Dreams

I was listening to an interview on the radio. A woman who scientifically studies dreams.

One thing she said was that we all share some dream themes, and she elaborates on the more common. Heading the list is that you're sitting in a class. They're passing out an exam, calling for a term paper or something else that you're unprepared for. Panic sets in.

I taught in a weekend college for a little over a dozen years. You know what you dream about when you teach? You're standing in front of a class and you have no lecture and don't know anything about the subject. Panic sets in.

The youngest

It's early in the day, but my email box is already starting to fill with birthday greetings from high school classmates. Mostly goodnatured ribbing about being the baby of the class. That's fine with me. It's not often anymore that I'm the youngest in a group.

I don't think many realized this when we were in school, but the fact emerged at a reunion not long ago. I was the target of some faux envy for my "youth."

What they don't realize is that my small "advantage" over them now doesn't compensate for the disadvantage back in school. Not driving until halfway through my junior year was a significant drawback. I was constantly hustling to sponge rides to practices, meetings, dances and parties. Dating was an exercise in logistics, as was cutting school.

Yes, there were late school busses for teams and other activities, and I grew up in a city that had ample public transportation. But, that was a pain in the butt and quite lame at the time.

I'd trade a few months of age now for driving earlier back then. Although, this morning I did have a "gift" that most of them would overlook.

As I fired up the car this morning, I just had to smile. Nice to have the the convenience.

Archaic Management Theory

This morning we had our monthly board meeting. The executive director of the organization is not a member of the board, but I preside over the meeting.

Afterwards, one of the board members, a local executive, came into my office to shoot the breeze. Kerry stuck her head through the doorway, saw Mark and said she’d come back later. I told her to come in. Some executive directors prefer to be the conduit between the organization and the board. I encourage direct contact. It gives them a better sense of each other.

Kerry handed me a file with a brief explanation. She said we could talk about it when I’d had a chance to review it, and left.

“I didn’t know you hired a program development manager.”

“I didn’t. She created this proposal on her own initiative. Probably on her own time.”

“I wish we had employees like that.”

He probably does. Virtually all companies do. They just don’t tap the resource.

I think many manage by task or process, neglecting the human element. You encourage proactive contribution and reward it. You prohibit destructive or lethargic behavior and provide consequences for it. With the exception of sales departments, many companies seem to have a fairly neutral approach, except for extreme examples.

Kerry’s initiative doesn’t surprise me at all. We have monthly “town meetings” for the employees, in which I share the vision and challenges of the organization, and we discuss them. Kerry was attentive from the start of her employment.

After a few months, she came to me with an idea for a project and obtaining a grant to fund it. She said that if I decided to go ahead with it, she’d like to be involved. I asked her if she’d like to lead it.

She implemented the plan, obtained a grant and it was up and running. I thought this called for more than just maybe a lunch and pat on the back. I casually probed some of her cohorts, seeking a clue for a more personalized reward. Kerry had been talking about taking a trip to California, but didn’t have enough vacation time built up to do all she wanted to.

I called her into my office. I gave her two extra days of vacation and our associate director presented her with a framed certificate of appreciation (it augments positive reinforcement to have something tangible).

So, it’s not surprising that she and other performers come up with ways to enhance the organization. Advanced organizational behavior theory? The latest pop management miracle, available on DVD?

Forty years ago, I’m in a city public school, not especially known for management excellence. If you make a contribution to a team, you get presented with a letter for your varsity jacket. If you don’t, you get cut.

Not rocket science.

I Get It

I met Lou about twenty-five years ago. He had sold his large company for a goodly sum and was starting his little dream business. If you can make your hobby your business, it's never like going to work.

Antique powerboats. Those magnificent sculptures in mahogany.

I was invited to the grand opening of his little shop, but didn't go. It would be too tempting. These crafts struck a chord with me and I already had too many powerboats.

A few months ago, I ran into Lou. The business had grown, but he asked me for some help with the marketing. We walked through the warehouse, which contained dozens of beautiful specimens from an age gone by. Lou rattled off the standard selling points. Why buy an expensive, new fiberglass boat that will lose half its value the day you plop it into the water?

