August 30, 2006
I had to make a sudden visit to Minneapolis to meet with Target today. And being back in my home state I am almost profoundly struck by how much I like Minnesotans. The men are friendly, but not gregarious. They are eager to talk to strangers--not to impress, but out of a genuine friendliness, although don't be surprised if the conversation never strays far from the Vikings and the Twins. The men dress plainly, more Field and Stream and less GQ, and even doctors and lawyers appear to have descended from farming stock. A Minnesota woman is happy and friendly, giving textbook definition to the heretofore ineffable term "pleasingly plump." And she will talk to a man like she talks to women--platonically genial, using a photograph of her children as a visual aid.
You get the sense that Minnesotans will give you an honest day's labor, but no more. Come 5:15 they will head home to help coach their son's hockey team or watch their round-bottomed daughter play softball. They all know at least three good jokes, even the women. They have been proved in the frozen kilns of Minnesota winters; and made hearty by enduring youthful rites of passage which require shoveling snow and walking home on dark, icy paths.
I would trust my life to Minnesotans, and more, and would take them in my foxhole before the residents of any other state, including Rhode Island and Oklahoma.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Defensive Driving
This is going to make me sound really old, but ...
On the way home from work today I was nearly hit by other cars three times. No fooling. First, heading north on 300 West, a completely clueless elderly lady cut all the way across the road, directly in front of me, nearly perpendicular across four lanes. Fortunately, I wasn't going very fast and was able to stop before broad-siding her husband, who was in the passenger seat. After she finished crossing my lane, I passed by and noticed in the rear-view mirror that she came to a complete and befuddled stop in the middle of traffic. It was scary to watch.
Next, as I was exiting from I-15 to I-215, a car behind me and to my right realized he was in the wrong lane to stay on I-15, and swerved very suddenly across two lanes, including mine, to avoid gettiing on I-215. Prior to this I had slowed a bit on the exit (like maybe to 60 mph) to make sure the car directly to my right didn't do the same thing. So the car behind me nearly clipped my tail.
And finally, once on 215, a semi truck suddenly shifted to his left, about five feet into my lane, nearly hitting me. I jammed on my horn and he got back. But by this time I was starting to look for aerial attacks.
So, besides feeling like a target, what do I take away from all this? If I would have been driving the same way I did as a teenager I'd very likely have been in an accident. I used to think being a "good driver" meant keen reflexes and the ability to handle a car well. Now, a few years older and perhaps a bit wiser, I understand that my main objective when driving is to not get hurt, and to not hurt anyone else. I've become a "defensive driver." In fact, I've begun to expect other people to do stupid things, especially with the advent of cell phones. I drive like a careful old fogie--exactly like my dad did while I silently laughed at his lack of aggression.
Fortunately, I only have two "good drivers" left to teach. OK, maybe one. And thank goodness for her.
On the way home from work today I was nearly hit by other cars three times. No fooling. First, heading north on 300 West, a completely clueless elderly lady cut all the way across the road, directly in front of me, nearly perpendicular across four lanes. Fortunately, I wasn't going very fast and was able to stop before broad-siding her husband, who was in the passenger seat. After she finished crossing my lane, I passed by and noticed in the rear-view mirror that she came to a complete and befuddled stop in the middle of traffic. It was scary to watch.
Next, as I was exiting from I-15 to I-215, a car behind me and to my right realized he was in the wrong lane to stay on I-15, and swerved very suddenly across two lanes, including mine, to avoid gettiing on I-215. Prior to this I had slowed a bit on the exit (like maybe to 60 mph) to make sure the car directly to my right didn't do the same thing. So the car behind me nearly clipped my tail.
And finally, once on 215, a semi truck suddenly shifted to his left, about five feet into my lane, nearly hitting me. I jammed on my horn and he got back. But by this time I was starting to look for aerial attacks.
So, besides feeling like a target, what do I take away from all this? If I would have been driving the same way I did as a teenager I'd very likely have been in an accident. I used to think being a "good driver" meant keen reflexes and the ability to handle a car well. Now, a few years older and perhaps a bit wiser, I understand that my main objective when driving is to not get hurt, and to not hurt anyone else. I've become a "defensive driver." In fact, I've begun to expect other people to do stupid things, especially with the advent of cell phones. I drive like a careful old fogie--exactly like my dad did while I silently laughed at his lack of aggression.
Fortunately, I only have two "good drivers" left to teach. OK, maybe one. And thank goodness for her.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Remembering Dad
August 27, 2006
This afternoon for a family activity we put together a scrapbook for my dad, or Boppa, as the kids knew him by. This was precipitated by a visit last week from my Uncle Wally and Aunt Sue, who were passing through and stayed with us for a night. I took advantage of the opportunity to get out all of Dad's old pictures and memorabilia, which I hadn't looked at since Mom died. And I went through a bunch of pictures with Wally to both identify the subjects and reminisce at the same time. I really enjoyed spending time with him.
