaking loudly to get my point across. You don't know what yelling is." When I was driving with Tess, I spoke as softly as possible and she actually listened. When I did raise my voice (to avoid death from an oncoming car), Tess would object, "You're yelling at me" and then I would quietly explain that I had nothing but my voice to help control this car -- and if she wasn't responding to my "gentle" instructions then all I could do was raise my voice until she listened.  We eventually reached an understanding. We also agreed I could use my Waze app -- even though it might annoy her when she was driving the same way to school every day -- because I wanted to watch her speed and know if there was any detours ahead.

Tess successfully passed her driver's test last week. I was incredibly proud of my "student," but a little sad for myself. Our driving lessons are over and this special "dad and daughter" time has come to an end. Stay safe, Tess. Indulge your Dad with a drive once in while.  It's my favorite place to spend time with you ... and on terms we both seem to like.  Love you! 

Why I Walk

People choose many forms of exercise to stay fit and healthy nowadays. Cycling. Swimming. Paddling. CrossFit.  Why do I walk? Because I can't always play basketball (see here and here)-- and the truth is I hate to run.


I used to run with my wife when we first started dating. It was that period of dating when you would do anything to be a couple and try to impress your significant other, but that incentive doesn't last long. I trained for weeks one time to run a 5K with her, only to have her decide she and her girlfriend were going to do a girl's weekend instead. Ugh!


When I run, I always feel rushed and wonder when will it be over. I am a sprinter, not a jogger. I never know what the right pace is. Before too long my knees hurt or my calves ache. Rather than enjoying this exercise, I am consumed with how much longer it will take. My mind becomes cluttered, consumed and stressed by all the things about the run -- my pain, my gait, my time, the end! I miss out on all the things I enjoy when I walk (and some researchers would agree there are other risks to running). 

Walking for Body and Mind

Walking keeps my body active and my mind clear. I put on my head phones and walk out the door for an experience I fully enjoy. I listen to music on Pandora.  Some days it's Journey or Van Morrison ... other days it might be Enya, Tony Bennett or Tracy Chapman. I can get lost in the tunes. I appreciate the scenery. Whether I am walking around the neighborhood at home or on the beach on vacation, I enjoy the sights. The green trees. The crashing waves. The clouds. The houses. The cars. The dogs. The people. I can be an observer on my walk. Each sight taking me someplace else in my mind -- away from the to-do lists at home or the deadlines at work.

I usually keep a brisk pace on my walks and tackle the hills in my neighborhood.  I track my Fitbit and might do 3-5 miles on a weekend morning, stopping occasionally for a photo or to pick up recycling and trash on the side of the road (see Plogging). 

While I walk, my mind clears a bit and wanders naturally to places, thoughts and solutions I can't find anywhere else. I can reflect on big picture issues or just fun. I might think about interesting topics for a future blog post. I might rehearse a conversation or speech I am having trouble with at work. I may wonder about how to approach and talk with my kids in better ways. I may have the room in my mind to be more creative about solving a problem or consider longer term goals and plans.

I come away from my walks more relaxed, re-charged and ready to go. And isn't that what it's all about... whether you run, walk or do goat yoga (yes, goat yoga.).

Classroom on the Court: "Picking Up" a Lifetime of Education

I've spent nearly one-third of my life in classrooms and enjoyed the instruction of brilliant and inspiring teachers that laid the foundation of my education. I've spent about two-thirds of my life in business offices, working at well-respected companies for some amazing bosses who taught me skills and knowledge that have helped me build my career. But, in between that class time and those business hours, I've learned some of my most valuable life lessons in a very different place.

When I think about places that have helped shape who I am, what I enjoy, and how I treat others, one place stands out: the basketball court -- or more specifically the pick-up basketball games I played throughout my life.

Whether it was Country Village Park, the Yanitelli Center, the Lombardi Field House, the Assumption School gym or other stops along the way, I've spent my life "picking up" games with friends and strangers who shared a common passion, a little sweat and simple respect.

Thinking back on some of these games and places, I can still see many of the diverse faces, sizes and shapes of the other players,... feel the damp cold of some courts and the suffocating heat of others,... and hear the squeak of sneakers on a newly waxed floor or the clang of a ball on a loose outdoor rim,

Country Village Park

I spent a lot of my time as a young kid and through high school, playing on the outdoor courts in Country Village (and the courts at Our Lady of Mercy School).  These were asphalt hard top courts, which were buzzing with games in the summer.

Much of the "grip" from this basketball
 was left on the Country Village Courts

There were three courts and mostly school kids all over the place during the summer. I would get there early and spend hours at the park shooting by myself to improve my game. I learned the lesson of putting in the time and practice to get better. The truth is you wouldn't get picked for a game or keep a court by winning if you didn't have some skills.

I would get into pick-up games with my friends or whoever was around (one-time Leonard Marshall from the NY Giants came by). Simply walking up to a stranger or group at another basket with a little confidence was all it took: "Wanna play?" Three-on-three or five-on-five, it didn't matter. The etiquette was easily understood.

The local kids in Country Village -- mostly from OLM -- "ran" the park, but pick-up games were a bit of an equalizer.  If you came to shoot around, people didn't bother you and would usually include you in a run. The occasional rival crew from St. Paul's or kids from the Curries Woods projects would come by and basketball was the peacemaker.

Where I grew up, there were simple rules and you followed them.  If you scored, you kept the ball (Winner takes). You didn't play dirty. You called your own fouls -- and everyone respected the call. There wasn't much "trash talk" in these games back in the 1980s. If you lost, it was next team up or shoot to see who got to play. It was good, clean, competitive fun.

