The Last Lecture

Having heard so much about The Last Lecture I finally decided to read it. For those of you who might not have heard, author Randy Pausch was a computer science professor and virtual reality expert at Carnegie-Mellon University who at 46 years of age was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer in 2006.

Carnegie-Mellon had for some time been holding a Last Lecture series—an invitation for academics to speak freely on subjects of their choice, vaguely conjuring up what they might say if this was the final opportunity to say it. Of course the irony for Pausch is that this in fact was his last lecture, which he entitled “Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams.” It is available on the Internet, and is an inspiring, engaging, humorous and insightful commentary on how Pausch tried to live his life. The book is his personal story, centered around the lecture and dealing with his final months.

I have spoken to a few friends who were dying or feared they were. Their perspectives intrigue me, and I have asked how the experience has changed their view of the world. Pausch’s response was not much different. Values change completely. Things/possessions/stuff are of almost no importance. People and relationships are everything.

Randy Pausch died on July 25th of this year, leaving behind a wife and three young children. His story is worth reading.

August Quotes

I have always enjoyed quotations that make me think or feel or laugh, or that capture truths in a powerful way. I especially like quotes that remind me of principles I need to internalize or live better. I always have a quotation on my email, and this year I have tried to memorize them as I go along. I find having them at my disposal useful in conversation, teaching, speaking and writing. I've learned that a thought has more credibility if someone famous or dead (or both, ideally) said it before me. Here are a few from August.


"Those individuals have riches just as we say that we 'have a fever,' when really the fever has us."
--Seneca

"By the time you're eighty years old you've learned everything. You only have to remember it."
--George Burns

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
--Mahatma Gandhi

"May we live so that when that final summons is heard, we may have no serious regrets, no unfinished business."
--Thomas S. Monson

"A company is stronger if it is bound by love rather than by fear ... If the employees come first, then they're happy."
--Herb Kelleher, Former CEO of Southwest Airlines

"It is far better for a man to go wrong in freedom than to go right in chains."
--Thomas Huxley

"Always notice when you are happy."
--Kurt Vonnegut

"Imagination rules the world."
--Napoleon Bonaparte

"Adults are always asking kids what they want to be when they grow up because they are looking for ideas."
--Paula Poundstone

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
--Dr. Seuss

"He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know."
--Abraham Lincoln

"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion; if you want to be happy, practice compassion."
– Dalai Lama

"There are three kinds of men: Ones who learn by reading, a few who learn by observation, and the rest of them have to pee on the electric fence to find out for themselves."
--Will Rogers

The Omnivore's Dilemma

I realize that it’s rather audacious of me to recommend Michael Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dilemma to anyone (even though Rebecca recommended it to me). Given how extreme my views on diet have become, I might easily be suspected of trying to ram tofu and wheatgrass down your collective throats. Save your gag reflexes, as this is nothing of the kind. Omnivore’s Dilemma is neither an indictment of carnivores nor an endorsement of the organic movement. Rather, it is a fairly comprehensive and well-balanced look at what we eat and why we eat it.

The book opens with a treatise on corn. Americans eat a lot of corn. (More than Mexicans, the author notes.) Our meat is a product of corn, as is most of our sugar and at least some of almost every processed food. Pollan traces this extraordinary dependence to back to political decisions made during the Nixon administration that opened the floodgates for corn subsidies, which have lingered the past 40 years. As a result, we have quite frighteningly become the people of the corn. (For a related exploration of this topic, see the strange but entertaining 2007 documentary King Corn.)

In the balance of the book, Pollan provides a detailed, vivid and intimate contrast between factory farming and localized, traditional farming practices. As everyone knows, we get nearly all of our food from the former while the latter have become virtually extinct. The book explains why this has happened, the result of government policy, special-interest legislation, a growing population and free market dynamics. And so we are left with a food supply that has been processed for efficiency and profitability with little regard for anything else.

On close examination, the modern agricultural system seems almost surreal, a vicious circle that has left us with a dependence on chemical fertilizers and dangerous pesticides, which have led to depleted soil, watershed pollution, high petroleum requirements and tasteless produce, all propped up by government subsidies that mostly enrich large and profitable corporate enterprises. And we haven’t even started on meat processing, which is not only mildly repulsive, but environmentally devastating and terribly unhealthy by comparison. (For an interesting documentary film on factory agriculture--produce, fish, meat and dairy--see We Feed the World.)