So, having all of Dad's stuff in a small stack, I decided to put it in a book--nothing fancy, with flowers or stencils; just some acid-free sleeves, black mounting paper and a big three-ring notebook. Angelica, Rebecca, Lanee and I toiled for several hours, the result of which was a great book that captures a lot of Dad's history, including his ancestors, family, schooling, military, avocational, religious and professional interests. It's the kind of book that will be passed on from one generation to the next, and I am quite happy to have made it. I guess now I need one for my mother.
It is, perhaps, a small way of turning the hearts of the parents to the children, and vice versa.
This afternoon for a family activity we put together a scrapbook for my dad, or Boppa, as the kids knew him by. This was precipitated by a visit last week from my Uncle Wally and Aunt Sue, who were passing through and stayed with us for a night. I took advantage of the opportunity to get out all of Dad's old pictures and memorabilia, which I hadn't looked at since Mom died. And I went through a bunch of pictures with Wally to both identify the subjects and reminisce at the same time. I really enjoyed spending time with him.
So, having all of Dad's stuff in a small stack, I decided to put it in a book--nothing fancy, with flowers or stencils; just some acid-free sleeves, black mounting paper and a big three-ring notebook. Angelica, Rebecca, Lanee and I toiled for several hours, the result of which was a great book that captures a lot of Dad's history, including his ancestors, family, schooling, military, avocational, religious and professional interests. It's the kind of book that will be passed on from one generation to the next, and I am quite happy to have made it. I guess now I need one for my mother.
It is, perhaps, a small way of turning the hearts of the parents to the children, and vice versa.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Microsoft
An executive from Microsoft was in town to visit us today. By so many measures, we have created a legitimate national company. Besides Microsoft, there have been many other major companies come to see us (and we have been to see many, many more). It's a little flattering.
Microsoft represents a good opportunity for us, and I think we can add value to them. But one thing I know from working in a large company is that there are a lot of things that can go wrong. That's one of the beauties of a start-up--when we say we're going to do something, we can get it done. There aren't any veto votes along the way.
On the other hand, there's something to be said for being a 600-pound gorilla.
Microsoft represents a good opportunity for us, and I think we can add value to them. But one thing I know from working in a large company is that there are a lot of things that can go wrong. That's one of the beauties of a start-up--when we say we're going to do something, we can get it done. There aren't any veto votes along the way.
On the other hand, there's something to be said for being a 600-pound gorilla.
The Uintas
August 21, 2006
Just spent a couple of days in the Uintas with Sam and the varsity boys from church at Hal McEwan's cabin. He has a great place which was built by his father the year he was born--1930. On Monday we rode horses up to Fish Lake, which was a beautiful trip up the mountain. At the top, a few of us jumped off an old CCC dam into the ice-cold mountain lake. We also saw a herd of 12 mountain goats, including rams and little ones, which was very cool.
I enjoyed the horseback ride. It was up a steep and rocky trail, so it was interesting and you had to pay attention. Several times the trail crossed the fast-moving river, and the horses got skittish and didn't want to do it. And they were all kind enough to canter and trot when the trail was clear and flat--in fact, they seemed to look forward to it.
There is a lot of skill to riding horses that I don't possess. But through my rather limited experience it has struck me that much of it is a leadership challenge. Horses need to know you're in charge and what the expectations are. It helps to have some competence. That's enough to get what you need. But the journey is a lot more pleasant for everyone if you have a caring relationship with the horse. Despite this theory, my butt still hurt at the end of the ride.
Just spent a couple of days in the Uintas with Sam and the varsity boys from church at Hal McEwan's cabin. He has a great place which was built by his father the year he was born--1930. On Monday we rode horses up to Fish Lake, which was a beautiful trip up the mountain. At the top, a few of us jumped off an old CCC dam into the ice-cold mountain lake. We also saw a herd of 12 mountain goats, including rams and little ones, which was very cool.
I enjoyed the horseback ride. It was up a steep and rocky trail, so it was interesting and you had to pay attention. Several times the trail crossed the fast-moving river, and the horses got skittish and didn't want to do it. And they were all kind enough to canter and trot when the trail was clear and flat--in fact, they seemed to look forward to it.