Yanitelli Center

When I got to college, my pick-up games moved indoors to the bright lights and hardwood floors of Yanitelli Center at Saint Peter's College in Jersey City. Free court time was tough to get with team practices, intramurals, etc., all competing for time, but there were always good runs at night with top-notch players (current and former college players, community members, coaches and athletes from Jersey City). It was some really good basketball at a whole other level and speed -- not the rough and tumble play I was used to in Country Village.

Victor R. Yanitelli Recreational Life Center
at Saint Peter's College (now University)
in Jersey City

The court rules were generally the same, but a scrawny, 5'7 kid had his work cut out for him to get in -- and stay in -- these games.  In this environment, I learned how to fit in,... how to read people ... and I got to know more people who weren't like me.

I became friendly with some of the regular guys and learned their names (Van, John, Tommy). I respected people's boundaries. I passed a whole lot, hustled on both ends, kept my mouth shot and tried to keep my mistakes to a minimum. Looking back, it was an early place where I learned how to network. I became a familiar face, someone who people liked having on their team.

Lombardi Center

When I went to graduate school in the Bronx, I was trying to become part of a whole new community at Fordham University. I didn't know anyone, and my roommate was not a match (that's a story for another time). Most of the other students in my program were part-time or didn't live on campus, so life in the Bronx was a bit solitary.

Lombardi Field House

I started to shoot at the courts in the Lombardi Memorial Center. A big track field house type of facility with an indoor basketball court amidst the track and tennis courts. I discovered that they had a regular pick-up game at noon every day. It was a game organized by guys from the Athletics Department -- administrators, trainers, a few coaches. It was a "closed" game (no students and only select outsiders), but my time and lessons from Yanitelli made it easy to make the right connections and fit in here.

My grad school life was simple -- reading, studying, class, and basketball. I loved those basketball games. It was a friendly group and a daily reminder of what I loved about basketball.  No matter what else was going on with school or life, for that hour it was just competitive fun... make that shot ... thread that pass ... set that screen ... forget everything else. Basketball has always been that kind of refuge and happy place for me no matter what else has been going on in life.

Assumption School

I picked up games here and there after grad school, but as life went on with marriage, kids and growing older, the games and opportunities became less frequent.

When I got into my 40s, some dads from Assumption School and Parish in Morristown started a pick-up game at the school on weeknights. What a great opportunity to find that refuge and fun again. We have been running "old man basketball" -- as my kids call it -- for several years.  The crew has changed a lot over the years with a few constant faces. We have a mix of doctors, brokers, teachers, coaches, executives, etc., but we all lace up our sneakers and leave it out on the court for a couple of hours each week.

The backyard rim
where I still pick up a game
with the kids and cousins

My steps are slower and the shots drop less frequently at "old man basketball," but many of the life lessons from pick-up basketball remain.

• Keep the rules simple
• Enjoy the competition (it's not all about winning)
• Find common ground with others
• Respect people and what they bring to the group 
• Learn to read people and figure out how to fit in
• Do what you love as long as you can

As I get older, I enjoy and cherish each game a bit more. I know my days are numbered in this "classroom" where I picked up a lifetime of education.

Happy Father's Day -- Life Lessons from Emma's Dad

Today, I am proud to introduce the first ever guest post for my "Truth Is..." blog.  A few months ago, my daughter Emma had to write and deliver an original speech for her forensics team, and she decided it would be the perfect opportunity to tell everyone about the "life lessons" her father has imparted to her over 14 years. You won't be able to enjoy her dramatic delivery as I did, but the witty writing stands well on its own. She's talented at writing -- and embarrassing her dad. My only caveat is that -- like her father -- Emma is not beyond using an exaggeration or two for the sake of a laugh or good story telling. Be gentle on me. Enjoy and Happy Father's Day to all the dads who share their own life lessons every day!

***

"Life Lessons"

All kids have rules, even if we don’t like to follow them.  There is basically a rule for everything: homework, bedtime, chores. You name it, there’s a rule for it.  Although the rule does depend on which parent makes it.  For my mom, the rules are simple: do your chores, clean up after yourself, say please and thank you, and don’t embarrass her. 

With my Dad, it’s a completely different story.  His rules consist of so many strange things that it will make your head spin.  My Dad calls them “life lessons”, which are really rules in disguise. So far, I have been given the honor of receiving, well, A LOT of “life lessons”.   I will now share with you my top five favorites.

Three Squares

Life Lesson Number One: “Three Squares”.  Surprisingly one of Dad’s “life lessons” has to do with toilets.  It is basically pointed directly at me.  Dad’s rule is, you can only use three squares of toilet paper no matter how messy it is.  Gross, right?  Of course I always cheat on this “life lesson” because, three squares? Really?  

Life Lesson Number Two: “The Sunday Rules.”  What is the worst day of the week for you?  I bet you’ll say Monday.  Everyone hates Mondays.  My most dreaded day of the week?  Sunday.  On Sunday, we go to church.  Now I know it’s not very Catholic of me to hate this day, but in my defense, that day is when Dad’s “Sunday Rules” are enforced.  The “Sunday Rules” include get up early, get dressed for church, eat breakfast, and go to church on time.  Simple, right?  Wrong.  It’s basically a boot camp in my house on Sundays.  If everyone, including my mom, isn’t up and completely ready by 9:30, Dad will throw one of his, “Dad Fits.”  Trust me, a “Dad Fit” is not pretty.  A Dad Fit is when dad yells, but thinks he is not yelling.  He calls it “raising his voice.”