Wait a minute. Something rings a bell here. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it did come into focus as I drove home.

Year back, I was starting a company and had been out shopping for office furniture. No small investment.

Before I made my decision, a girlfriend wanted to spend a weekend antique hunting. I had little interest, but that's one of the things you do to build up your bank of points.

Walking through a shop, I came upon an oaken rolltop desk. That would look great in my new office. But, how do you justify such an extravagance? I was moving on when the wheels started turning. Whoa. Back up the bus.

Instead of just buying a desk for myself, I could furnish the whole office in antique furniture. I'd get the tax benefit of depreciation, as I would with new stuff, except the value would maintain or increase, instead of going down. And, we'd have really neat stuff.

Lou had looked at me to see if I understood the sales pitch. I got it. A long time before the stroll through his warehouse.

My Greatest Whiffs

Sherm and I get together after work maybe six times a year. Our schedules just don’t overlap much. Since he’s crisscrossing the country, I leave it to him to find a crack in his schedule and call. He does some interesting things, so I always look forward to hearing about it. He called last week and invited me to breakfast.

This is new. Breakfast? Something was up, but I could wait to find out.

So, the day came and I showed up at the appointed place. Sherm was on time. Something was really up. We ordered. No sense wasting time. I asked what was on his mind.

Sherm is a wheeler dealer in the national market for major commercial real estate. He and some deep pocket investors were looking at an office building and doing a walk-through. They stopped to talk to one of the tenants, the executive director of a nonprofit that advocates a particular technology. He enthralled them with a concept of a potential product that would apply this technology.

On the way home, they forgot about the building and talked about starting a company to make the product. May sound weird, but that’s how some of these things go down. I went to Texas once to see a company about making a part for me, and wound up buying the company.

They each kicked in some seed capital to explore the design and potential for this product. It looked like it held some promise. It was time to tee it up and drive it, or get off the course. But, who had the time or the inclination? Sherm’s got his real estate thing and the other guys make their dough shuffling money around. Which brings us to the breakfast.

“I wanted to see what your appetite is for this. We give you fifty grand to take the concept and run with it. There’s another fifty when design is finalized and chips hit the floor (tooling commences – I’m impressed he’s already picked up product development jargon). Another fifty when you get the bell cow contract to do a full production run. Then, 20% of NBT (net before tax) for three years, or 20% of purchase price, should we sell the company. Sweet, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? You get a nice piece of the action without putting up a dime. This is a home run.”

“Do you have any idea what it takes to get a new product to market? Not to mention the fact that this technology advocate has probably floated the idea to fifty other people. He isn’t just sitting around, waiting for people to walk down his hallway.”

“I’ve been in real estate development for almost three decades. Trust me, I know what hurdles are. I’m sure there are things I don’t see here, which is why I came to you. But, it’s a can’t-miss.”

“Then, you should appreciate why I’m not pushing my way to the front of the line to leap off the cliff. I’m covered in the scar tissue of can’t-miss ideas.”

That I am. But, taking the high hard one is part of the game. You don’t get to jack one out of the park unless you’re willing to stand in the box.

I recall some of my greatest whiffs. Let’s call these scenarios hypothetical and fictitious to protect the innocent.

I’m at a coal conference in Denver years ago. The buzz is the problem of new sulfur emissions standards that have caused a major shift in the supply chain for utilities. Most had been burning high-BTU (energy) coal, and transportation via barge or ship made the delivered cost low. But, the quick shift in requirements was not paced by stack scrubber technology. So, sourcing shifted to low-sulfur western coal.

The conference agenda included a jaunt to newly mined coal fields in Gillette, Wyoming. While the seams were large, it was low-BTU coal. And, it had to be railed long distances. So now, you’re burning a lot more coal (because of the low energy content) creating more fly ash waste and emissions, plus you have the additional energy use and pollution stemming from longer hauling with less efficient means. Yeah, that legislation was really thought out.

Okay, this was a political knee-jerk move. Good. Just the kind of thing that creates opportunities.

Reducing it to a simple equation, if someone could reduce the cost, someone could make a buck. So, find low-sulfur coal that was either closer, or that could be mined and/or delivered at less cost.

