Alexandersmap

    Month: March 2020

    • Simplify, Now Seems A Good Time

      “In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds.  Simplify, simplify.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      Thoreau would be shocked at the busy-ness of 2020 versus compared to the thousand-and-one items in the middle of the 19th century. The world has other plans for us every year, but especially this year. The gods (or God if you will) laugh(s) at plans we make, no matter how well-intentioned, and we all learn to adjust on the fly. That’s life in a normal year, amplified by the madness that is 2020. With apologies to all the experts on Twitter and talking heads everywhere, in this madness, I look to poetry, to stoic philosophy, and to Thoreau for a level-set. Thoreau’s advice to simplify resonates. Granted, it’s a bit late in the game for a cabin in the woods, but to step back a bit and re-assess. Simplify. Now more than ever.

      “The overwhelming reality is: we live in a world where almost everything is worthless and a very few things are exceptionally valuable. As John Maxwell has written, “You cannot overestimate the unimportance of practically everything.” – Greg McKeown, Essentialism

    • An Abundance Of Caution

      I’m not an alarmist, I deliberately avoid watching the hand-wringing news and for the most part I’m not in a high risk category when it comes to coronavirus,or COVID-19. I’ve always been a “hand washer” and I can time the process of washing them with Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star just fine, thank you (instead of that mind worm I use the beginning of Fly Me To The Moon, which conveniently reaches 20 seconds right when you reach the word “hand”). But I’m taking coronavirus seriously.

      I’ve previously mocked people who hoard dust masks (which won’t work), Purell (which may work but won’t protect everyone that can’t get any because of the hoarders), and toilet paper (which is proven to work but how much do you really need anyway?) and will continue to do so. We don’t need self-absorbed behavior right now. We need self-aware behavior; Be prepared, be considerate, be scarce for awhile if necessary. I have enough food to camp at home for a couple of weeks if the same travel restrictions imposed on Italy are imposed on the United States. Contingency plans aren’t panicky or hoarding behavior, just as building a nest egg for retirement is expected one might expect people to have a bit of food ready if needed.

      One phrase, Legal and PR Department-approved, seems to be taking hold as the world reacts to the spread of COVID-19: “Out of an abundance of caution” [fill in with cancellation or new procedure here]. Out of an abundance of caution we’re postponing this trade show. Out of an abundance of caution we’ve temporarily switched from ceramic coffee mugs to disposable cups. Out of an abundance of caution we’ve cancelled all visitor meetings. Out of an abundance of caution we are extending college Spring Break by a week … or in some case, out of an abundance of caution all students will take online classes for the rest of the semester.

      Cancelling the rest of in-class participation for the rest of the semester is an extraordinary step, but logical when your student population consists of a high percentage of people from around the globe. I feel for those students having their very expensive college experience cut short, but I’m a student of history and recognize the devastation a pandemic or plague can cause. Humans have one major predator left in this world besides other humans, and that’s viruses. On the plus side we’ve never been more aware of how to fight this predator, but getting all spun up isn’t helping anything. The world and coronavirus doesn’t owe you anything: deal with it like an adult.

      There’s plenty of examples of taking an abundance of caution too far (I’m looking at you toilet paper hoarder), but it’s a reasonable request to take extra measures now to safeguard against an uncontainable pandemic later. So as we all look around at this strange new reality, make the most of it; work to contribute more to the positive direction of humanity with all that extra time at home instead of binge watching television or 24-hour news. Take walks outside away from the crowds. The world could use a little more sanity right about now. I believe that starts with you and me, kiddo. Ready?

    • That Which Is Around Us

      “I am what is around me.” – Wallace Stevens, Theory

      We build the world around us, surrounding ourselves with things and people that reinforce for us that image in our minds. Believe you’re a hiker? Go to the mountains and be one. Sailor? Get a boat or crew in someone else’s. Runner? Get some good running shoes and hit the pavement again and again until it becomes your identity. Writer? Write every day: immerse yourself in the Great Conversation, pull in all that is around you like a warm blanket on a cold night and share it with the world.

      I heard about the death of a friendly acquaintance last night. He was larger than life in some ways, but fragile from years of abusing his body. He would drink too much, love too many, drive too fast and talk even faster, but he had a good heart and it showed in how he treated those around him. He lived the work hard, play hard mantra more than anyone I’ve ever met. I learned not to keep up with him drinking, to drive separately when going to meetings, and to keep pace when it came to work. I was just in his town last week but decided not to call him, thinking I didn’t have the time. It turns out I only had that time.