Sammy is not my dog.

Life Lesson Number Three: “Not My Dog.”  This summer we got a new dog, called Sammy.  In my opinion, he is one of the most adorable dogs ever.  Of course with every perfection there comes a flaw.  He absolutely loves to use the bathroom in the house.  Then my mom and dad always argue over who has to clean up the “incident”.  My dad’s favorite argument is that Sammy is my mom’s dog and not his.  He uses this with everything to do with the dog.  If the dog has to be taken out, he’ll always respond with “Not my dog.”  If the dog is tearing a magazine apart, Dad says “Not my dog.”  Dad’s “life lesson?”  If it wasn’t your idea, you have the ultimate out.  Sometimes I wish I could apply this rule to my homework. 

Life Lesson Number Four: “The Rough House Rule.”  As everyone in my house knows, Dad is in charge.  And like every great or not-so-great ruler, they can abuse their power.  But even kings have to have a little fun every once in a while.  What dad doesn’t love playing and getting dirty with their kids?”  And what kid doesn’t love to see their dad let loose?  But this happy playtime sadly does not last.  When Dad gets hurt, the dream turns into a nightmare.  Everything stops and there’s that moment where no one knows what to do.  By the way, Dad’s major injuries usually involves his glasses.  Dad’s “life lesson”? All rough housing stops when Dad gets hurt. 

Emma and Dad -- not on a Sunday,
but a fun day

Life Lesson Number Five: “Airline Parent.”  My final favorite “life lesson” is actually one that Dad made up for just himself.  The life lesson?  Always be an airline parent.  The rule on the airplane is that in case of emergency put the oxygen mask on yourself first before you help your child.  My dad lives and breathes this rule.  He gets to the shower first.  He makes his plate of dinner first.  He gets in the car first.  And you can be sure that if he is on an airplane sitting next to me and those oxygen masks come down, he’s going to put his on first.  Because, that’s the rule.

Oh, there are many more “life lessons” that I could share.  But even with all of these “life lessons”, my dad will always be the best dad in the world.  Now I know many of you have given this title to your dad.  I’m quite sure you have “Dad rules” in your house that could rival mine.  Dads can be real pains and have some crazy rules, but all of the “life lessons” are because they really care.  Those life lessons are actually “I love you” lessons.  PLUS it gives Mom and I lots of things to laugh at.  The truth of the matter is, I love my Dad… “life lessons” and all.  

          

The Quiet Man's Commencement Speech

Two years ago, I had this idea that everyone has a commencement speech to give. Everyone has lessons to share, stories to tell, advice to give -- if only someone asks.

It's an idea that returns to my mind every spring as graduates roll across stages, "Pomp and Circumstance" plays in your head, and the "best" commencement speeches flood social media.

My first try at this topic was with my mother in 2014. An ordinary woman by many standard measures, but an extraordinary woman by my standards.  You can read about her commencement advice here.

A Reluctant Speaker

This year, I decided to return to this topic. Naturally, I called on my father. The other half of my wise parenting duo. He wasn't enthusiastic about the idea. "I hoped you had forgotten," he said when I showed up at his house with my pen and pad ready for his interview.

My dad is a man of few words. He's a quiet man. Some of that might be because he has spent more than 50 years of his life competing with my chatty mom for an audience or "air-time." Some of it might just be his nature -- introverted and humble.

If you've never interviewed your parents, I highly recommend it. In my line of work, I've interviewed CEOs, scientists, business people, historians, etc., and my approach is always to be prepared with questions, but to probe and follow-up looking for the "story" or the color. It's a totally different dynamic and you learn things about their lives and their thinking that you may have never  have known before.

A Stable Boy and Soda Jerk from Jersey City 

My father has lived quite an interesting life over his 75 years. He has seen some amazing things and earned a great life with hard work. He could certainly teach some life lessons to this year's class of graduates.

My father grew up in Jersey City. His father was  a Scottish immigrant from Edinburgh, a tradesman. His mother was a Jersey City girl who worked for the phone company. I think he inherited his work ethic, quiet demeanor and handy-man qualities from his working class parents.

When you ask my father about his youth, the answers come slowly. It's like he is thoughtfully walking down a hall in his mind slowly remembering different people and moments. He opens and closes doors, and only tells you bits and pieces. He is still skeptical about the point to all of this.

I find out that when he was 15 years old, he  ran a stable in Jersey City  for a collection of horse owners. What? I can't fathom horse stables in the Jersey City where I grew up, but it existed down where Country Village is today and people rode in the parks and on some trails. The owners paid my father about $5 a week to clean, feed and care for the horses.  He tells me a bit about "Sarge," a tall black gelding jumper that he really liked.
 
That was his morning work. After school in the afternoons, he worked the counter at Pete & Henry's shop on the corner of Cator and Fowler Avenues (two blocks from where he lives today). He was a "soda jerk" as they called them in those days, making malteds and egg creams for the regulars. When I asked, he could still describe how he made the best egg cream in town (see classic recipe here). I learn that my father was an original "barista" mastering froth long before Starbucks.

And then on the weekends, he had yet another job, washing cars and pumping gas at Ed's service station. Horses, egg creams and cars. What else could a teenaged boy in Jersey City desire?

My quiet father doesn't really offer any great wisdom for graduates from this period of his life, but I think it tells its own message about the value of a strong work ethic.