What to do? Not to oversimplify, but perhaps the slow foods movement provides the most organized efforts in the right direction. But read the book. Even if it doesn’t change your life, it’s a fun read. After all, eating is our most primitive urge and at the core of our culture and society. It’s not a bad idea to consider the source.

A Very Dark Horse

If nominated, I will not run.
If elected, I will not serve.

The Internet brings such curious power to the people.

In a Wiki

Yesterday morning I woke up and discovered I was a Wikipedia entry. (That line feels vaguely reminiscent of the opening of Kafka’s Metamorphosis, which goes something like this: “As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.” And perhaps my initial reaction was not much different from Gregor’s.)

I have no idea how it got there—it looks like some web indexing. (I swear it wasn’t me!). But it picked up some general biographical data that was mostly accurate, some business background and even family info. I did fix the birth date, which was off by a year.

Once I recovered from the surprise, I began to diagnose this phenomenon. Have I become more important? Well, no. In fact, since leaving ClearPlay I’ve become less relevant in the world of business (CEO’s trump consultants any day). What then? And it came to me. Web 2.0 is not-so-gradually making us all public figures. Our privacy is ebbing away. The time is not far distant when virtually every public action that you take will be traceable, creating a vast library of online biographies free and open to the viewing public.

The Libertarian in me says take it down. But the devil known as Vanity says leave it up. In this case, I’ll neither stand on principle nor bend to temptation. But I will leave it up. With my new business, I could use the publicity.

Parties Having Parties

Now that the Olympics are over and we have two weeks before real sports (i.e. football) starts the leaders of our country determined that citizens were in great danger of not having anything exciting to watch on television. Not being talented enough to create a good mini-series, and not interesting enough for Reality TV, they decided to hold political conventions. Yes, sadly, this is the best they could come up with.

You might ask why you should be glued to your TV set to watch the conventions. The answer is, you shouldn’t, because nothing important ever happens at conventions. No decisions are made. Everything is scripted, from alliteration to applause, from nuance to neckties. Neither candidate is going to say anything new. There are no policy shifts forthcoming. It is all a fait accompli. Yet on we watch, expecting that, what, someone might catch Barrack Obama making out with Hillary behind the curtain?

So why are Republicans and Democrats alike wasting countless millions just to throw a party? Well, first of all, it’s a cash machine. Taxpayers pony up the first $16.4 million to each party (doesn’t that stick in your craw a bit?). Further, each party sells virtually unregulated sponsorships to big business to the tune of over $100 million total. Yep, this is a big money venture—a fundraiser.

And of course, the second reason is the media, with over 15,000 members of the press covering each convention, taking careful notes, writing meaningless political drivel and passing on the most banal of broadcast commentary. Fortunately, even though these titans of journalism are mostly bloated and hungover from the free food and drink, reporting on the convention is a fairly easy process. (Hints: Obama is for change and McCain will indirectly suggest that Democrats are fighting a jihad led by a closet Muslim terrorist.) Besides the party hacks, the entire events are dominated by corporate sponsor suck-ups and disinterested journalists. As some clever pundit said: “The parasites have become the host.”

Yes, it’s a sad and broken system. It’s a tragedy is that one of these two parties gets to have a president. But even worse, there’s nothing else good on TV.

Lake Blanche

Took a hike this afternoon to Lake Blanche, one of the most beautiful trails in the area. It's been several years since I've been up there, and I was once again reminded of why I love it so much. The first mile runs along a burbling creek. Then the climb gets steeper and rockier, with beautiful stands of large quaking aspens amidst rocky outgrowths and occasional large piles of oven-sized rocks where the mountain has given way. The mountain ash were full of orange berries, while raspberry bushes with leaves as big as my hand offered only a few berries left to eat.

Reaching the top offers a delightful reward, where several crystal clear mountain lakes are nestled under the watchful gaze of Sundial Peak. I made good time heading up--reaching the lakes in about an hour with a combination of running and fast-walking the three miles (and 3000 foot elevation gain). I rewarded myself with the most cold and refreshing swim I've had in years.

I'm continually reminded how stunning the Wasatch canyons are and what a blessing it is to have them in my own backyard.

