Real Joe

Doonesbury’s comic strip for Monday (Mike’s daughter confuses the business section for the crime pages) came alive in our local StarTribune’s business section earlier this week. The four stories on one page:

WorldCom charged with fraud
Martha Stewart shares tumble, fueled by probe
Supervalu shares slide following accounting revelation
Piper Jaffray fined $300,000

And as thiseditorial details, “The tally of shame grows: Tyco, Enron, QWest, Dynegy, Adelphia, Arthur Andersen, Global Crossings, Bermuda tax shelters, Imclone, Martha Stewart, conflicted Merrill Lynch stock analysts, obscenely greedy executives gorging themselves as companies hemorrhage losses.”

It’s true, business scandals span generations, as this sidebar explains. But this article nails it, IMHO: the roles of investors, big and small, as well as the media coverage, has contributed a helluva lot to the culture that fosters the unethical business practices. “Few cared how much the CEO was paid when stock prices were rising, and anybody who questioned a company’s sales or profits was shouted down by shareholders who believed the “New Economy” had made traditional accounting rules obsolete.”

The tiny little investment club that I belong to, mostly made up of inexperienced investors like me, got caught up in the high tech frenzy like millions of others. Yes, we’d acknowledge the importance of “solid management” but twenty percent annual growth was really what we were looking for. We were fortunate that Enron disintegrated before we got around to buying it. So it’s easy to lampoon the fat cats. Not so easy to look in the mirror.

Funny coincidence tonight. My wife Robbie and I were having beer on the outdoor patio at The Contented Cow and we ran into some friends we hadn’t seen in a while. They brought along a college student who’s been staying with them — and it turns out that it’s her brother’s memorial that I visit frequently in Carleton College’s lower Arb — my listening/contemplation place. I blogged this memorial on May 13 and May 14 and included some photos. The college had just burned the prairie grass surrounding it back then, and now of course, it’s lush green, with wildflowers exploding everywhere.

I got her email address and sent her the links to these blog entries. I wrote, “Your parents did a very cool thing with this memorial. It’s going to keep on inspiring people for decades.” And I hope it inspires people to build more memorials like these when loved ones die.

A man’s conscience, like a warning line on the highway, tells him what he shouldn’t do – but it does not keep him from doing it. – Frank A. Clark

Something to keep in mind when considering my relationship to motorcycles.

Men, motorcycles, and the women in their lives often make for some interesting dynamics. The AMA put this question on the April Backfire feature of their website and got some pretty typical women-related replies from male readers:

You know you’re a real motorcyclist if:

• you forget your anniversary but remember the day you bought your bike.
  
• you scratch your head in confusion when you see a want ad that reads, “…bike for sale. Wife says it’s either her or the bike.”
  
• The principle reason you stay with your current girlfriend is because she rides her own Harley, and has an air compressor to boot!
  
• Your wife is always asking you why you are going out for milk.
  
• If your wife thinks that motorcycles are like rabbits. Every time she looks in the garage she says “ANOTHER ONE!?!”
  
• Your wife declares, “It’s the bike or me,” and you find yourself talking to a lawyer!

Tomorrow morning, I’m picking up a used ‘99 Montesa Cota which I’ll ride this weekend in our club’s 2-day trial. I proposed a barter with the US importer, Martin Belair, and he agreed. Thus begins a reinvigoration of my 36-year love affair with motorcycles and especially the sport of observed trials… and a test to see how it goes with my marriage. I think we’ll be ok, as the ol’ ego seems tame right now. But I’d better keep vigilant.

NY Times sports writer Ira Berkow’s column remembering Ann Landers (When Bear Consulted an Oracle) surprised me. AKA Esther Lederer, Landers would have been a lot more interesting to me had she published a weblog with some of the observations and advice to public figures that Berkow cites in his column. I don’t resonate with advice columns. It’s hard to see the value of providing simplistic answers to complex problems in people’s lives. Entertaining, sure, but helpful? Probably not that often. But maybe I should. 90 million regular readers? Sheeeeit.

It is kind of cool, though, that Lederer didn’t want to have a funeral. How many famous people have ever done that?

‘Dear Abby’ writes to Wisconsin man she turned in. That guy probably no longer resonates with advice columnists, either. He wrote to Abby — AKA Jeanne Phillips — for help because he was bothered by his sexual fantasies about his girlfriend’s young daughters. She told the police and the whole thing got leaked to the media. He got probation for having child porn and last night was interviewed by Connie Chung on CNN.

Who wins the prize for the biggest mistake: The guy, Abby, the Milwaukee police, Chung, CNN, or the millions who watched the stupid show?

Nothing real new in this Washington Post blurb on a new book “The Emotional Revolution: How the New Science of Feelings Can Transform Your Life.”

But I’d never heard of the phrase ‘hedonic treadmill’ before. I like it. “Researchers refer to the “hedonic treadmill” theory, which compares the pursuit of happiness to a person on a treadmill, who has to keep working just to stay in the same place.”

And it appears from the reviews on Amazon that there’s a lot more to the book than the Post blurb would indicate… especially the brain research on emotions. I’ll check it out.

After a two-week, unplanned hiatus, I’m back to blogging and more with Real Joe.

Where’ve I been? The intense pace of my day job is part of the explanation. I’ve been moderating two public policy forums simultaneously for nearly three weeks, plus doing several other web-based projects for clients. But that only partially explains it, as I’ve also had plenty of freetime where I could’ve been blogging. Some of that was just due to my unwillingness to give up other stuff in my life to take time for Joe… family stuff, racquetball, and those all-important naps.