There is a lot of skill to riding horses that I don't possess. But through my rather limited experience it has struck me that much of it is a leadership challenge. Horses need to know you're in charge and what the expectations are. It helps to have some competence. That's enough to get what you need. But the journey is a lot more pleasant for everyone if you have a caring relationship with the horse. Despite this theory, my butt still hurt at the end of the ride.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Fantasy Football Draft
August 19th, 2006
We had our Fantasy Football draft at our home this morning. I'm the Lou Holtz of fantasy football, always thinking my team is awful and will get trounced. But in this case, I'm sure I'm right. I relied way too heavily on a certain Internet source for my projections, and in many cases they turned out to be a little crazy. So unless Stephen Jackson has a huge year, and Peyton Manning peaks again, it's going to be a long season.
I'm not sure why I do this. It's a ridiculous time bandit. And were I not living the experience, I would laugh out loud at st me checking NFL stats a dozen times on Sunday afternoons, and poring over waiver players deep into the night. But I get a perverse pleasure out of it. And it's fun to kibitz with my family. This year I know everyone in the league--Ryan, Angelica, Zachary, Sam, Tyler, Adam and Trey. So the social value of bragging rights should not be underestimated.
Merritt and I went golfing in the morning. I enjoyed it. I can't believe it, but I may become a golfer. I thought I would wait until my 60's, and maybe my 50's, but here I am schlepping clubs around a cheap municipal course and looking every bit as foolish as I had imagined. But I got a few good tips from Merritt, and for the first time ever I hit the ball straight. It's kind of a cool feeling, and saves money on balls besides.
Sometimes I feel like I am getting to be such an old man. Other times I still wonder what I will do when I grow up.
We had our Fantasy Football draft at our home this morning. I'm the Lou Holtz of fantasy football, always thinking my team is awful and will get trounced. But in this case, I'm sure I'm right. I relied way too heavily on a certain Internet source for my projections, and in many cases they turned out to be a little crazy. So unless Stephen Jackson has a huge year, and Peyton Manning peaks again, it's going to be a long season.
I'm not sure why I do this. It's a ridiculous time bandit. And were I not living the experience, I would laugh out loud at st me checking NFL stats a dozen times on Sunday afternoons, and poring over waiver players deep into the night. But I get a perverse pleasure out of it. And it's fun to kibitz with my family. This year I know everyone in the league--Ryan, Angelica, Zachary, Sam, Tyler, Adam and Trey. So the social value of bragging rights should not be underestimated.
Merritt and I went golfing in the morning. I enjoyed it. I can't believe it, but I may become a golfer. I thought I would wait until my 60's, and maybe my 50's, but here I am schlepping clubs around a cheap municipal course and looking every bit as foolish as I had imagined. But I got a few good tips from Merritt, and for the first time ever I hit the ball straight. It's kind of a cool feeling, and saves money on balls besides.
Sometimes I feel like I am getting to be such an old man. Other times I still wonder what I will do when I grow up.
Lois and Tom
August 17th
Rebecca's mother Lois came to visit today, along with her beau Tom. She met Tom last spring in Arizona and their relationship has developed steadily since. It was the first time we met him and we were all a little apprehensive, especially me. But he is a nice man, very gentle, and kind and complimentary to Lois. He's very different from Jim, and I'm wondering what that would be like after 50 years of marriage. Probably refreshing in some ways. And if you're a big enough person, you can accept the differences that aren't necessarily positive. Anyway, I'm glad they are happy together and hope everything continues to go well.
Rebecca's mother Lois came to visit today, along with her beau Tom. She met Tom last spring in Arizona and their relationship has developed steadily since. It was the first time we met him and we were all a little apprehensive, especially me. But he is a nice man, very gentle, and kind and complimentary to Lois. He's very different from Jim, and I'm wondering what that would be like after 50 years of marriage. Probably refreshing in some ways. And if you're a big enough person, you can accept the differences that aren't necessarily positive. Anyway, I'm glad they are happy together and hope everything continues to go well.
The Funeral
August 16, 2006
We went to Doug's funeral today in Park City. It was nice to see so many old friends and the place was packed. It looked like the family was hit pretty hard, but I think the funeral was therapeutic. Both Logan and Brennan spoke and did a nice job talking about things their dad had taught them. Scott Thornton also, and Doug's friend Bob Whitman, the CEO of Franklin Covey.
I like funerals, much more than weddings. Weddings have this naive sense of optimism, like now that I've found my spouse everything is going to be great. The fact is, the problems usually start the next day. A wedding should be a more sober affair, when you make commitments and think long and hard about the hard work it will be to make the marriage successful. Of course, maybe no one would ever do it then.
