"I don't like nuts" means I don't want nuts on my #$&$&# sundae

I don't like nuts.  Never have.  Never will.  I don't like the taste.  Don't like the smell. Don't like the texture.  I don't like nuts.

Not peanuts.  Not walnuts.  Not almonds.  Not macadamias.  Not pecans.

While I have been known occasionally to grab a handful of cashews, that doesn't really count. I still hate NUTS!

And for the longest time, people never took me seriously. Long before the nut allergy frenzy that we live in today, people dismissed not "liking" something as trivial.

Scars Run Deep

I can remember being out for dinner with my girlfriend in college back in the early '90s.  We were at Houlihan's in Weehawken on the waterfront at the peak of its popularity.  The crowds were crazy.  Thousands of people on a weekend night.  It was always packed.

We had enjoyed a nice dinner, and I decided to order an ice cream sundae to cap it off.  I asked the waiter if the sundae had nuts, and he said it did.  So, I explained that I didn't really like nuts and didn't want any on my sundae. "No problem, sir," he said, as he looked around the restaurant at all the beautiful patrons and potential big tippers.

"No nuts? No problem!"

I had fallen for this before.  It's "no problem" until the waiter forgets, the guy in the kitchen makes the standard sundae. and I am left sitting there biting into nuts when all I wanted was some nice ice cream.  Blech!

So, I stopped the waiter who seemed a bit distracted and said, "Seriously, I hate nuts, so please make sure there aren't any on my sundae."  He chuckled like this was a silly question and said, "No problem."

You know what happens next.  Sure enough, my chocolate sundae comes out, gets placed on the table in front of me and BINGO!  Walnuts splattered all over my sundae.  Aaarrgghh!

The truth is .... people don't take "not liking" something seriously.

Upping the Ante

Flash forward a few years later.  I was at a  restaurant on Long Beach Island with a bunch of friends.  We had enjoyed a nice dinner and I decided to order a brownie sundae.  Now a brownie sundae is very tricky.  At least with a regular sundae the walnuts are on top.  With a brownie sundae, you don't know what you've got in there until you bite into that brownie -- and you wind up with crunchy nuts in your mouth and it ruins your entire meal.

I had gotten older and wiser since Houlihan's, so this time when I asked for my brownie sundae from the waiter I decided to up the ante. I asked him if the brownie had nuts in it.  He said he didn't think so in a dismissive, "why does it matter, dude" type of tone.

I stopped the waiter and said with a meaningful pause, "Can you check because I am DEATHLY ALLERGIC to nuts."

I don't know what made me say "deathly allergic" that night. It may have been the scars of countless other waiters who dismissed my comment about hating nuts, not liking nuts, not wanting nuts, etc.  It may have been the joking, good mood we were all in that night.  I may have just tossed it out there as a social experiment.

The waiter brought out the brownie sundae.  Three scoops of chocolate ice cream topped with a mountain of whip cream and chocolate syrup .  All of it sitting on one of those gigantic TollHouse chocolate chip cookie brownies.  It was beautiful.
I gave the brownie a skeptical look.  My friends joked about  nuts being in the brownie, having never heard me say I was deathly allergic before.  As I was about to dive in, the young waiter came flying out of the kitchen, tripping over himself a la Jack Tripper from Three's Company, and grabbed my plate.  Apparently, his boss told him the brownie had nuts.

Finally, people paid attention.  It didn't matter if you spent years politely saying you hated nuts or didn't like nuts.  If you wanted their attention, say you're "deathly allergic."

I used this statement many more times over the years and I never had an issue with my desserts. It became a running joke with my family and friends.

The Joke Is On Me

Several years later, however, my wife Elena and I were visiting some very good friends in London and we went to a posh restaurant for dinner. Once again, we enjoyed a great dinner and I decided to cap it off with brownie sundae.  I asked the waiter about nuts in the brownies, and I told him I was DEATHLY ALLERGIC to nuts.

Now, this wasn't Houlihan's or some 18 year-old waiter in LBI.  This was the big leagues.  And as we sat there, I noticed a cluster of waiters and staff gathering in a corner of the restaurant, talking in whispers and looking in our direction.  Finally, the maitre d' came over.

"Sir, the waiter told me that you are allergic to nuts.  May I ask if you are feeling okay?" he said.  "I feel fine," I replied.

The maitre d' then explained to me that they were very concerned and were about to call an ambulance because the fish I had eaten was encrusted in NUTS. Ooops.  It tasted delicious.  Who knew!