Working in the Hallowed Halls of Bell Labs

In between these jobs, my father graduated from Snyder High School, where he specialized in Industrial Arts. He got his first job at AT&T Bell Labs and worked for a year in one of their electrical shops making coils for new phone prototypes and equipment. Then, he joined the U.S. Air Force.

He saw the world (San Antonio, Tex.., Wichita Falls, Ks., and Mt, Hebo, Oregon!!) and learned another trade -- air conditioning and cooling systems. As a kid, I never rally understood the A/C system and Air Force connection. Was my father the Maytag man for the military? No, my father explained that they needed major A/C systems to keep all the advanced radar equipment cool at the station in Oregon. They were keeping an eye on our neighbors in the Soviet Union and on the lookout for Russian aircraft.

After four years my father returned home to Jersey City to marry my mother. He went back to AT&T Bell Labs and worked there for 36 years.

The transistor was invented at Bell Labs in 1947,
one of the hallmark breakthroughs of this invention factory

My father beams with pride -- as much as this stoic man beams at all -- when he talks about "the Labs." He started out as a union member (AFL-CIO) and worked as a mechanic in various shops. It was an exciting era for Bell Labs and telecommunications. My father shared the halls and cafeteria with brilliant people who invented the transistor, discovered the Big Bang Theory and launched the first Telstar satellite.(Read a history of Bell Labs inventions here). 


He took great pride in being part of such a forward-looking place that was shaping technology and society. Some of the prototypes and materials he worked on became parts of the miniaturized circuit boards that would end up in the first telecommunication satellites circling the earth, the first Picture Phone (40 years before FaceTime) and the lasers that became the foundation of today's fiber optic networks.

Bell Labs was a special place and my father felt special for working there. His career progressed over the years into management jobs, overseeing the mailroom and loading dock operations as well as semiconductor clean rooms. He enjoyed supervising teams. "I always tried to treat them they way I wanted to be treated," he said. "It was always about getting the job done right."

I hear him talk about his time there and the lesson I take away for graduates is to pick a workplace, a company and a job you can be proud of. Be part of making a difference in the world. Understand and appreciate how your role -- whether it's fabricating silicon chips or delivering the mail -- is part of a bigger picture. Enjoy being part of something bigger than yourself that can change the world.

Times Change, But Don't be Afraid

In 1994, times were changing. AT&T, the former Ma Bell monopoly, was still trying to compete on a global stage and the old "contract for life" mentality was being tattered there and across Corporate America. My father, "the company man," essentially worked himself out of a  job and got a harsh dose of reality that many in his generation didn't see coming. He was "downsized" by AT&T after 36 years. "I didn't expect it," he said.  He would go onto work at Essex County College for another nine years, but leaving his home at Bell Labs was not easy.

When I asked my father what he would want to instill in graduates, the first thing he said was "Don't be afraid of change." This surprised me given the fact he spent half his life with one company. He talked about the changes he faced going from union jobs to management ranks at AT&T and other moments in his career. "Change is always challenging, but it taught me about different things that I enjoyed doing. Don't second guess yourself."

Education also means a great deal to my father, who has a high school diploma and a master's degree from the school of hard knocks. He would emphasize that to today's graduates: "I didn't have certain opportunities because I didn't have the education."

One More Lesson

At the end of our interview, I asked my dad about lessons he learned from people in his life, whom he admired. He returned to his youth and the horse stables. He described Sarge's owner, Bill Leach. "I always admired the way he carried himself with people and the way he dealt with problems in his life. He was very quiet, very deliberate and had a very calm demeanor." 

Ironically -- or perhaps not -- my father seems to be describing the man he has become since he was a redheaded teenager. Quiet, deliberate and someone to be admired. 

In our interview, he shared with me simple truths from his life about the value of hard work, handling change and treating people right. It's not a commencement speech that you'll find on YouTube, but it is a thoughtful conversation with one student -- his son -- who is still taking notes and learning lessons from his father. Class dismissed.

New Year's Resolutions -- More or Less

New Year's Eve and thoughts turn to new beginnings, resolutions and how to improve your life.

There are all the things you want to do more of: more exercise, more reading, more learning, or more time with loved ones. There are also the things that we want to do less of: less junk food, less cursing, or less time working.
 

The more or less of New Year's resolutions are all well-intentioned, but the truth is we all just want to find happiness. That's the best resolution we can make.

I recently listened to a TED talk by Robert Waldinger and he reported on the results of a long-term Harvard Study on Adult Development, which has run for 75 years. What was their big finding about what makes a good life? How do people find happiness? It's all about having good relationships. "Good relationships keep us happier and healthier," says Waldinger. Not money. Not power. Not privilege.

So, here are a few of my resolutions for building better relationships in 2016:

• Assume people's best intentions. It's hard in today's day and age not to be cynical or suspicious. It's easy to believe someone else is out to get us or acting selfishly. But, it is certainly easier to build relationships when you believe people are generous, caring and acting with the best of intentions.