      We are what is around us. Jimmy surrounded himself with a lifestyle that killed him young, but was as fully alive as anyone I’ve met. We don’t get to choose everything that happens in our lives, but in our daily habits we slowly build up and reinforce our image of ourselves and what we might become. Ultimately it’s all just a story in our mind, and like any story you can choose to send it in another direction at any time. But you can’t turn a tragic-comedy into an action-adventure or a romance novel easily. Sometimes you’ve got to scrap the entire first draft and start writing a new book.

      As a nod to Jimmy, I’ll work to be more alive in the moment, but with a lot less vodka. I’ll work hard in my career and play hard at healthier activities than he chose. Like Jimmy I’ll beam in pride at my kids, but will try to lead by example that the things you surround yourself with in this one precious life matter much more than you might think. Those things either hold you up or press you down, so choose wisely. Thanks for the reminder Jimmy.

    • Make No Small Plans

      “Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remember that our sons and our grandsons are going to do things that would stagger us. Let your watchword be order and your beacon beauty.” – Daniel Burnham

      I sat in a line of cars waiting for a light to change to green to release the compliant flock to pastures beyond. The Jeep in front of me had a vanity plate with “YOLO” and what I’d guess was their age when they bought the Jeep. YOLO is a trendy acronym nowadays, and part of me is glad to see it. Not the self-absorbed Instagram look-at-me–selfie! YOLO, but the what will you do with this one precious life YOLO.

      What I like about the Burnham quote is that it gets to the heart of it; what is your contribution going to be? Will it inspire current and future generations or will it sink into the abyss of anonymous whispers? Look, a ripple is a ripple just the same, but what if you could make a real splash while you’re here? Seems like a nice way to cap a life.

      Daniel Burnham was a force of nature back in his time, with his architectural firm designing projects as diverse and continually fascinating as the Flatiron Building in New York and The White City for the Chicago World’s Fair. As a diabetic, he suffered health issues later in his life. He famously learned about the death of his friend Francis Millet when he attempted to reach him with a telegraph as Burnham was sailing east on the SS Olympic while Millet was sailing west on the Titanic. Burnham would also die that year, though less dramatically. By all accounts he lived a large life, filled with big projects that echo across the landscape and our imagination today. I’d guess Burnham, as in his own time, might shake his head at the transactional nature of many projects built designed today, but wonder in awe at the scope of others.

      So what of our own plans? Will their scope awe our grandchildren or will we be a curiosity, a relay runner who once passed the baton to another runner who passed it to them in the short sprint through life? Our sons and daughters and grandchildren will do things that would stagger us. Hell, they already are. That is as it should be. So what is your own magic that stirs the blood of those around you? Make no small plans.

    • Acorns and All

      The farm through the woods lets the horses loose to run, and I love being outside when it happens; seeing them flash through the trees as they gallop up the hill. This time of year, when the trees between us stand dormant and naked, it’s easy to see them as they run. When the leaves fill in the flash fades from view but I’ll often hear them whinnying to each other and I’m left imagining their joyful charge. When the horses run I’m reminded why I stay in this place.

      The snow is long gone in Southern New Hampshire. All that’s left now is the fallen branches and a million acorns from a bumper crop that fell relentlessly last November. March brings cleanup work and assessment of damage done. Raking those acorns up yesterday I watched the moon rising above the trees. The moon seemed in a hurry to get above it all, and her progress was better than my acorn cleanup. But eventually I got it done, feeling a bit better about the state of things outside. Other neighbors without oak trees don’t have to deal with acorns, but I’ll take the oak trees and live with the trade-off, thank you. It felt good to be outside doing something anyway. I just wish they would be a bit less giving in return.

      Woodpeckers duel for loudest drumbeat on trees out in the woods, and the Mourning Doves sing their sad songs to each other. Their population seems to be increasing at a pace similar to the wild turkeys that roam the woods and spill over into the yard now and then. A mild winter seems to have helped the local wildlife. I know that means the tick population will thrive as well. The human population of Southern New Hampshire grows as developers snap up open space. Maybe the wildlife is just being pushed closer because their natural habitat is shrinking. Hard for me to tell for sure, but it seems related. I know the woods will remain protected but I wonder about the horse farm. I’ll know it’ll be time to move when they develop it. I have no patience for encroachment but I’m a realist. Unchecked development will change this place too. I’m grateful for the good, put up with the bad and wonder about the world as we try to mold it to fit our needs. For my part I’ll keep the oak trees, acorns and all, and hope whoever settles here after me has the same sense of wonder about the world around us.