I found some defunct mines in Alaska. It was a short haul down to Cook Inlet. There were some bears and Indians in between. Yeah, I said Indians. It was an Indian reservation, so they were Indians. A few meetings were arranged with the Indians and they were cooperative. There were a couple impromptu meetings with the bears. Not so cooperative. But, not a big problem.

Once at the inlet, you drop the coal into huge ships and haul it down to the waterside utilities of the major west coast cities. They’re happy to get it at greatly reduced cost. I make a pile of dough. Nothing is ever that simple. This was not that simple.

There were three things I learned in due course. First, the tides of the northern latitudes have big swings. I knew that, but didn’t realize how much difference that would make in terminal design and cost. That’s added expense and operating complexities.

The second thing I learned was that no one wanted to invest in ships the size I had envisioned for outstanding economy of scale. The upper limit was Panamax. This is the term for the maximum size that will fit through the locks of the Panama Canal. Should the enterprise go belly up, you wanted a ship that could be used in other trade, or that was salable to someone in another business.

The final lesson was a real kidney punch. Because the ship would operate between two American ports, the law requires that it be an American Flag vessel. The Jones Act was another political snafu, enacted to appease powerful unions and other lobbyists. It stacked the deck to favor these special interests, although the company line was that it was that it was to ensure that the U.S. maintains a fleet staffed by U.S. crews and owned by U.S. companies. Since it was rooted in government think, it essentially decimated the domestic merchant marine. The unions lobbied for this, thinking they were creating a gold mine for shipbuilding labor and ship crew. It wiped out their jobs and domestic ship building and operation. Bravo.

That’s why you see so many tankers, container ships, etc. with “Monrovia” painted on the stern. Liberia will gladly register your ship, and take the fee. They have lower standards for construction, crew, etc., so your costs are low. Much lower than American Flag vessels. To digress, this also led to the development of the integrated tug-barge, that skirted the American Flag requirements. It made no sense from an engineering, operations or safety standpoint. A design that made no sense, except in the artificial and illogical world of politics. What is inflated cost and some dead sailors when there are campaign contributions to be had?

Okay, so I rework the numbers and it’s still cheaper than railing the coal over the mountains and all the way to the west coast. Time to call on some utilities and close the deals. I can save them millions. It’ll be the easiest sale I ever made.

Not interested. Huh? How can you possibly not be interested? I can save you and your customers millions of dollars? Just not interested.

The project died on the vine. It would be years before I could backtrack and figure it out, and even then I couldn’t get total confirmation. But, this is a hypothetical story.

Utilities are limited on how much profit they can make. After all, they’re granted a virtual monopoly, so it wouldn’t do to permit them to gouge the good citizens. Utility commissions capped the profit margin and protected the taxpayers. Or, did they?

You’re a utility and, thanks to the monopoly, you’re making a decent buck, even though you’re limited on how much you can make generating power. It’s still a can’t-lose. But, that’s not good enough for you.

You have to buy low-sulfur coal from someone. Or, do you?

Why not just acquire some coal mines, through some convoluted channels, and sell yourself coal at a high price and profit margin? They can limit your profit margin on electricity, but not how much you pay for coal. As your costs go up, you raise the rates and maintain your acceptable profit margin on electricity. And, those higher costs are just going into your other pocket, where you make the real dough off the consumers.

Suppose this young buck comes along, then, and says he can get you coal much cheaper, saving you and the consumers millions? Well, then you’d lose your fat coal profits from selling to yourself. Not interested.

Whiff number two begins with the emergence of the VCR. After the consumer feeding frenzy, they’re looking at secondary markets. Some bright soul sees the potential in training. VCRs are sold en masse to a large auto producer. The idea is that they will make sales training tapes and ship them with a VCR to each dealership.

I know people who own dealerships and what they think of direction they get from the mother ship. I smell opportunity.

I approach one of the most successful salespeople in the country. This guy cranks out cars like they’re packs of gum. The deal. We make a videotape with him telling how he does it. I market it to car dealers, who we know already have the VCRs for training. I give him a royalty on every copy sold.