• Take-five. Many things that I say could be more thoughtfully presented or better received if I would only take a moment to calm down and think. A quick ten-count (okay, maybe 5) before I let fly with a sarcastic, biting quip or a screaming tirade. A few more thoughtful pauses and reflections can go a long way to building relationships - or not damaging the ones you already have.
• Two ears, one mouth. The old saying is "You have two ears and one mouth, you should use them in that proportion." Relationships are about listening to others.  Genuinely listening. Actively listening. 'Nuff said.
• Kids in the kitchen. Know what a real problem and issue is.  Think of it like cooking with kids in the kitchen.  If they aren't burning down the house or playing with knives, then an inedible snack or a little mess (or even a major clean-up) is not the end of the world. Don't cause friction in your relationships unnecessarily.
• Give till it hurts. A good relationship is one where you get even more satisfaction from what you can give, than from what you receive. Taking a burden from a friend in need. Listening to someone else's worries. Giving up time you may not have to spend it with your child. A little bit of sacrifice and selflessness is the foundation of any strong relationship.

So as we turn to a new year and think about resolutions, do a little "more," do a little "less," but focus on your relationships. Science says you'll be happy that you did.  

The Secrets of Super Heroes -- and Families -- Through the Eyes of a Seven-Year-Old

My little guy Will is a shy 7-year-old boy. He doesn't have whole lot to say to most people. Probably like a lot of little boys.  Words are just an unnecessary disruption between butt smacks, ear flicks and tickle fights.

Will speaks in brief sentences and one-word responses (Hi ... Bye ... Thank you...  Chicken fingers, please... More ketchup... I'm bored... Next question... Can we go home now?).

Light Him Up!

He fidgets and mumbles a bit when strangers try to speak with him (this means anyone who is not his mom, dad or sisters).  But once in a while, someone can hit on a topic that will get him excited. You see this little boy literally light up and give you a glimpse of all the wheels that are churning in that mind of his.

This week, we were in Ohio visiting with family and having to talk to lots of people.  Will was his usually quiet self, floating in and out of rooms of adults and older cousins to build Legos, watch an iPad or play video games by himself.

I had been teasing him all week that Batman wasn't really a superhero, just a rich guy with a bunch of gadgets and no superpowers (see this YouTube video).  Well, we visited with his Aunt Rita and she knows a whole lot about superheroes and comics (could be that she lives in Seattle, or that she owns a movie theater in Ohio. Not too sure how she gathered such knowledge). They compared notes on superheroes I had never even heard of, and he was quite excited to talk to her about all the members of the Justice League, their back stories and what made them superheroes.

Every Superhero Team Needs Key Players

Tonight, I decided to see what else he thought about superheroes and I got quite an education from my little genius.  He is actually quite a philosopher and I think he already has the makings of a doctoral thesis in the works.

According to Will, every good superhero team needs a few key players, and he can describe them and draw examples if you ask. As I listened to him, I was impressed with the characters he named and the traits he identified. The truth is I started to think about how his traits were needed in any good team or family.

• Every superhero teams needs a "strong guy, Dad." The Hulk. Thing. Maybe a Three-headed Dragon (see drawing).  Every family needs that "strong" person, too.  A family protector.  The emotional anchor. The person who can make the sacrifice, take the hits and just keeps on coming at you.
   
  
• He also said every team needs someone who can make things (see drawing). Weapons. Swords.  Someone who can use a frying pan (it's not a shovel or a mushroom, Dad), a drill, or a chainsaw to make important stuff for the team. They might even "have telekinesis, Dad." This might be the family member who cooks the meals, fixes the backed-up toilet, or can assemble an 800-piece Lego set.
  
  
  
   
• Every team also needs someone "who can control people's minds," according to Will (see drawing).  What? They "can make little people like themselves and control them with their hat." I think, in more politically correct terms, this might be someone who can "influence" people to do what they want.  The talker. The peacemaker. The diplomat. Or if you're more sinister, quite possibly, Rush Limbaugh or Taylor Swift.
  
  
  
• And, every superhero team needs a leader.  Captain America. Someone who rallies the troops, sets the plan and leads them into battle.  Someone who has the final word -- and can use arrows and a fire sword to provide clear direction.
  
  
  

• And, this one may surprise you -- but it may be the most insightful point of all.  Every team needs a "weird guy," too.  Someone who is a little different, or maybe funny like stretchy Mr. Fantastic or "the Green Goblin. He is crazy and funny, Dad." Every team and family needs that person who brings something unique to the mix. That laid-back person who sees the humor in life, keeps everyone smiling and loose, and keeps life and battles in perspective. In most White Houses, I think we call that person Vice President.

It was a great conversation that I may visit again with Will.  He has more points of views on animal-based superheroes and super pets, he tells me.

I learned a good deal about superheroes, power and teamwork from my conversation with Will. And, I learned a whole lot about a little boy who may just be my superhero.

Leaving a thumbprint on your life

We all meet thousands of people in our lives. Some we encounter in fleeting moments. The man  we bump into while waiting in line for a burger.  The woman we talk to in line at the post office.  The retail person who helps us pick out the right gift for our wife. The contractor who spends weeks in our house painting and putting up walls. Their impressions on us may come and go like dust on a nightstand. Easily noticed, but quickly wiped away.

Other people spend more time in our lives. Family members. Classmates. Neighbors. Co-workers. People we meet on our daily commutes or at favorite watering holes.  These people usually leave more of an impression on us.  More than we may even realize.

The truth is there are many people in our lives who leave their thumbprint on us.  A mark that is there for life, but not noticed until you look for it.  They may have shaped our outlook on life; taught us skills we will always use; or provided comfort at a critical time.  They leave an indelible impression that we don't notice or appreciate until we are prompted to reflect.

This story is about my former co-worker and friend John, who passed away this week, and the thumbprint he left on me.