Doping the Olympics

I’m going to make a wild prediction. In 16 years, in the 2024 Olympics (and it might happen earlier), all manner of performance-enhancing drugs are going to be allowed in Olympic competition. And in fact, I think it’s the right move. Actually, it’s the only move that makes sense. Either that, or the Olympics will collapse under the weight of innuendo and suspicion.

Check out the article in Wired called “Cheats of Strength: 10 Next-Gen Olympic Doping Methods.” It’s frightening how many new methods are being developed to give athletes an artificial edge. No doubt many of these will be virtually undetectable.

And this is a curve that will accelerate faster than Usain Bolt. Nanotechnology will make available remarkably effective new processes such as cell replacement, gene reprogramming, red blood cell enhancements, etc. Trying to police these technologies is like cops playing catch-up to radar detectors—the best cheaters will always win, creating a perpetually imbalanced playing field. Further, it will present rather extraordinary ethical dilemmas. For instance, if it turns out that a certain myostatin can dramatically increase lean muscle mass, could an aspiring country breed athletes with high-myostatin insemination?

The IOC will have no choice but to throw in the towel and let the best dope win. In many cases, there will be no ill effects to the enhancements (in fact, quite the opposite, as research shifts from masking detection to reducing risks). Other means will present options: If someone wants to trade 10 years of their life for a shot at the gold, that’s a personal decision. Minors will probably be outlawed from competition, making the investment profile of enhancement a little less attractive. And record books will be rewritten, but as the Beijing Games have made clear, technology is doing that already.

This permissiveness will flow as well to professional sports across the world. So we will all quit worrying about testing and cheating and sit back and watch astounding acts of physical prowess, something between the traditional games of our youth and CGI.

Further, I’m guessing that somewhere around that time we’ll be able to enjoy absolutely life-like digital recreations of classic games from the Pre-Enhanced Era (PEE) on the big screen at home. Pick your teams, change the strategy, draft another player, etc. Then let them play it out. Your players will be programmed to perform exactly like Michael Jordan, Larry Bird et al. This will be where the gambling money will flow, because it will be better controlled and regulated. Fantasy Football on steroids. As opposed to the Olympics on steroids. You heard it here first.

Mongol

Mongol was released in a few film festivals a year ago, and even got an Academy Award nom last year (Best Foreign Film), but just recently found its way to my local arthouse theatre.

The movie tells the story of a young Genghis Khan, the great 12-century Mongolian warlord. Admittedly, this is history with an asterisk. Most of the story is based on The Secret History of the Mongols, the oldest Mongolian literature extant, written as a tribute to Ghengis Khan after his death, and probably more heroic mythic poetry than historical fact. Despite these blurry lines, it is as good a foundation as any to tell the beginnings of the greatest conqueror in the world's history and one of its most intriguing leaders. And unlike many biopics, it also makes for a great story.

Mongol follows the young Temudjin (his given name) from birth through an extraordinarily challenging childhood, despite his favorable heritage (his father was a minor tribal chief). We see a surprisingly mature 10-year-old choose his wife (or, vice-versa really), witness his father's murder, and survive all manner of trials and tribulations with quiet determination and fortitude.

Growing into manhood, Temudjin uses his natural leadership talent and skill in combat to reap his revenge and begin assembling the army that would eventually conquer most of Asia, Russia, Eastern Europe and the Middle East.

This is an engaging film, beautifully crafted by veteran Russian director Sergei Bodrov. Shot on location in China, there is a rich, verdant oppressiveness to the settings, befitting the rugged outdoor life of the nomadic tribes. Spoken in Mongol with subtitles (and using Mongolian and Chinese actors), the films feels strangely authentic. The battles are orchestrated with grandeur and realism (and plenty of gore), reminiscent of Braveheart, giving the production a big-budget feel.

Rumor has it that this is the first of a trilogy Bodrov is planning on the life of Genghis Khan. That would be an ambitious undertaking and an extraordinary product. In any event, Mongol certainly is a painless way to take your history. Highly recommended.

My Personal Best

John Wooden was the greatest athletic coach this country has ever seen. His UCLA basketball teams won 11 NCAA national championships. At one point, they had an 88-game winning streak. (As an aside, I remember as a kid in 1974 watching the game where the streak was broken. John Shumate and a young Adrian Dantley led Notre Dame to the historic victory.)