But as I reflect on it today, (and as I read my journal notes from the past two weeks — yes, I do write stuff in a journal that I don’t post here) it seems that it was not a crisis of commitment and passion to Real Joe as I originally assumed. Rather, it seems — and I emphasize ’seems’ as I can’t be sure about this stuff — that what was tripping me up was a lack of self-discipline and daily/weekly structure that many self-employed people have trouble with. I’ve always had this problem, of course, but my busyness with my other work just brought it to the forefront.

So I need a tighter daily schedule. I need someone to report my goals and progress to each week. I don’t need someone telling me what to do, but someone regularly giving me feedback on my plans and performance, someone to be accountable to. I’m not sure yet who this person is going to be but I’ve got some prospects to ask. In the meantime, I’ll act as if. So today I’ll do some preparation… clean and organize my office, clean out my email inbox, prepare a draft of my goals for the week, set my schedule based on my priorities for Monday. And then execute. How hard can it be?

Damn hard. I’d better post this quick before I start waffling.

[Note: today's audioblog is "on location" - background audio recorded and mixed with spoken audio.]

Audioblog: MP3 | Real Audio

I’m sitting at David and Mary’s table at the Goodbye Blue Monday coffeehouse here in Northfield since the A/C is a little strong now over in my “corner office” table by the window.

Having coffee at this independent coffeehouse in the center of downtown Northfield is one of my favorite simple pleasures. It’s a social hangout, but just as often, I sit alone to write in my blog, organize my to-do list, read a book. Like many home office types, I like having a chunk of time each day where I work in a social setting, away from my home office. I know that I’m likely to be interrupted by people I know — that I’ll see people I know and interrupt them — and that’s part of the serendipitous social glue that keeps me connected to the townsfolk. I don’t come here if I have to get work done.

Relaxing on a shaded screened porch is another simple pleasure, and I love regularly eating meals here in the warm months of the year. I’m back home now having my usual Sunday breakfast on the porch — French Toast, sausage and OJ.

I normally read the Sunday newspaper while I eat but since I’m on a “simple pleasure” kick, today I’m putting aside the paper and just eating breakfast, wallowing in the simple pleasure of the food, the chirping birds, having my wife, daughter, and dog join me, feeling grateful for the whole scene.

Quote of the Day

Manifest plainness, Embrace simplicity, Reduce selfishness, Have few desires. – Lao-Tzu, Tao Te Ching

Embrace simplicity? Piece o’ cake, man! Well, three blog entries in four days doesn’t exactly spell perfection, but I can see why it’s cool. Have few desires? Now that’s another story. I’m likely to be doing a barter for a new motorcycle soon. I’m excited, natch, since the bike I’m competing on now is an ancient ‘88 Beta. But I do have fun on it still, and there’s a certain perverse pleasure in occasionally beating guys on new bikes. So while I know that I’m not really going to be any happier with a new bike than what I have now, I’m still drooling. I don’t know if I can “not have desires” when it comes to motorcycles.

Audioblog: MP3 | Real Audio

Last night, my wife and I decided to indulge in another simple pleasure. Rather than going to a movie or out to dinner, we packed up some beer, hot dogs, chips and marshmellows and headed down to build a campfire on the top of the big hill at the trials grounds — the land that my motorcycle club, the UMTA, leases. It was warm, mildly breezy, and the bugs were few. We were immediately in heaven.

(Click the thumbnail image for 50K half-page shot. Click HUGE for a high-quality, 800K shot.)

There’s a lot of history for us at this spot, going back to 1974 when I first joined the club. We have fond memories of camping and exploring with our kids. That big oak tree has been a frequent meditation spot for me. But my addiction to riding was painful to her more than I care to admit, so it’s not all pleasant memories. But we’re beyond that now, and that painful time is now a scar that we’re proud to have healed.

After the sun went down, we laid on our backs to watch the stars appear. The Big Dipper materialized right above us, and then a couple of satellites crisscrossed right through it.

Quote of the Day

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. – Robert Brault

Ok, I’m doing it, I’m doing it. Photos of it help. Blogging it helps. Talking about it helps. I’m chiseling it into my scattered brain in hopes for some retention.

Audioblog: MP3 | Real Audio

At noon yesterday, I told my wife I was going down to the racquetball club to see if I could find a game. She said, “Oh, I was thinking we could do a picnic lunch someplace.” I immediately took the better deal. We made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grabbed a bag of chips, and walked five minutes from our house in Northfield down to this park bench at Riverside Park on the Cannon River.

We chatted about the usual stuff: kids, our work, friends, the news — I really don’t remember now, of course. But at one point, it occurred to me that we were immensely enjoying ourselves. I mentioned to her that I’d read somewhere that one reason people who win the lottery generally are less happy after they’ve won is because they no longer take time to immerse themselves in simple pleasures that they once enjoyed. They may not have been fully aware of how satisfying it was to sit on the porch steps chatting with their neighbors, or walking around the block hand in hand. But now that they have money, they feel compelled to take their neighbors to a fancy restaurant. Or fly someplace exotic to walk hand in hand. And so their focus in life gradually turns to a never-ending process of how to top that, or at least, to keep doing things that cost a ton of money to keep the pleasures coming. They lose the ability to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. And they don’t even know it.

So there we were, fully aware that we were enjoying a simple pleasure: a five minute walk to a park for a PBJ picnic at lunchtime in the middle of the week. And it was sweet.

Quote of the Day

The trouble with simple living is that, though it can be joyful, rich, and creative, it isn’t simple. – Doris Janzen Longacre

So how the hell do I go about enjoying more simple pleasures on a more regular basis if it’s not simple like this woman says? I don’t really know. Maybe the more I do it, though, the easier it will be to keep finding ways to do it more regularly. And talking about it. Writing about it. Scheduling it.