The Original News Junkie

John was  a newsman.  He spent many of his early years as a reporter and would fondly recount his days working for the United Press International (UPI) wire service to me.  It's where he got his discipline for writing and his passion for the media. He loved the news. Everything about it. John was the original news junkie.

The Original News Junkie

I met John many years after he left the newsroom, when he was a veteran PR guy for AT&T and I was a young pup still finding my way around corporate America.   John was a well-respected and beloved media relations pro and we became good friends when we both worked in the Corporate Media Relations office for AT&T spinoff Lucent Technologies.

When his daughter called me this week to let me know he had passed away, I thought about John and all the little ways he had helped make me who I am because of the man he was to me.  We hadn't talked in over a year, but ironically, the day before he died I was speaking about him to an executive I was coaching.

Here are three quick stories that tell you about John and the thumbprint he left on me.

1) Media Relations is about Relationships, Stupid.

I never saw anyone who was better at building a relationship with a reporter than John.  He was so affable and friendly. He knew reporters' birthdays, their kids' names, their dog's names, where they played golf, favorite sports teams, etc.  He made a connection. He knew that their professional relationship didn't have to be an adversarial one.  He had lived in a newsroom and knew that world -- the editorial pressures, the changing landscape, how to pitch (not spin).  He was a voracious reader and knew more about reporters and outlets than anyone I have met since.  He was someone every journalist respected and trusted.

Princess Telephone

You can do a lot of "good" media relations with a great story to tell, but try having a "no win" story to defend.  For years, John "owned" the AT&T -- and then Lucent -- Consumer Leasing beat.  Even after Lucent sold the business, the buyer contractually obligated us to continue handling the media relations.  The basic consumer leasing news story went something like this -- "Grandma passed away and her kids discovered she had been leasing her telephone from AT&T and its successor companies for 30 years even after law changes, technology and economics made this seem like lunacy.  The kids discover that Grandma spent $25,000 over her lifetime leasing a "Princess" phone that she could have bought for $25 from RadioShack."  Every consumer reporter's dream story.

John had the talking points and background down pat, and he would talk every reporter through it with credibility -- and without sounding like a heartless bastard.  In the best case, he would talk them out of writing a story.  More often than not, we were satisfied if John could just get our statement into the story -- which he usually did.

2) You're a Leader Now, So Sound Like One

John had seen me grow up as a fresh-faced kid from AT&T and so when I first got promoted to lead part of the Corporate Communications team at Lucent, I didn't know how he would react having to report to me.

The first day of the news, John walked into my new office, closed the door and said, "Let's talk."  He knew it was a tricky situation when your mentee now becomes your boss.  We had a candid talk about how things were going to work.  I had so much respect for him and needed his help, his insight, his support.  He respected me, liked me and was proud to see me get my new position.  We agreed to be very candid and open with each other.  And we also agreed that there would be times when I might make a decision that John wouldn't agree with and that would be my call.  If John had an issue, he respected me -- and my position enough -- to talk to me in private.

After my first big staff meeting, John came into my office, closed the door and put a piece of paper on my desk.  It had all these little check marks on it.  He looked at me. I said, "I don't get it, John. What is this?"

"That is how many times you said  'Ya know' and "Uhm' in your staff meeting." These were engrained verbal crutches that I didn't even notice or hear when I was nervously speaking to a crowd. His point was these people look up to you. If you're going to be a leader, then sound like one.

Today, people like to say feedback is a "gift" in some hokey, corporate posterized motto.  But, for John it really was a gift -- and that was how I received it.  After every staff meeting, I would come back to my office and find a piece of paper on my desk.  Fewer and fewer check marks.  It was our secret.  He made me aware of a weakness and held me accountable to work on it. That was a gift.

3) You have a job to do.  Be a professional

At one time, John and I worked for an amazing woman, Jane, whom we loved.  One day, quite surprisingly, Jane passed away .  We had literally seen her one day, and the next morning we came in to be told she had passed away over night.  It was a complete shock to the whole team.

John was a very dignified man and walked out of the room where we were told the news, and he went quietly back to his office. I went to his office to see how he was doing.

John was sitting at his computer, pounding the keys like it was an old typewriter from his UPI stringer days.  He was writing Jane's obituary and press release.  The message was clear, "This is horrible news, but we're professionals and we have a job to do for Jane and the company."  I pulled up a chair and sat with John as we worked on the obit.  John was the consummate pro.

What impressions will you leave?

Lots of people pass through our lives every day -- and we pass through theirs.  I hope I am leaving some good impressions, some lasting, positive thumbprints on others, the same way John did for me.  
 

    

Everyone Has A Commencement Speech To Give

Everyone has a commencement speech to give.  It sits in their head, or rests in their heart. 

Everyone has wisdom to impart, lessons to share, stories to tell, advice to give -- if only someone asked. 

Our Speaker Is...

Universities, colleges and other institutions tend to choose notable people from the community, distinguished alumni, reputable scholars or famous celebrities to deliver commencement addresses.  That makes sense.  These people should have loads of experience and advice -- or at least be entertaining. 

I like speechwriter Anthony Trendl's simple definition: 

"A commencement speech, simply, is an opportunity to share your experience, values and advice."

I have heard some very good speeches at commencements I attended.  My high school, St. Peter's Prep, always knew how to pick them. I have watched some on video because I appreciate a great speech -- and to this day I love Steve Jobs commencement address about three stories from his life (don't miss it). See some other classics in this collection on CNBC.