    • Five Mornings of Watching the World Go Mad

      “I live
      in the open mindedness
      of not knowing enough
      about anything.”
      – Mary Oliver, Luna

      I woke up early, restless and ready to move on from this place at 4:30 AM.  I get like this sometimes.  It’s the fifth morning I’ve woken up in a different place, this time I slept in Poughkeepsie, New York.  This town has meaning for me; I once slept in my car near the boathouse at Marist College back when it didn’t seem like a big thing to do such things.  I’d taken one look around the full boathouse we were all going to sleep in and opted for quiet over shared suffering.  Come to think of it, I still steer in that direction.

      In a week of accelerating news stories about Presidential campaigns and Coronavirus, I’ve been operating under the cloak of business travel.  I gave up on trying to find a bottle of hand sanitizer after the fourth store clerk shrugged and talked of orders pending.  A woman in Glens Falls told me “the virus is close now, with confirmed cases in New York City and Albany”.  It feels too much like a scene in a movie for me.  I just want to have my hands not smell like gasoline after I fill up the car, but I guess I’ll need to ration what I have left in my travel bottle.  The world goes mad sometimes, and Coronovirus has kicked the hoarder’s nest.

      I have more travel in the next couple of weeks, and candidly I thought about cancelling some of it.  Not because I’m an alarmist, but because I’m a pragmatist.  Who needs the drama of flights and edgy fellow travelers around you?  Who needs the potential lockdown of a city I happen to be in at the time?  I love the ocean but I’m just not hopping on a cruise ship right now, thank you.  I saw World War Z, I know what happens when the virus rips through a plane full of people.  I’m not Brad Pitt, there’s no way I’d survive that.

      All this comes up when you wake up at 4:30 on the fifth morning of business travel.  I didn’t feel this way Monday morning in Buffalo, or Tuesday in Rochester.  I had some trepidation in Syracuse on Wednesday but felt great about the world on Thursday in Saratoga Springs.  Then again, it’s hard not to feel like the world is a beautiful place when you spend a little time in Saratoga Springs.  Which brings me to Poughkeepsie, on the shores of the Hudson River.  I once jumped in the frigid Hudson right about this time in March back as a freshman in college too many years ago after we won a race.  At the time that seemed the logical thing to do.  Sort of like buying all the Purell at the local pharmacy just in case you need it when Coronavirus madness starts going down.  Sometimes we get inspired by the odd behavior of those around us.  And that’s why I don’t watch the news or hang out with large groups of angry people.

      Look, I don’t know enough about Coronavirus to know whether traveling the next two weeks is a good idea or not.  On the surface it seems better to just stay home and let things play out.  But I’m a traveler at heart, and if everyone else stays home I may just have a little more virus-free air to breath.  I do know I’ve really improved my hand-washing skills, and I try not to touch my face with my hands.  I don’t mind when someone doesn’t want to shake hands, but I don’t shrink back in horror when they offer their hand in greeting.  I mean, that’s what Purell is for…  if you can find any.

      This all seems a little smug, and I apologize for that.  I’m taking a potential pandemic very seriously, but I don’t watch the news and I don’t hoard dust masks, vodka and Purell (maybe a little rum).  I think the best thing we can do is be a little diligent with our personal hygiene, stay out of crowded indoor places, and give those who might be a little vulnerable a little distance in case you have the virus and don’t know it.  If things spiral into madness tap into your water heater for drinking water and carbo load on rice.  All that is unsolicited advice from someone figuring it out like you are.  The only thing I’m sure about is that you really should wash your hands better.

    • The Sometimes Saucy Pedantic Wretch

      I was presenting a PowerPoint slide translated from German to English Tuesday, wrapped up our meeting and was discussing a few key points when a woman next to me quietly yet publicly slid a piece of paper across the table to me. It seems there was a typo on one of the slides and she was helping me out by pointing out the incorrectly spelled word next to the correctly spelled word underlining the misplaced “a” in “intuitive” and the correct “i”. Yup, I saw it immediately, laughed and thanked her. Sometimes you see things that bug you so much that you won’t hear anything else in the entire meeting, and that happened to her.