This will not be a low-price tape. If it kicks up a dealer’s take only five or ten percent, it’s still worth a fortune. The deal is cut.

Fortunately, I’d been doing a lot of direct marketing, even though the science of it was still in its infancy. I knew enough to do a test mailing before going to the expense of rolling out to every dealer in the country. You have printing, postage, list rental and the mailing house (labeling, stuffing and sorting). Not cheap. You test before you go full out.

I know I’ll get at least 50% of the response within ten days of the drop. I eagerly wait to read the entrails. And, I’m already deciding which model Harley to buy with the initial profits.

The mailing bombs. Not, didn’t do that well. Not, falls short of expectations. Not, didn’t cover the investment. It bombs.

I review the mailed package. You always put some seed names in the list so you receive them and have a good idea of what and when recipients got. No major gaffs, like they forgot to enclose a return envelope or something. I flip through a printout of the list that was used, going to zip codes where I know the dealerships. They’re on there with correct addresses. No easy answer, so it’s time to pry the cover off the back of this thing and poke around the innards.

I start calling dealers who received the mailer to see exactly what their reaction was. I’m not getting through to many of them. Those I do get on the line are tap-dancing. I’m getting nothing.

I’ve had some foul tips before, but never a complete whiff. Sometimes you pick the wrong color for a response card, others, the wrong benefit for envelope copy. But, you get something back. I needed to know why this tanked.

Into the car and off to the dealerships. It’s not that I expected the general managers to talk. The salespeople would talk. They always talk.

As with many things, it’s not what you see that tips you off. It’s what you don’t see. No VCRs.

As near as I can tell, the dealers received the VCRs and training tapes from the manufacturer. Some of them might’ve even watched the factory tape before pitching it. Then, they took the VCRs home and hooked them up in their family rooms. VCRs were expensive then, so this was quite a plum. Why didn’t I guess?

When my promotion arrives, they don’t need a training tape at the dealership. They don’t have a VCR there to play it. The promotion bombs.

The problem with getting a brainstorm is that you get so excited, it blinds you. Cognitive dissonance sets in and you overlook key facts that contradict your sunny scenario.

I told Sherm that I wasn’t slamming the door on his foot. But, I’d do my own research before answering.

Turning on the Juice

A couple years ago, I was in an antique shop and stumbled across “Assignment in Space” by Blake Savage. Ah, a cherished tome from my youth. The exploits of Rip Foster, a young space cadet, published in 1958. Outer space was heady stuff back then.

A few weeks ago, I was browsing through a funky little used book store and made another find. “The Rocket’s Shadow” and “The Phantom Shark,” both part of the Rick Brant Electronic Adventures series, authored by John Blaine. In fact, the former was the first book in the series. Think Hardy Boys, except that every time Brant ran up against a tricky adversary, he “invented” an electronic device to defeat him. Had me assembling Heathkits for years.

Heathkits were ham radios, stereo amplifiers, measuring instruments and other devices you made yourself. There was a lot of wire stripping and soldering, not simply snapping in a couple circuit boards. Lessons in electronics were woven into the instructions.

The connection between the two book purchases? Savage and Blaine were pseudonyms for Hal Goodwin, who had a rich career in the military and science (including NASA). He imbued his books with a good deal of science, making them educational as well as interesting.

There was more than scientific inculcation going on here, in the midst of the Cold War. Foster was a cadet in the military of the Federation of Free Governments – the good guys. FFG for short. They did everything the righteous way.

The claim-jumping, sleazy opposition was the Consops – the bad guys. Connies for short. Connies, commies? Not real subtle.

But, Goodwin was writing for the youth market, so his blatancy was welcome. A decade later, I was struggling to detect the symbolism in Hemingway, so I appreciate any signposts provided, even the overkill. You are tipped off from the start of the Rick Brant series. The skinny scientist is named Dr. Stringfellow. The villain is Wessel (weasel?). No danger of spraining a brain lobe trying to noodle this out.