I have also heard some absolutely miserable commencement speeches where the only great lesson was "don't give a long, boring miserable speech in front of thousands of people."  At my college commencement, we had a revered Jesuit theologian who delivered the address.  I can't tell you what he said, but I know that after 38 minutes of talking (seriously), he took a deep, labored breath, sipped a drink of water, and said, "And, my second point..."  The restless crowd got ugly, grumbled loudly and he walked off before he could finish his next sentence.

I have also had the good fortune of speaking at two of my own graduations -- not to impart any wisdom as the commencement speaker, but to represent my classmates in our celebration.  What I remember most is the nerves I felt, the bravery it took and the fact that I will never again give another speech without a bottle of water within arm's reach.  At my high school graduation, I almost couldn't finish my well-rehearsed remarks (High School at Prep ... These four words encompass the most important and influential years of our lives ...).  My mouth dried up like a prune in the desert, getting smaller, drier and dysfunctional by the second.

The Ordinary People

So, my point is celebrities and scholars don't have the market cornered on great wisdom and good commencement speeches.  Anyone can do it, and there are great resources to show you how.  Check out this awesome blog, Graduation Wisdom, when you get the call.

I recently started thinking about the wisdom that rests with the more "ordinary" people I know.  People who haven't won awards, written books or made billions.  But, whose wisdom comes from perhaps a life of parenthood, hard knocks or inspirational courage. 

Why don't ordinary people get to give commencement addresses?   I think it is because they've never been asked.  

What would they say?  Now, that could be interesting.  So I decided to test my thinking.

First, I talked to my daughter Emma about this idea and explained to her what a commencement address was.  I asked her what valuable advice or lesson would she tell an audience.  "Always be honest" was her big message. "If you aren't honest with people, then they can never trust you or let you do anything."  Not bad for a kid.  She'll give a speech some day.

Then I thought I should ask one of the wisest people I know. My mom.

From Secretary to Saint -- and Some Stops in Between

How I picture Mr. Peterson

My mother started her career in business an an executive secretary at Harborside in Jersey City in the 1960s.  If you have known her for more than a day, you know this to be true and you have heard at least a dozen stories about her business career and her boss, Mr. Peterson, the president of Harborside's warehousing operations.  The fancy Manhattan lunches, run-ins with singers Robert Goulet and Liberace, yadda, yadda, yadda. I envision Mr. Peterson as the Don Draper of his day -- handsome, sharply dressed, three-martini lunch, Lucky Strikes kind of guy.  My mother was his indispensable secretary who knew everything, ran everything and was as discrete as could be.

She quit her job when my sister was born and she gained a lifetime of wisdom raising me and my sister.  Motherhood stories and lessons merit anyone a commencement speech in my book. 

When she went back to work in 1988, she became the office manager for a chiropractor in Jersey City.  She ran a tight ship, kept the whole staff -- including the doctor -- in line, and befriended anyone coming through those doors.  In 1996, she went to a local college (my alma mater) for a part-time job processing transcripts in the registrar's office.  She thought she would only be there temporarily, but 18 years later she is still there as the department secretary for the Modern and Classical Languages department.

Pearls of Wisdom

I sat down with my mother in my kitchen a few weeks ago and I asked her, "You've worked at a college for nearly 20 years. What would you want to tell those students if you had the chance to give a commencement address?  What advice would you give them as they head out into the real world if someone asked?"

First, Mom talked about her father, the greatest influence on her life.  "He believed in the Golden Rule. Treat everyone as you want to be treated." That was his belief system and how he lived his life.  He wasn't a religious man who attended church, but he had a firm sense of morality that showed in his kindness and respect for others.

Then, she talked about faith.  "Have faith in something."  Might be God. Might be religion. Might be some higher being.  But recognize and believe in something greater than yourself.  "My faith got me through terrible times."  She went through a hard times with her parents being sick when she was younger -- and then getting sick herself. It was faith in God and simple prayer that helped her get through it.

And, finally, believe in yourself and work for what you want.  "I am not the most positive thinker," says my  Irish mother who believes in Murphy's law. "But kids coming out of school have to believe in themselves and have confidence in their own abilities to get anywhere."  But don't get too haughty, or my mother will knock you down, too.  "You also need a strong work ethic and be willing to work from the bottom up.  Some kids today don't realize you have to pay your dues. That's how you learn."

Reactive Wisdom May Be The Best Kind

I teased my mother after our interview, saying that I thought she would have a lot more to say.  On most days, you can't get a word in edgewise with my mother.  A conversation in our family is just an interruption to her continuous stream of stories and gossip.

I said I thought she would have more stories to tell me, more profound wisdom to share.  "I have reactive wisdom," she said.  What was that?  "People come to me with their problems and I listen.  Then I tell them stories about my life that may have lessons for them. I react to what others tell me."  My father, married to my mother for nearly 50 years, nodded silently in agreement.

And, there you have it.  A commencement speech.  Shared experiences, values and advice from my mother.  And, all you had to do was ask.

The truth is everyone has a commencement speech to give.  What will your commencement speech be?

We Need "Back To School" Spirit for Adults

It's September and the kids are back in school.  The end of summer has been mourned, and in a millisecond the kids' sadness ends (okay, maybe a little longer for my son, Will). And, the excitement starts.

School supplies have been bought. Lockers have been filled. Books have been covered.  Schedules are set. Curiosity stirs. Fears are faced. Friendships formed.  Can you feel it?  