      I understand where she’s coming from. I fight pedantic tendencies myself and understood her need to fix something that clearly needed fixing. That she did it in front of the group in the meeting might have angered some, but for me it was a chance to laugh about it. I stopped worrying about such things years ago, and I was presenting other people’s material so how could I take it personally? But I immediately corrected the slide so it wouldn’t happen again (Never allow distractions to linger in your presentations).

      I rarely use the word “pedantic” in a sentence. And I certainly wouldn’t ever combine words like “saucy pedantic wretch” into a phrase, but when I saw the three linked together in a poem I smiled. I mean, who does that? See there? My own pedantic tendencies flaring up. Anyway, I plucked these words out of a John Donne poem called The Sun Rising because they leap off the screen in a magical swirl just as they likely did for Donne as he put pen to paper writing them.

      When someone uses the word “pedantic” or “wretch” they’re flagged in some circles as aloof. In this world of hipster speak who uses old dead guy words? Then again, the person lacing their sentence with clever words may well pity us our grasp of the English language. But a firm grasp of vocabulary can be either a gift or a verbal Heisman pushing people away: it’s all in how you use it. As I clumsily stumble along learning a bit of the French language I’m reminded to be more humble with the English language. It was clever for the muse to slip that Donne poem into my reading this morning. It got me thinking that, sure, sometimes I might be a saucy pedantic wretch too. But I have a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor about it. Ever since I read that poem I find myself swirling those words together like a tropical drink. And so I offer a toast to wretches everywhere.

    • Old Fort Johnson

      There’s beauty in serendipity, especially when traveling.  Yesterday afternoon while driving from Rochester, New York to Saratoga Springs, New York Waze sent me off the highway onto Route 67, which is a shortcut that cuts off a good chunk of highway.  The drawback of course is that you’re on back country roads in farm country, but I haven’t met an off-the-beaten-path route that I didn’t want to try anyway.  As a history buff I’ve long circled Old Fort Johnson as a place to visit.  It’s hard to hear the whispers of history when you’re blowing by at highway speeds, so having Waze take me off the highway less than three miles from this historic site seemed, well, serendipitous.

      Here’s the thing, small historical sites like Old Fort Johnson aren’t open year-round.  I’ve experienced this many times over in my travels, but you make the most of the opportunities fate throws your way.  The site is open to walk around, and I stepped gingerly in my dress shoes around the main house doing my best to avoid mud on a wet afternoon.  Sure, I could’ve put on my hiking shoes, which were sitting right in the car, but why dabble in logic when the ghosts are calling?  I walked across the bridge onto the mowed lawn surrounding the historic house, touched the limestone walls and felt the vibration of the colonial history…  or maybe it was the Amtrak train roaring down the tracks between the house and the Mohawk River.

      Okay, this was a quick stop, and not as meaningful for me as visits to battlefields or the homes of poets and writers.  But still meaningful.  This site was where William Johnson settled in a place he called Mount Johnson.  He was a fur trader and as such became friendly with the Iroquois, eventually building enough wealth and influence to be quite a power broker in the wilderness of Upstate New York.  When hostilities with the French broke out, he led the local militia as a Major General and was Commander when the French were defeated at the Battle of Lake George and other monumental victories at Fort Niagara and in Montreal.  In defeating the French at these three key sites, the British would control the waterways to the interior and forever evict the French from New York.

      This large home that Johnson built would eventually be passed on to his son John and other members of the Johnson family.  But here’s where things took a turn.  The Johnson family were Loyalists, and with the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, they chose to fight on the British side just as the Iroquois did.  When the British lost, they were evicted from New York, just as the Iroquois were.  There’s a profound sadness in the history of this place.  Where once there was a thriving collaboration between the Johnson’s and the Native Americans, there was now a void, still felt to this day.  Be careful which side you choose, for you may lose everything you’ve built for yourself in the process.  The house remains a monument to a greater glory, and to all that was lost in the next generation.