Not all lessons were benign. In one book, Brant converts the ignition coil from a car to a shocking device. The forerunner of the taser? It gives a mild jolt to the bad guy, enabling Brant to get the jump on him. I was into tinkering with cars and this caught my fancy.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out, and I had access to a lot of junk cars. A couple fittings and a few minutes; I had my shocker. Now, how do I test it?

Even though the shock in the book seemed little more than a slight discomfort, I dismissed the idea of trying it on myself. I ruled out Boots, my dog. That would be cruel. I thought about trapping a muskrat by the river, but even that seemed inhumane.

Then, Steve occurred to me. The Eddie Haskell of the neighborhood. I had administered some “corrections” to Steve a couple times, but it left telltale marks and had gotten me into trouble. Giving him a remedial dose of current might be a better alternative. In his case, it wouldn’t be cruel. More like a service to mankind.

You never had to wait long for Steve to give you a reason. I applied the mild correction. Except, it turned out to not be that mild. And, it did leave a mark, since he slammed up against the wall like he was shot out of a howitzer. Oh well, live and learn.

Steve reminded me of this incident at a recent high school reunion. If I didn’t regret it then, I sure didn’t now. Steve would be a lot better person today if he had been electrocuted on a weekly basis.

I feasted on these books as a youth. So, I couldn’t wait to dive into them, now.

Yeah, things are never quite the way you remember them. I’m older and more experienced, and certainly the information and style are dated. But, it was still a kick to share a soldering iron with Rick Brant, again.

I heard that

In the Sunday newspaper, there's a review of a new show coming onto cable. It's about a chemistry teacher turning into a drug dealer.

The Gannett News writer notes that cable has been migrating to anti-hero based shows, centering on drug dealers, killers, con men and ad guys. Excuse me?

When did advertising professionals fall into equivalency with dealers, contract killers, et al? At least to the point where you assume there's enough consensus that you casually flick that jab out there?

I'm amused. Paging Vance Packard...

In winter, thoughts turn to...

“You’re wearing that?” How many guys have heard that, how many times?

“That would appear to be the case.”

“You look like you’re going on an arctic expedition, not to a dinner party.”

“It’s going down to single digits. This is an arctic expedition.”

“Everyone will be dressed up. Well, dressy casual.”

“They’ll be cold and looking at someone dressed like me. I’ll be warm and looking at attractive dinner attire. I like my position.”

She shrugs and I help her into her stylish, albeit thin coat. We go outside and she lets out a yip. That’ll teach ya.

I start the car and she immediately turns on the seat heater on her side. Or, as she fondly refers to it, the “bun warmer.” We reverse roles on this, another repeated topic of debate. She loves this device. To her, it’s a bun warmer. To me, it’s a nut roaster.

Having cocktails, Ken is regaling me with his latest exploits on the squash court. He tends to punctuate his stories with hand gestures, and is sloshing around his wine. He’s really into a tale of his latest triumph, but can’t seem to keep his eyes off my pants. “Those are…”

“Ski pants.”

“Oh. I suppose they are warm.”

“And, they repel merlot.” Also, vomit, urine and blood, which is why I wear them to work.

Next morning, I’m standing in my driveway. I came out to go somewhere in my car, but my eye is caught by some birds.

My neighbor comes out to get his newspaper. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Watching those cardinals.”

“Are you crazy? It’s five degrees!” I’m in a parka and he’s wearing a bathrobe.

When we think of innovation and progress, many look at communications, transportation or medicine. I think of clothing. Of course, I’m outside a lot.

I can remember the first time being cold. Really cold.

Philadelphia isn’t one of the northern-most cities, but it gets cold enough in winter. Junior high football was played on Friday afternoons, so it wasn’t so bad. Senior high was a different story.

It wasn’t just that the time frame shifted to evenings. Somewhere along the line, it had been decided that dominant teams shouldn’t just sit in their own backyards and beat up on the lesser fry. A league should be created to pit them against each other, regardless of travel distance.

So, our Friday night forays ventured beyond the relative protection of a city in a southern corner of the state, into the foothills of the Pocono and Allegheny Mountains. That was cold. Or, PFC, as we used to say. P was for “pretty” and C was for “cold.”