The truth is "back to school" is an amazing time. A great ritual.  And, in many ways, I envy my kids for that.  With the perspective and distance of a middle-aged father, I wish I could go back in time and recapture some of those feelings that my kids experience every September.  The truth is we need a "back to school" spirit for adults.  Wouldn't it be great?

What?  You don't think so?  How about this?  Here are five things that I miss about the Septembers of my childhood.

1) Butterflies

As a kid, do you remember the butterflies you would feel a few days before school?  It was scary, but mostly good nerves and excitement.

For kids, nerves can be terrifying, but they are also so exciting, special and energizing every September.

You had so many questions.  You were worried about the unknown, but looking forward to the answers.  Who would my teacher be?  Who was coming back to school?  Was Algebra really as hard as my sister said? Would I make the team this year?

And, oh my gosh, if you were starting a new school, the butterflies became condors.

I went to an all-boys high school known for its Jesuits, academics and discipline.  I was a skinny, four-eyed freshman in my first gym class one September with about 50 other freshman -- and I had butterflies.

Our gym teacher was a stern, no-nonsense mountain of a man. A marine and All-American who had been a legend at the school for 30 years.  He kept everyone in line with a hard stare and sharp one-liners.  The first day, he lined us all up across the gym floor and told us to stand at attention. He stood on the balcony near his office, clipboard in hand,and he laid down the law.  My butterflies started to move.  The nerves and whatever breakfast I ate started to stir in my stomach.  I looked around anxiously.  I dashed out of line to the nearest garbage can, threw up quickly and ran back to my spot in line without skipping a beat.  I was over the butterflies and ready.  [The gym teacher had a heart and never said a word. He'd probably seen it a thousand times before :)]

For an adult, butterflies don't have that same fun, exciting edge.  Butterflies become ulcers.  They might linger, require acute medical attention or years of therapy.

I think about when I have started new jobs.  That's sort of like back to school.  Same thing, right? While it can bring on some similar nerves, I haven't found those nearly as comforting or exciting as back to school days. And you certainly pray you're not experiencing those "new job" butterflies every September.

2) Shopping sprees

As a kid, every September came with new sneakers (Converse) or shoes (Does anyone remember wallabees?).  A new school uniform and bookbag (nothing like the backpacks today).  A shopping cart at KMart full of spiral notebooks, theme paper, Bic pens, Dixon Ticonderoga pencils -- and maybe even a hazardous compass to stick in your friend's leg during recess.

For adults, the "annual" shopping spree gives way to car payments, mortgages and kids' orthodontia. My wardrobe looks pretty much the same as it did ^%*^% years ago (just ask my wife), and my supplies come from my assistant's file cabinet at the office.  And, if I am lucky, I am not "growing" out of my uniform every year.

3) Reunions

For kids, every September is a reunion.  After a few months off on summer adventures, they come back together to swap stories and bond over whose parents are becoming more annoying.They are so excited to see one another.  The girls squeal at each other. The boys wrestle each other.  All is well.  Sleepovers ensue and the school year drama begins.

As an adult, the reunions are less often, less exciting and more complicated.

At school reunions years later, there are all the awkward moments. "Are you sure we were in the same class as me?  I don't remember you at all."  ... Calling people by the wrong name for 10 minutes because you were sure he was Jim -- only to find out later that  he was always called Mahesh.  Your wife who didn't go to school with you rolls her eyes all night and looks at her watch as she hears the story about the big game when some guy nicknamed Smoothy hit the big shot or when Boomer's house got wrecked while his parents were away in Bermuda.  The inevitable judgments and comparisons of who has lost more hair, gained more pounds, had more kids, made more money.

Then there's impromptu reunions with friends from school that you try to arrange. You spend months juggling work commitments, kids schedules, and finding babysitters to set up a weekend -- or maybe just a dinner -- to "reunite" with the old crew from high school or college.  You're so exhausted by the time the day arrives  you can barely keep your eyes open past 10 pm.  And, so you drink, eat and talk about the work commitments, kids schedules and the new babysitter.



4)  Clean slates

As a kid, every September comes with a clean slate.  There are no grades on your report card. You get a fresh start.

This is the year that I am going to get straight A's.  This is the year that I will beat out Hillary for student council.  This is the year I will get the lead in the school play or show off that new jump shot I spent 2,000 hours working on over the summer. This is the year, my teeth are straight, my skin is clear and my contact lenses are in -- I may have exited that "awkward stage" as my mother would call it and she won't hide the class pictures in a drawer.  This is the year, I might have the nerve to ask Amy to the prom.

As an adult, clean slates are a lot harder to come by.  Situations, habits, perceptions and grudges change a lot more slowly as we get older.  We think New Year's Day can be our clean slate every year, but it never has the same effect as the first day of school.

5) Safety nets

Every September, no matter how the first day went, you could count on a reassuring word, a comforting hug and some delicious ice cream from Mom and Dad.  Whether you were devastated by missing the school bus or excited by being elected class representative, your parents were home, wanting to hear every word. They could make everything alright, or so it seemed.  You always had a safety net at home.


As an adult, life's safety nets may not always be as sturdy and the problems may have a bit more of a sting.

But somewhere your mother is waiting for that phone call.  She has a quart of Breyer's in the freezer in case you come by. And she has a ready ear, a clear solution and hours of stories when the same thing happened to "your Aunt Matilda's son Jim's granddaughter Lucy who lives in Bayonne down near St. Andrew's.  You met her at Uncle Jim's funeral when you were six...  Do you remember her?"

Ahh, the Septembers of my childhood.  To have that "back to school" spirit again.