Nary Christmas

It wasn't a very satisfying Christmas. Work was a major distraction. We didn't have a very spiritual Christmas Eve. And our family struggled to gather together at one time. But I think I could have gotten over all of those things were it not for the one missing ingredient: I didn't serve. Oh, we tried to do a few things. I bought a couple of gifts, but never really got into it. Lanee and I made almond bark, and the family visited some families to pass out the candy and do a little presentation. I bought a recent widow a book of poetry. And that was it. No real sacrifice. No sustained effort. Not much interest in brightening lives. And a Christmas virtually lost.

It is easy to decry the destructive forces of commercialism in Christmas. It's obvious that we have completely lost the meanings of the symbols we take from the attic every December to decorate our houses. And it's all too convenient to complain about the hustle and bustle every year, and Christmas sneaking up on us, like it does to everyone, every year.

It's easy to sing the carols without being touched. To wrap the gifts as a matter of course. To substitute funny Christmas movies for thoughtful ones.

But the one act that overpowers them all is when we give of ourselves for the sake of others; when our hearts are filled with love and compassion, and our hands are busy trying to make a difference. That is Christmas pure and undefiled, and without it nothing else matters.

It would be painful to have to wait until next year for redemption. Fortunately, only the holiday is confined to December. With that thought, I'm hanging a lovely Christmas ornament in my closet that I will see every morning and every night, to remind me that giving is also a beautiful thing, and that the spirit of Christmas can be all year long, even without the bells and tinsel.

Cha-Ching!

After a month of soliciting and selling, convincing and cajoling, presenting and pleading, and grunting and groveling, we put our financing in place for our retail expansion. Money was wired to us yeterday, and we wired it out to display manufacturers, who wired it to China, who probably started parsing it out to the millions of workers who make stuff over there, to the tune of a few dollars a day.

I suppose I should celebrate, but I never do. It is both a blessing and curse. I breathe deeply for a few minutes, smile about a milestone reached, then immediately begin worrying about what needs to be done next to ward off disaster. I've never been able to enjoy any success for very long. But the bitterness of my failures is a taste that lingers on forever. As a result, I'm not driven by the trappings of success, but rather by the fear of failure.

We're all driven by different things. I've grown comfortable with my motivations and doubt that they will change. I wear them like an old pair of shoes--scuffed tops and worn heels, but they are comfortable and fit me well.

Merritt James

Our second grandchild announced himself to the world this morning. Mom, Sam and I were in the waiting room while Merritt and Stacie finished a long night of labor. He is a handsome little guy (6 lbs. 14 oz.) with lots of dark hair. They named him Merritt James, but plan to call him James.

There is something very mellowing about the birth of a new child--at least, once the birth is concluded! Everyone is softened. We dim the lights and speak in hushed tones. And we gently pass the child from person to person, and stand in line to get our touch of love, as if something magical will rub off on us.

Merritt and Stacie will be wonderful parents and I look forward to watching young James explore this brave new world, and the strange creatures in it. Yesterday I only had one grandchild, who I love with all my heart. But today I have a second who I love just as much. That's the thing about love--you can give all you want without running out.

Christmas Ditty

Last night we visited families in our neighborhood with this message:

'Twas a week before Christmas
And all through our Stake
We thought we'd find out
Just who was awake.

Perhaps you were nestled
All snug in your bed;
And the sound of the doorbell
Brought nothing but dread.

And when you discretely
Glanced from the curtain
And saw it was us,
Well you groaned, I am certain.

Maybe our visit here
Should be explained.
Don't think for a minute
You'll be entertained.

We had visions of caroling--
Our own little choir.
But calling us singers
Would make you a liar.

We considered performing
A play in three acts.
But as thespians go
We're a sad bunch of hacks.

It's not like we're visiting
The entire ward--
Just those that we thought
Might be home and be bored.

So let's get to the point,
Let's get right to the facts:
We wanted to come by
And bring you some snacks.

'Cause a week before Christmas
is a time that is right
To give you our love
On this cold snowy night.

And to bring you some sweets
And a bit of good cheer;
And wish Merry Christmas
And Happy New Year!

Money-Raising Part III

It's not that I'm obsessed with money-raising, but it's been such a big part of my life recently. Today I went to a Speed-Pitching Luncheon, and presented our business to 10 different angel investor groups in rapid succession. There's something a little bit demeaning about summing up your business in five minutes, a little like an obituary, except no one asks nasty questions after you are dead.

The concept was modeled after Speed-Dating gatherings, which have become quite the rage of late. But they did not exist when I was in season. We had Bridgemans, which served great chocolate malts, and a roller skating rink and big parks and hockey games and a five-mile stretch of beach called Park Point. If you couldn't meet a girl in one of these places, you were probably better off single. I doubt that I would have been a good speed dater. I think I'm more of an acquired taste.

Today's Observation: There is nothing more dangerous than a venture capitalist that made money as an entrepreneur selling a business. Now he thinks he's an expert at everything. He was probably awfully lucky, but is convinced it's because he was smarter than everyone else. Do not let these people on your board!

Today's Commitment: If I ever make enough money to be an angel investor I will not be a jerk and will treat people with respect.

Today's Conclusion: Still broke.

All Night Long

I pulled an all-nighter last night. It's been a while since I've done that, and I'm not exactly sure why I did. Maybe to try to trick myself into believing that I'm still young. But I was working at the office and experiencing this highly productive surge of energy and the night grew long and my to-do list grew short and then it was morning. So I grabbed some breakfast, worked out and came home to start my day normally, except for the fact my body kept reminding me that something very strange was going on. And my mind kept deserting me. And all of this has dashed my delusions of the limitless energy of an eternal youth.

Nevertheless, I like the idea of working all night. It screams of passion and dedication. It waves a flag of commitment above and beyond mortals who have chosen paths normal and sane. Yet there is a foolishness to the proposition that can only be attributed to a thirst for excellence, and a hunger for more better faster. There is a chaos in the act that appeals to the anarchist in me, as I pose chin-out in counter-cyclical defiance to the laws of commerce or physics.

I won't be young forever, even in my own mind. But if I am nimble old age can not creep up on me. And then one day I will pass that portal, with a bowed head and creaking knees, in the middle of the night, while the watchman sleeps.

Money Raising: Part II

So there we were, Lee, Matt and me, having an investment discussion with a guy who has made quite a bit of money, and is now in the business of giving short-term loans at usurious interest rates. It's not pretty, but it may be our best option to fund our retail deal.

But here's the thing--this guy likes us and believes in our product. He wants to help. But he knows how onerous his terms are. So he doesn't really want us to take it. He's like a friendly loan shark.

And here's the other thing--he looked miserable. He's making lots of money, but agonizes over possibly making a deal that might not be more lucrative than the last. He looks pained, like a man wrestling with his conscience. We all may be broke and sacrificing paychecks, but I think we sleep well, and we were smiling and comfortable. We all commented that it looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

Investing in us is a moral decision for him. He's known that for some time, as he almost invested a year ago. It doesn't matter nearly as much to us as it does to him, because he is wracked with guilt over choosing money over his desire to help.

Everything in life has a price tag. But wealth is often the worst value.