So looking for a little inspiration, I just read My Personal Best: Life Lessons from an All-American Journey, a short autobiography sprinkled with anecdotes about the principles he has learned. The man's bedrock character oozes from the pages. He's all about fundamentals, in basketball and life. And the principle he stresses most is one I have held deeply through all my years of coaching kids--winning or losing is not that important, but doing your best is everything.

He includes a little poem which is as profound as any I have read:

There is a choice you have to make
In everything you do.
So keep in mind that in the end
The choice you make, makes you.

Our character is a simple function of all the many choices we make (with the more recent ones counting for more, I think). And we make new ones all day every day. These choices define us.

I've read other books by and about John Wooden (They Call Me Coach is another classic). They are all quite a bit alike. And they are all great.

Enquring Minds Finally Know

I'm going to resist the temptation to pile on recent Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, who after months of vehement denial finally admitted to carrying on an affair in 2006 with a woman his campaign hired to film campaign videos. That wouldn't be fair. If all adulterers were sent off there would be a great vacuum of power in Washington, with not enough left to mount a filibuster. Corporate boards would adjourn without mustering a quorum. And Hollywood would be reduced to a ghost town. So I'll leave Mr. Edwards to the unfortunate consequences of getting caught, which Bill Clinton has ably demonstrated diminish over time given sufficient ego and charm.

But I will share a hearty laugh about the esteemed icon of investigative journalism that first broke the story--none other than The National Enquirer. Hmmm. Maybe I need to rethink the possibility that Elvis is cleaning carpets in South Dakota, or that there really is a Rottweiler that whistles Edelweiss.

July Quotes

"What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients. Hence, a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention."
--Herbert Simon, Nobel Memorial Prize in Economics

"Work as though you would live forever, and live as though you would die today."
--Og Mandino

"As if you could kill time without injuring eternity."
--Henry David Thoreau, Walden

"He who asks questions is a fool for five minutes. He who does not ask questions is a fool forever."
--Chinese Proverb

"I speak without exaggeration when I say that I have constructed three thousand different theories in connection with the electric light, yet only in two cases did my experiments prove the truth of my theory."
--Thomas Edison

"The more you know, the more you care."
--Sam Walton

"In twenty percent of the world's most primitive languages, the word for belief is the same as the word for do. It is only when people get more sophisticated that they begin to separate the meaning of one word for the other."
--From "Talent is Never Enough," by John C. Maxwell

"And will you succeed? Yes indeed, yes indeed! Ninety-eight and three-quarters percent guaranteed."
--Dr. Seuss

"To know anything well involves a profound sensation of ignorance."
--John Ruskin

"There is a choice you have to make
In everything you do,
So keep in mind that in the end
The choice you make makes you.
--John Wooden, My Personal Best


"She's got gaps. I got gaps. Together, we fill the gaps."
--Rocky Balboa, talking about Adrian.

Fooled by Randomness

Nissam Taleb is a former Wall Street trader with a cynical take on success in his industry. In fact, he believes that much of the success and failure in the market (and by extension, life in general) can be explained by randomness. To prove his point, his book Fooled by Randomness introduces an eclectic array of logical and philosophical support, from Hume’s argument against induction to the Turing Test to Popper’s theory on theories (which is that no theories can be proved true—there are only theories that have been proven false and theories which have yet to be proven false).

Despite Taleb’s rather arrogant and sometimes abrasive tone, Fooled by Randomness is an entertaining read. It struck me as a treatise on logic for our society, continually exposing the irrationality of many of our assumptions on life. And while he never leaves the financial world for too long, the sting of his arguments can be felt in other fields as well.

The whole randomness argument is keenly interesting and broadly relevant, although often counter-intuitive. Random variations account for quite a bit of financial success in our world, yet our society lauds those that have made money and assumes they possess some secret alchemy. On Wall Street, if the successful keep trading they are often eventually exposed, sometimes very ignominiously. (In the balance of the business world, the fortunately wealthy often move on to become venture capitalists or angel investors, all the better to maintain the illusion of their business prowess.)