I apologized profusely to the maitre d' and explained that I wasn't exactly allergic, blah, blah, blah.  Needless to say, my wife and friends were ready to kill me for causing such a scene -- and my  "fatal" allergy was miraculously cured -- forever.

As proof that God has a sense of humor -- or maybe a sense of irony -- today I have a wonderful six-year old son named Will. Cutest kid you'll ever see. Will is allergic -- SERIOUSLY allergic -- to nuts ... to shellfish ... and to all sorts of things.  Times have changed. Waiters will fall all over you when you utter the word allergies nowadays in a restaurant. And, I carry my bag of Will gear with me whenever we go out on the weekends -- epi-pen, inhaler -- whatever we might need.  I don't really like to put the words "death" and "allergies" in the same sentence any more -- unless I am telling a story about me being an ass.  ;)    

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?

I Wish We All Were Morning Persons

This morning -- after two weeks of getting back into the school routine with the kids -- I shared an observation with my wife, Elena (She really loves my observations -- especially in the morning when she is in the midst of packing lunches, dispensing inhalers and serving Cinnabons).

I told her, "In my experience, there are clearly two types of people in this world.  Those who wake up in the morning, get all their jobs done, and then relax until they need to leave ... and those who wake up in the morning, relax a bit, and then race to get all their jobs done before they have to run out the door."

"Good Morning, Good Morning, to You..."

You can probably guess that I am in the first category. As Sutton Foster likes to sing -- and now Emma serenades me with, too -- "I've always been a morning person."  For those, who like the classics, you can enjoy Gene Kelly, Deb Reynolds and Donald O'Connor here.

I have always been someone who likes to get the unpleasant stuff out of the way first and then get my reward. I eat all my corn first, so I can enjoy that delicious steak and butter-soaked baked potato as the last prize on my taste buds.  I'd rather unpack the car, the bags, etc., before I crash on the couch. Exercise before I eat the Dunkin Donuts Boston Kreme.

A delayed reward brings greater satisfaction in my mind.  You get all those other nuisances out of the way and enjoy yourself with a clear conscience.

That is my thinking, but I know it's not universal -- as evidenced by our morning family routine.

Up and At 'Em

On a weekday morning, I will get out of bed after one hit on the snooze.  I hit the shower, get dressed and do the first round of wake-up calls upstairs.  Then I feed the dog, let her out, start the breakfast prep for the kids, clear out the dishwasher, go back upstairs for the second round of wake-ups -- and then I am done.

I could throw on my coat, jump in the car and head to the office in the next second.  So, now, I get my reward. I can take a deep breath, watch Tom & Jerry with the kids, and read the newspapers on my iPad.



This drives my wife crazy.  Don't you think?

She gets up about a half hour later than me.  She checks her email in bed, makes sure everyone's clothes are laid out and brings our son Will downstairs for breakfast. She makes the kids lunches and checks that their backpacks are loaded.  Class notes and instructions (Bus rider ... car rider ... dance class ... volleyball, blah, blah, blah) are conveyed to our sleepy-eyed crew who stumble downstairs in various states of grumpiness.  Somewhere in between all this, Elena goes back upstairs to gets herself dressed for work, settle any bathroom wars between Emma and Tess, and comes back down to eat her own breakfast.

Training The Kids 

My son Will is being trained to understand his dad's wisdom.  He finishes his breakfast, brushes his teeth, gets dressed and tries to spend some time on the XBox without anyone bothering him.  Tess generally gets up, dressed and stays locked in her room until I complete a few yells to get in the car (or unless she feels the need to battle with Emma).  Emma, meanwhile, lopes downstairs, nice and relaxed and goes quietly through her routine.

On weekends, it's a whole different ballgame.  Saturday is "live and let live" day. No wake-up calls.  No orders.  Dad can get up at 7 a.m. and do whatever crazy routine he has -- and Emma snooze until noon.  On Sundays, we invoke "Sunday rules."  No one can turn on a TV, XBox or iPad until they are up, fed, cleaned, dressed and ready for church (this means socks and shoes on -- see this post on the Sockless Life).

I could argue until I am blue in the face why "my way is better" -- (and my wife might argue you that I don't do half of what I described myself doing on a weekday morning).  That is not the point, people. :)

The truth is ... people are wired one way or the other.  You're either a bounce out of bed, bring it on, morning person.  Or, you're an ease me into my day, what is the rush, person.

It can make for some bumpy mornings when these two worlds collide -- but peaceful coexistence is the basic goal... maybe one day a week.