The worst I remember wasn’t the coldest, from an air temperature standpoint. We were playing one of the Allentown teams. It had snowed the night before. Daytime brought brilliant sunlight. The temperature was dropping back down rapidly as we prepared to play, but the field was a sea of wet slush. You were soaked from the first play, and definitely PFC. It was brutal.

The following year, I was a senior and we were facing a very cold game. The coach stood in front of us at practice and dangled a garment in front of our puzzled faces. “I suggest you go out and get one of these.”

A leotard? For football players? The team broke out laughing. Except for me and some of the other veterans of the Allentown game. I would’ve worn a spaghetti strap gown if I thought it would’ve made a difference.

Kicking plays were one of my favorite parts of the game. I always volunteered for special teams. Getting a half-field running start and making a hit at full stride…man, it doesn’t get any better than that.

Except, when it’s frigid. You come to understand the meaning of “bone jarring.” I gladly went out and bought a leotard. Hid it from my father, though. An old boxer, he already thought football plays were sissies. “Christ, almighty. Ya hafta wear all those pads and a helmet ta bump inta each other? I’ll bet you guys squat to take a pee.”

Fast forward a decade and I’m getting into backpacking, canoeing and other outdoor stuff. Your life can depend on effective insulation, especially if water is involved. The choices were wool, wool or wool.

Well, you could buy a neoprene diving suit, but they were pretty expensive at the time. Most of us haunted the army navy stores, buying up used Dutch combat pants, British commando sweaters, etc.

The stuff was bulky, itchy, heavy, stiff and smelled like dead goat when it was wet. But, it was warm. Even when wet.

Or, that was the theory. One blustery November day, I had the opportunity to test it. I wiped out, paddling my canoe down a rapid on Paint Creek. I was wearing layers of wool, but the cold water hit me like a taser.

I had a long swim and it didn’t seem to warm up. It didn’t feel much better on shore. The wind causes evaporation, which chills. But, even dry, I never thought that wool was the ultimate protection in cold weather.

A couple decades later, I’m watching the birds in comfort. Polypro underwear and socks. Thinsulate in the boots and parka. The parka and pants have wind-block shells. Under the coat, I’m wearing a hoodie that used to be marketed by The North Face. It may be the warmest thing I’ve ever worn.

I wouldn’t have paid full price when they were producing them. But, I stumbled across this one in a clearance sale. The first time I donned it was when the sun was dipping during a late winter kayak camping trip. Oh yeah. That works.

So, this morning it’s five degrees out, but I’m warm, have freedom of movement and don’t itch. That’s progress.

Interesting self-test

Sit in a chair. Pick your right foot up an inch or so and rotate clockwise it in a circle. When you've got this going, start drawing 6's in the air in front of you with your right hand.

If your foot keeps going clockwise, okay. If it changes direction, contact me.

An email from Francisco

The weather’s been cold and gloomy. That seems to have an impact on everyone, but especially our clientele; the mentally ill.

More malicious, delusional, paranoid and negative behavior. Makes for a long day.

I finally get home and fire up the computer to check on some boards I moderate. There’s an email from Francisco. Suddenly, the world is sunny.

A couple years ago, I did a kayak trip on Sea of Cortez islands off Baja, Mexico. I didn’t know the area, so I signed up for a guided expedition. Francisco was the lead guide. So, why do I hear from him?

I hear from all the people who were part of that. Immediately after the trip, we established a web site to share photos and we just stayed in touch. I’m still in contact with people from high school, college, companies I managed, etc., but those were long-term relationships.

Maybe it was the mix of people, which was very interesting and diverse. One guy lived in the backwoods of Oregon. He and some other scientists had a particle accelerator they worked with. He said he’d get up in the morning, stroll down the street in his bathrobe to property owned by one of the partners and worked till noon. Then he’d walk home to have lunch with his wife and get into some clothes. The others were equally intriguing, if not as eccentric.

Or, it could’ve been enduring the trial of the trip together, and prevailing. Baja is dessert. Not much rain. The week we were island hopping, a hurricane came through. Copious amounts of water running over arid ground with little plant life to stabilize it wreaks havoc, not to mention the other aspects of a hurricane.