Funerals are different. They are just filled with love and compassion. There is no pretense. We all care deeply for those that mourn, and we comfort those that stand in need of comfort. And in LDS funerals, there is generally this matter-of-fact faith that while we have suffered a loss on earth, we will meet again in the eternities. I'm not planning on going Harold and Maude or anything, but I've never met a funeral I didn't like.
Two great lines there, and I think Doug would have appreciated them both:
Afterwards we were talking to Polly about burying Doug in Kaysville. She said: "I know. Doug's going to be so mad at me!" Which somehow struck me as beautifully faithful and completely hilarious.
Immediately after the funeral, Dan Portwood says to Lee Benson and I: "What an amazing guy. How do you get to be so amazing?" And after he walks away, Lee says: "You die." Not to take a whit away from Doug, but so true.
We went to Doug's funeral today in Park City. It was nice to see so many old friends and the place was packed. It looked like the family was hit pretty hard, but I think the funeral was therapeutic. Both Logan and Brennan spoke and did a nice job talking about things their dad had taught them. Scott Thornton also, and Doug's friend Bob Whitman, the CEO of Franklin Covey.
I like funerals, much more than weddings. Weddings have this naive sense of optimism, like now that I've found my spouse everything is going to be great. The fact is, the problems usually start the next day. A wedding should be a more sober affair, when you make commitments and think long and hard about the hard work it will be to make the marriage successful. Of course, maybe no one would ever do it then.
Funerals are different. They are just filled with love and compassion. There is no pretense. We all care deeply for those that mourn, and we comfort those that stand in need of comfort. And in LDS funerals, there is generally this matter-of-fact faith that while we have suffered a loss on earth, we will meet again in the eternities. I'm not planning on going Harold and Maude or anything, but I've never met a funeral I didn't like.
Two great lines there, and I think Doug would have appreciated them both:
Afterwards we were talking to Polly about burying Doug in Kaysville. She said: "I know. Doug's going to be so mad at me!" Which somehow struck me as beautifully faithful and completely hilarious.
Immediately after the funeral, Dan Portwood says to Lee Benson and I: "What an amazing guy. How do you get to be so amazing?" And after he walks away, Lee says: "You die." Not to take a whit away from Doug, but so true.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Doug Jones
Sunday morning I learned that Doug Jones died Saturday night. His car hydroplaned in Parley's Canyon on his way to Salt Lake City to visit his new twin grandchildren in the hospital. I was numbed by the news.
Doug was a true gentleman and a joy to associate with. He was positive, interesting, inquisitive and complimentary. He was such a devoted father and made so many decisions on behalf of his children. He was fun to sit with and watch his kids play sports, and I had the privilege of coaching his daughter Whitney in softball and a little soccer, and I could see the joy he and Polly felt watching her play. He was also a great runner, but it was still fun to run with him because he never made you feel like you were slowing him down. I'm really glad to have known Doug and I will always remember some of the things he said to me.
I have become used to death, but not so suddenly. With Doug, there was no time to contemplate even the possibility of waking to the news that he was gone. You are left to think about how maybe we should have gotten together more, or exchanged more emails, or phone calls. And of course, given to thought about the family--how Polly and the kids must be so lost. And I suppose like many others I'm filled with compassion but uncertain as to what to do. I want to give comfort, and help some way if I can, but not to be a burden or intrude. And I wonder if it is a harder on Polly to recite the story once again for a new set of comforters, or if she would prefer quiet time with her family.
And we are left grasping for our faith as, quite literally, the sole lifeline. I have never felt completely separated from those that recently depart. It was the same with Doug, the sense that now he could see me, when he got around to my spot on his list. And that perhaps I should behave a little better so as not to disappoint him when he does look down.
But despite all this, there is just that leaden feeling in my stomach that I have been carrying around since I heard the news. And whether my prayers have done any good or not I don't know. But I do know that I am sad that he is gone, and I wish this world didn't have to include such tragedies.
Doug was a true gentleman and a joy to associate with. He was positive, interesting, inquisitive and complimentary. He was such a devoted father and made so many decisions on behalf of his children. He was fun to sit with and watch his kids play sports, and I had the privilege of coaching his daughter Whitney in softball and a little soccer, and I could see the joy he and Polly felt watching her play. He was also a great runner, but it was still fun to run with him because he never made you feel like you were slowing him down. I'm really glad to have known Doug and I will always remember some of the things he said to me.
I have become used to death, but not so suddenly. With Doug, there was no time to contemplate even the possibility of waking to the news that he was gone. You are left to think about how maybe we should have gotten together more, or exchanged more emails, or phone calls. And of course, given to thought about the family--how Polly and the kids must be so lost. And I suppose like many others I'm filled with compassion but uncertain as to what to do. I want to give comfort, and help some way if I can, but not to be a burden or intrude. And I wonder if it is a harder on Polly to recite the story once again for a new set of comforters, or if she would prefer quiet time with her family.