It’s when he is illustrating his points that Taleb is most convincing. For example, I can translate the principle of random success into a compelling scam. Suppose I send 5000 people a letter with a bold prediction that a certain volatile stock will increase. And then I send a different 5000 people the opposite prediction. I turn out to be right with half of them. So I do it again, with a different volatile stock, now split 2500/2500. And this can continue, with a small investment in stamps and envelopes, until a few hundred people view my remarkable track record and are convinced that I’m a stock-picking genius. Clever scam indeed, but the corollary truth that makes it possible is that even if monkeys are making trades, a certain percentage of them will be wildly successful, earning millions in commissions and guest spots on MSNBC. Think about that the next time your investment banker pal pulls up in his Ferrari.

There’s a lot more. Taleb delightfully points out how we misuse and are misled by statistics, how our beliefs are warped by biases (the survivorship bias, availability bias, etc.), and how our decisions and conclusions, even from intelligent and educated people, can often be driven by irrational heuristics. (Example: People think it is more likely that a major earthquake will occur in California than that one will occur in the United States.)

And with every example I found myself laughing at how painfully ridiculous we are in our feeble thinking. Shakespeare said it best, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “What fools these mortals be!”

Founding Brothers

Sam wanted to focus on American history in his summer school, so one of the books I assigned him was Founding Brothers, by Joseph Ellis. I hadn't read it for a number of years, so taking it up again to prepare Sam's questions proved every bit as enjoyable as the first time, mainly because I had forgotten so much.

I am continually amazed at how little things have changed in government and politics. It is still a dirty business, illuminated occasionally by rays of idealism and glimmers of self-sacrifice. The extraordinary men who founded and led the early days of our country--Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Hamilton, Madison, etc. were each flawed and tragic in their own ways, yet managed contributions that betimes soared above the fray to give rise to their fledgling nation. These were men of courage and conviction, of intellectual rigor and unfailing industry, who came together in that golden hour of opportunity to shape the history of the world.

There are other books on the period equally as good--McCullough's John Adams and 1776 are terrific. But Founding Brothers is an easy read with what feels like a fresh perspective. Highly recommended.

It is impossible to know the full measure of a man--his soul, his will, his judgment, until he is seen practicing government and law.
---Sophocles, in Antigone

Oh Zion!

Just returned from a family vacation in beautiful Zion National Park. We rented a house in Zion Ponderosa Ranch and once again had a terrific time, hitting a few favorite canyons (Subway and Birch Hollow) and a few new ones (Fat Man's Misery and Spry). We all enjoyed the Parunuweap at the bottom of Misery--gorgeous river. Merritt and I also took a new approach to Subway--Das Boot is very cool--labyrinthine water-filled tunnels that were dark, foreboding and beautiful.

The park never ceases to amaze me with its wonders, and I am so happy when my children appreciate it as well. Many of us find The Subway one of the most lovely places on Earth. Rebecca descended Birch Hollow for the first time and immediately pronounced it her favorite canyon ever. Lanee again proclaimed that she thought Zion was the most beautiful place she had ever been.

Truman Allen, Courtney's boyfriend, got his first taste of canyoneering. He did very well and had "an awesome vacation." Ryan got his second taste of ropes and looked quite comfortable. He seemed to be enjoying himself and the canyons more than ever. And Layla and MJ spent each day playing with grandma and aunts and uncles and enjoying all the attention.

On Thursday, Sam and I closed the trip in Spry Canyon, which has more vertical descent in a shorter span than anything I have done. It's 11 rappels are relentless, jam-packed in a one-mile technical stretch. Lots of mucky water and one unplanned rope ascension, but that was all part of the fun.

I am a little selfish in this, but it is about the perfect vacation for me. I enjoy camping, but there is certainly something to be said for coming out of the canyons to a shower, hot tub and hot, tasty meal, then a sound sleep in a soft bed before doing it again the next day. Life is good.

Jasmine 1997 - 2008

Jasmine left this world yesterday. It was an agonizing decision for all of us. It was clear that she was failing, suffering the degenerative effects of diabetes. She hobbled around the house much of the time, finding obscure corners to lie down in, seeking solitude where in the past she rarely missed an opportunity for sociality. Her eyes were starting to cloud over, the early stages of blindness, and even the most delectable of dog treats were no longer met with enthusiasm and gusto.