    • The Abnormal Climb

      “You can’t be normal and expect abnormal results.” – Naval Ravikant

      There’s nothing wrong with normal; the pursuit of normal usually offers you an average, lovely life. But if you want to be ultra-wealthy or a washboard abs model or win the Olympics or be an astronaut or a Nobel Peace Prize winner, well, be abnormal. They don’t just give space suits to the guy ahead of you at Starbucks. Unless that guy is a Navy pilot with a Masters in Astrophysics anyway, and even then his odds aren’t great. Nope, be different than the billions of people marching through life…. or embrace the beauty of average. We all have that choice.

      I’ve dabbled in the pursuit of excellence in athletics, and frankly I opted out early. Pursue Olympic-level rowing? Thought I’d give it a try. Learned quickly that it was a very steep and long climb. I opted to be a big fish in a smaller pond. Regrets? I’ve had a few. Pursuing elite rowing isn’t one of them. I’ve known several Olympians over the years, one rowed out of the same boathouse as me. She won a silver medal! Olympians seem average on the surface, there’s an abnormal core there – a focus, that I deeply admire. But I knew it wasn’t me.

      We all want to be excellent at something, if we’re lucky we figure out quickly what we shouldn’t attempt to excel in. Sometimes great or pretty good still sets us up for an exceptional life. I was a pretty good rower back in my time, but not willing to do the “abnormal” work needed to be world class. I smile thinking about the lecture I heard from the National Team Coach emphatically telling a friend and me that the work needed was far beyond what we were doing at the time (and we were very fit). I appreciated his time and candor, assessed my willingness to execute on the plan and opted out. In a different pond I might have pushed through, but the pond I was in seemed good enough.

      “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.” – Mark Twain

      This quote on the surface is funny (or scary in this political climate), but peel back a layer and there’s truth in the message. In the context of pursuing the abnormal there’s magic in Mark’s clever quip. Find your unique path, work hard and be excellent at it. Don’t be the majority, be something more. I’ve long since hung up the oar, but hey, maybe the writing will take off. At the very least I owe it to myself to become a better writer. There’s honor in the pursuit of excellence, even if we never reach it. Somebody once said that “never” is a belief, it doesn’t have to be shackles. I saw that in rowers who accepted the same challenge I opted out of who eventually wore Olympic hardware.

      “Blah, blah, blah, blah. DO THE WORK.” – Jocko Willink

      At some point you get tired of regurgitating excuses and you find something to be singularly focused on pursuing. We’re all running out of time, get up and do something already. Balance is important but it’s also an excuse. Prioritize, focus and do the work. Want to be a writer? Do the work? Ab model? Do the work. Olympic athlete? Do. The. Work. We arrive at excellence by what we focus on, and by what we say no to along the way. The day offers the same opportunity for all of us living in a free society, so why exhaust that day coming up with excuses for why you didn’t do something? Get fit, work abnormally hard at your chosen craft, whether writing or astronaut or parent, be consistently, abnormally doing the work, and you’ll reach a level of excellence – or at the very least, be well above average. Seems a worthwhile climb after all.

    • Poetry in Plumbing

      Where does poetry live?

      In the eye that says, “Wow wee,”
      In the overpowering felt splendor
      Every sane mind knows
      When it realizes—our life dance
      Is only for a few magic
      Seconds,

      From the heart saying,
      Shouting,
      “I am so damn
      Alive.”
      – Hafiz, “Wow“

      This morning I assessed the third different shower I’ll use this week. This one was different from the others. Upgraded to a suite for the sole reason that I stay in hotels too much, I walked into a massive room. I’ve written about this experience before, I’ll never use the space and don’t welcome it when I see it. But the shower… the shower I welcomed. It was built like a water park ride that you walk into in a labyrinth of walls and tile. Once inside you’re greeted by a network of plumbing protruding from the walls: huge rain shower head, massage jets on the right and left sides, and a variety of levers to control the whole thing. This was no ordinary shower, and the volume of water used in a shower negated all the towel re-using of the rest of the hotel combined. And it was amazing. I laughed to myself as I was blasted on three sides by pressurized water. What a way to start the day!

      Life is in the moments of wonder and the everyday.  Live every moment in awe of the dance we’re all blessed to participate in, or complain about the things that aren’t perfect in our lives.  Tonight I’ll move into another hotel with (no doubt) a lesser shower. It’ll be back to reality, but for this morning, I was king of the travel world.  So damn alive!  I should’ve booked two nights.  Wow wee…