On top of that, less than half the participants were experienced outdoors people, and even fewer had kayaked before. The guides had never dealt with anything like these conditions. We pulled together to get everyone through with hardly a hitch. And, had a fantastic time. That’ll create some bonding.

I don’t minimize Francisco’s leadership role. The success of the trip was a reflection of him. He knew what had to be done and managed to motivate others to follow his lead.

He grew up in Chile and had been a lawyer and a television news anchor. A very engaging and witty guy. Yet, something motivated him to “drop out.”

I’d seen it before. A whole town of them. I did a similar trip on Lake Powell. It originated in Page, Arizona, on the Utah border.

Page is three hundred miles from either Vegas or Phoenix, and a million miles from nowhere. The whole town is based on the lake, the Colorado River and red rock formations. It’s tour operators and guides. That’s about it.

They are all former somethings. Chefs, executives, engineers or whatever.

And, they all know each other and look out for one another. It’s like a commune. They all have a story about what called them away from civilization. But, no one’s talking about it.

I complimented one Page guide because I had learned something from him about minimalist packing. He asked what I meant. I pointed out that he had gotten by with essentially the same clothing the entire week we were out in the bush. He told me that was all the clothes he had, except for a winter outer layer. For that matter, he had virtually all his tangible possessions with him on the trip. Another way of life.

Anyway, Francisco and I exchanged a few emails, getting caught up. It brought back memories of wondrous sights, bucket-mixed margueritas and hilarious nights around the campfire. A reminder that there’s a big, wide world outside the office. Not a bad way to end a winter day.

Hope you bet like I did

That's one small step for LSU, one giant new kayak for me!

Bet LSU

They're favored by 3, but it'll be more like 12.

You are what you paddle

The late great Jean Shepherd wrote a piece about how the automobile marques reflected the character of their native country’s population. As I paddled a kayak manufactured in New Zealand, I wondered if there was a potential similar blog in that.

Kayaks usually don’t ship far because of the high ratios of freight cost to value, and size to weight. Essentially, you’re shipping air. But, we get some foreign brands.

Most plastic boats are rotomolded. But, the German companies favor blow molding, which yields a rigid, precise hull, not unlike the country of origin. The designs tend to follow the Teutonic way, not hot trends. I had a friend who was running a major operation for Avon in Ohio. He was promoted to president, which required relocation to Germany. He said he had just purchased a Lexus and wanted to make arrangements to ship it. There was an icy silence followed by, “We are German. We drive German cars.” He sold the Lexus before he left.

I’ve owned two South African kayaks. The Afrikaner hulls are constructed to withstand any and all assaults with extra thickness. In the event that is insufficient, the armored walls are buttressed with a rigid internal frame.

English boats follow lines that are centuries old. Tradition is everything. The outfitting is very basic. They have their manufacturing flaws, but form is everything.

The French produce several brands, but virtually the only ones we see are the Bics. Yes, that’s Bic as in pen or lighter. Definitely march to their own drum and are not going over well here.

American producers, with some exceptions, are all about mass production and creature comforts. Thankfully, they haven’t gotten around to requiring airbags and pollution control.

Characterize those New Zealanders? Well, you know those Kiwis.

Did you ever notice...

The first person in line at a red light is the last to notice it changed?

The person who always tells you exactly how the country, company, team, etc. should be run has never successfully run anything?

The people who are most vocal about spending your money (i.e. slavery reparations), are not writing checks to support the cause?

The people often described as stupid (elected officials) have better salaries and benefits than those demeaning them (who are underwriting the lifestyle for the “stupid” ones)?

You don’t see the Bill Gates’ of the world standing in line for state lottery tickets or flooding radio talk shows or web chat rooms?

The media “troubleshooters” go after the city street cleaners and police, but not duplicitous advertising businesses?

The temperature of Mars is increasing with no human intervention?

The CEO of the original Rogaine producer is bald?

The people who complain that the coaching ranks are not representative of racial cross section do not object to skewed team composition?

Colleges increase tuition when student funding rises (negating the benefit) and rates have risen much faster than the CPI, and they are still in financial difficulty?