Yet she was still very much alive, and as we contemplated the decision, each time we saw her break into a trot, or her tail wag, or give a hearty bark, we wondered if our dreadful countdown was really synchronized with our moral compasses. Yet the bad times were beginning to dominate the good, and my heart ached for her when she uncontrollably urinated in the house, right in front of us, then slinked away in embarrassment.

Before long I will only remember the good times, of which there were plenty. She was the perfect dog for our family. Scruffy-looking with an under-bite, she was full of enthusiasm and always up for an adventure, but also content to sit on the couch and watch a movie with the family. She was great with children, as many passed through our house over the years. And she showed a special affinity for the grandchildren, and extraordinary patience as they pulled her tail or sat on her, and occasionally poked her in the eyes in their clumsy efforts to pet her. Jazzy seemed to understand their innocence, and also that Layla and MJ were family and deserved her most tender treatment and attention.

She made friends easily, which contributed to her never-ending wanderlust through our neighborhoods. More than once she was “rescued” on a busy street away from home, and returned with an offer to keep her if she was available. Almost universally, our neighbors loved her. Steve Littlefield, who lives next door, bought treats for her, and even Christmas presents, and was delighted when she came over to visit and walked nonchalantly into his house. The mailman took pleasure in her greetings, and let her come in his truck into visit.

I remember fondly the times we took her backpacking. Even in the hot Utah canyons she would keep up with the group, although when we climbed we sometimes had to give her a lift to the next level. But surprisingly, she usually found a way, with her short little legs and long body. Whenever we encountered a pool of water she would enthusiastically jump in, swimming and splashing and barking, her little Yorkshire/dachshund body under the surface, and her nose sticking out, looking a bit like a muskrat just learning to swim. Her frenetic yelping in the water caused strangers to think she was drowning, and once in Orlando someone called the fire department to rescue her when she wandered in a nearby pond for a dip.

Jazz was perhaps most famous for her daily task, which was to retrieve the newspaper from the end of the driveway. It was her job, and I think made her feel worthwhile, knowing she was making an important contribution to the household (especially given her rather dubious watchdog talents). First thing every morning we would let her out and she would race down to the end of the driveway, do her business, and return with the paper in her mouth, for which she usually received the reward of a single Milk Bone, a fair wage in her mind for an honest task performed. (And doubled when we started getting the Wall Street Journal.) She wasn’t always perfect at it. Sometimes she would be distracted by birds, squirrels or chipmunks, or hampered by the weather. In Park City when the snow reached as high as her head she sometimes struggled mightily to climb the steps. But she was always enthusiastic about her duty, and persevered when she could, which is more than most people can say about their jobs.

With so many fond memories it was hard for us to say good-bye. But yesterday afternoon Sam took her to the vet for the injection, then brought her body home and buried her deep in the garden. We planted an apple tree above her, which was both sentimental and fitting, since apple cores were always one of her favorite foods. This morning when I walked down the stairs I thought I heard the tinkling of her collar, and I suppose every day when I retrieve the paper I will think of her.

Jasmine was a good dog, and I think that being kind to all and loved by many is an epitaph all of us could aspire to. She was our family pet, so fulfilled the measure of her creation. She had a special relationship with each of us. She remembered all the children and was excited when they would return home. And perhaps one day, depending upon how the eternities are organized, she will greet us again, tail wagging wildly, jumping enthusiastically to our thighs, happy to see us return.

Hiking Olympus

The highlight of an otherwise very low-key July 4th weekend was my annual hike up Mt. Olympus. Rebecca and I were on the trail at 6:10 a.m. and made it to the saddle before 9:00a, just before the sun crept over the ridge, which made for great hiking. The clambor to the top is always the most fun, and we enjoyed a nice snack while overlooking the vast Salt Lake Valley, despite the emerging haze.

It's always a tough hike, although I was in better shape this year than the last two. It's not the 3.2 miles each way, but the 4200-foot elevation gain that takes it out of you. Still, although a little tired Saturday afternoon, I felt pretty good. It's definitely coming back.

It's a little tradition that I've grown to look forward to, usually on a summer holiday weekend. And we vowed to keep doing it, at least until we have taken the grandchildren. That's a good incentive for staying in shape. And, of course, the satisfaction of knowing the gravitational pull of age does not keep you from scaling great heights.