And we are left grasping for our faith as, quite literally, the sole lifeline. I have never felt completely separated from those that recently depart. It was the same with Doug, the sense that now he could see me, when he got around to my spot on his list. And that perhaps I should behave a little better so as not to disappoint him when he does look down.
But despite all this, there is just that leaden feeling in my stomach that I have been carrying around since I heard the news. And whether my prayers have done any good or not I don't know. But I do know that I am sad that he is gone, and I wish this world didn't have to include such tragedies.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Brick
Watched Brick last night. Funky high-school film noir with some creative directing and very hip, high school dialogue. (I didn't understand a lot of the code.) Nice film done on a tiny budget. The story seemed a bit far-fetched and I had a hard time believing any of the actors were in high school. But despite all of these flaws, I was engaged throughout and I more or less liked the enigmatic lead--Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Brendan.
Work has been hectic. Trying to get a proposal to Target that could make us very successful. We're also doing a Home Shopping Network airing on Sunday and Monday. And Microsoft wants to visit. We definitely need to close a couple of these.
I leave for St. Petersburg in the morning. With the new travel restrictions, I'll have to leave my hair gel in my suitcase. Dang!
Work has been hectic. Trying to get a proposal to Target that could make us very successful. We're also doing a Home Shopping Network airing on Sunday and Monday. And Microsoft wants to visit. We definitely need to close a couple of these.
I leave for St. Petersburg in the morning. With the new travel restrictions, I'll have to leave my hair gel in my suitcase. Dang!
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Happy Birthday Mom!
Our family has never been really good at birthdays. This morning I once again attempted to make a nice breakfast for Mom, but what she really got was a hatchet job of an omelette (spinach, mushroom, green onion and feta cheese), some limp and undercooked English muffins and microwaved bacon. As luck would have it, my omelette turned out great.
I guess the highlight of the day was that after a five-day absence Mom got to see Layla again. I'm pretty sure anything I could have done would pale in significance to her granddaughter.
I am also continuing a long-standing tradition of not having a present in time for the actual birthday. In fact, in our family it's not really a "birthday gift," but rather an "annual gift." You'll get something once a year, with only a random relationship to your actual birthdate.
Diinner tonight at Cafe Trang's, which everyone loved. Angelica, Layla, Merritt, Lanee, Mom and me. The English translations on the menu were definitely done by someone less than intimate with our language. To wit--one dish was described as having "tendons and beef balls." Who knows, maybe with a little ketchup ...
I guess the highlight of the day was that after a five-day absence Mom got to see Layla again. I'm pretty sure anything I could have done would pale in significance to her granddaughter.
I am also continuing a long-standing tradition of not having a present in time for the actual birthday. In fact, in our family it's not really a "birthday gift," but rather an "annual gift." You'll get something once a year, with only a random relationship to your actual birthdate.
Diinner tonight at Cafe Trang's, which everyone loved. Angelica, Layla, Merritt, Lanee, Mom and me. The English translations on the menu were definitely done by someone less than intimate with our language. To wit--one dish was described as having "tendons and beef balls." Who knows, maybe with a little ketchup ...
Take me out to the ballgame
Last night what's left of the family at home (four of us, normal size but abnormal composition) went to the Bees game, the local AAA affiliate. A dramatic game which the Bees won 6-5 in the last of the 9th. Featured a great throw by Nick G___, from right field--on the money from about 300 feet to catch the runner tagging from third, but the umpire blinked and called him safe so the home crowd could both cheer heartily and boo lustily over one play.
Sam learned to keep score, which now separates him from 99% of all baseball fans, and can now look down from his lofty perch of being a true afficionado. Unfortunately, while he was scoring a ball bounced nearly at his feet and a grandma in the row in front of us got it. I could have dove over her and beat her to it but that would have been bad manners. Besides, I might have injured myself.
Rebecca and Lanee were good sports, despite only a mild interest in the on-field proceedings. At a particularly crucial moment in the game Lanee asked, "I wonder how much the Bee (mascot) makes."
Sam learned to keep score, which now separates him from 99% of all baseball fans, and can now look down from his lofty perch of being a true afficionado. Unfortunately, while he was scoring a ball bounced nearly at his feet and a grandma in the row in front of us got it. I could have dove over her and beat her to it but that would have been bad manners. Besides, I might have injured myself.
Rebecca and Lanee were good sports, despite only a mild interest in the on-field proceedings. At a particularly crucial moment in the game Lanee asked, "I wonder how much the Bee (mascot) makes."
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