June Quotations

"The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas."
--Linus Pauling, Nobel Prize-winning scientist

"An expert is a person who has made all the mistakes that can be made in a very narrow field."
--Niels Bohr, Danish physicist and Nobel Prize winner

"Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid."
--Heinrich Heine, German critic and poet

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
--Albert Einstein

"I can't give you a surefire formula for success, but I can give you a formula for failure: Try to please everybody all the time."
--Herbert Bayard Swope

"Everything popular is wrong."
--Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

"Many a false step was made by standing still."
--Fortune Cookie

"Named must your fear be before banish it you can."
--Yoda

"Perfection is not when there is no more to add, but no more to take away."
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of The Little Prince

"Love of bustle is not industry."
--Seneca

"There is never a good sale for Neiman Marcus unless it is a good buy for the customer."
--Herbert Marcus

"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."
-- Aristotle

"Learning to ignore things is one of the great paths to internal peace."
--Robert J. Sawyer

"The smallest deed is greater than the largest intention."
--Camilla Eyring Kimball

"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."
--Dr. Seuss

"All happy families resemble each other, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
--Tolstoy

In The Box

Sam had recently heard about the book Leadership and Self-Deception, so for his "summer school" I assigned it to him to read. I hadn't read it either, although I was quite familiar with the concepts from our Anasazi experience, and also from Terry Warner's The Bonds that Make us Free. Nevertheless, I decided to read it, to brush up on the concepts.

Ouch. It all came back to me quickly and with penetrating conviction. The Box. I spend so much time in The Box. What is that, you ask? It's a psychological barrier we put around ourselves to justify the fact that we aren't seeing or treating others as people, just as important as we are. Rather, we treat them as objects, things of utility either to help us meet our needs and desires, or barriers that must be dealt with. When we're "in the box" we lie to ourselves to justify our behavior. We rationalize. Yep, that's been me; lots of times. Every day, in fact.

But it's not only our behavior, because in the world of business I've learned to manage much of that. Our attitudes are the thing. Even when we smile and manage problems according to the book, if we don't really see others as people, every bit as important as we are, then we are in the box, and all the textbook problem management skills are a cover-up and a manipulation. Over the years I have become convinced that whenever I find myself rationalizing my behavior, mentally justifying my actions, I am in the wrong and I know it. I am once again practicing the tragic art of self-betrayal.

When I first learned about the teachings of the Arbinger Institute I thought they were the most profound and moving principles I had ever encountered. And in truth, some have stayed with me ever since--disciplines and attitudes that I practice on an almost daily basis. But so many others I had lost track of, and as I read Leadership and Self-Deception I was kicking myself for not remembering it all, as if I had lost some years of my life when I should have been a better person. I again committed to be more diligent.

Leadership and Self-Deception is a quick read but one with overwhelming power and relevancy to everyone. I just put it on my calendar to reread annually. Highly recommended.

Japanese Face Fat Fines

No, I don't mean big fines. I mean, literally, fines for being fat. How cool is that (he said, after having lost 20 lbs this year!)? Yep, CNN reports that a new Japanese law requires companies to measure the waists of all their employees over 40 years of age. Men must come in under 33.5 inches, and women under 35.5. (What, no outcry over gender and age discrimination, much less the obvious obesity bias? Where the heck is the Japanese ACLU?) If the companies don't show improvement, they could face hefty (smirk) fines or increases in their insurance premiums. So not only will those on the plump side have a hard time finding a date, but they will be considered a liability at work as well. What to do when faced with such social stigma? Ben and Jerry-son?

I expect that this corporate blubber tax will have some interesting effects. Companies will be incented to educate their employees, encourage (pressure) them to lose weight, eliminate junk food vending machines, provide exercise programs and finally (a real shocker in Japan) fire the chunksters.

The new deal is being met with some enthusiasm. Posters in Japan feature rotund cartoon figures with buttons popping off their pants urging people to overcome "metabo." Weight-loss groups in Japan exercise together, singing inspirational songs with lyrics such as "Goodbye, metabolic. Let's get our checkups together. Go! Go! Go!" (Not only is this questionable song-writing, but blaming metabolism vs. that samurai-sized bag of Cheetos tucked under your kimono seems to me like a country not quite ready to face reality.)

But really, I think the Japanese law is a great idea. In fact, we should expand this to the U.S. right away. Hmmmm ... fat chance.