E Pluribus Unum

I opened Facebook this morning and was reminded of another source of satisfaction from the trip I just led. There were notifications from many of the participants, “friending” each other.

There is a core of people who participate in many of our events, which is common in most activities. Then, there are the beginners who hesitate to stick their toes in the water. They have qualms about having adequate skills and/or just fitting in.

But, the group reaches out and makes them feel welcomed. What I see on Facebook confirms what I saw happening on the trip. They didn’t just enjoy the experiences of the trip. They made new friends and became part of the gang. Out of many, one. It’s a good thing.

Doing or having done so?

“I hate writing. I love having written.” The Dorothy Parker quote was tossed my way last night by a friend noting how sanguine I seemed, having returned from the somewhat complex kayak adventure I led last week. But, she was wrong.

I enjoy the research and planning. That’s where you get to make choices to optimize the event. True, there are apprehensions. Is the information accurate? Did you omit a great alternative? You have to consider that, but not dwell upon it. You can make adjustments on the fly.

The execution is another matter. I get into a focused zone making it work. In this case, we had 24 kayakers and several complicated road routes and rivers to negotiate as a coordinated group. In the midst of this (when we unsuccessfully tried to pull together an all-inclusive group photo), one of the paddlers observed that herding cats is child’s play compared to kayakers.

But, it all came together with hardly a hitch, which is the pleasure in this phase. It wouldn’t have been as easy to be serene about it if it hadn’t. But, you learn to roll with the blows. It’s a microcosm of life. There are always setbacks. You take a lesson and move on.

And yes, there is immense satisfaction when you’ve pulled it off. I can almost feel the breaths coming easier when that last boat is dragged from the water at the end of the week. There’s definitely a glow. While I did appreciate the follow-up thanks and accolades from participants, I’m in the best position to know what kind of job I did.

Faithful readers might wonder how the aforeblogged factors came off. The weather was pretty good. There were a couple cool days and some spotty rain, but nothing to interfere with the fun.

Manatees? We were virtually immersed in them. The cooler day was a blessing as they congregated at the warm spring I selected.

Partying? As predicted, this group took care of that. It didn’t matter if we were at the campground, bar or river, the party was portable. One newcomer commented that it was quite a cast of characters. Yes, and with a cast like this, who needs a script?

Unlike Ms. Parker, I enjoy the process and the outcome.

White like me

The meeting today was comprised of a small group who started their own businesses around the same time, back in the 80s. Some of those companies have come and gone, but we’ve remained in touch.

A few months ago, we got together and hatched an idea to give back to the community. We would stage seminars to help small and medium-sized businesses grow and not charge for enrollment. I liked the idea but saw a flaw in it. People are suspicious of free seminars. There’s a hook in there somewhere.

I’m not one to criticize without offering a solution. My concept was that we charge a nominal fee and donate the proceeds to a charitable, direct-service organization on a rotating basis. That is, the net from each seminar would go to a different nonprofit. Everybody wins.

At lunch today, we were discussing the plan for the first seminar. Barry kept interjecting that we have to make a strong effort to attract this minority group or that one. I pointed out that the objective was to service businesses of a particular size range, not race.

He stared at me for a couple seconds. “I just don’t want to be the only black there,”

“These are business owners, not Klansmen.”

“Henry, my white brother, you don’t know what it is to be a minority.”

Not in the sense he means. I was one in the neighborhood where I grew up. In the short run, I’ve done business in countries where they don’t like Americans and/or whites. But, he’s right.

For some reason, I thought of Larry’s Pleasure Box. That was a bar, deep in the area of Cincinnati known as Over-the-Rhine.

In college, I hung out at what was then a neighborhood bar called Murphy’s Pub. Now, it’s more college oriented. One summer, I played softball for their team. Most of the guys were blue collar.

One night, we played Larry’s Pleasure Box, which was all black players. Blacks and rednecks. University of Cincinnati colors, but the results were more incendiary on the ball field. Several fights broke out on contested plays.

Doug, the owner of Murphy’s, invited everyone down to his bar afterwards in a gesture of good sportsmanship. Or, maybe profit motive.

That was interesting. After a few rounds, some of the guys from Larry’s invited us down there. So, we piled in a few cars and followed them into the Forbidden City.

We parked fairly close and walked in. It was like the Deltas from “Animal House” showing up at the Dexter Lake Club. “Wait till Otis sees us!”

Abrupt silence and stares that could stop a charging rhino. We froze until our escorts led us back to the pool tables. Normalcy gradually returned.

We started playing for beers, but that gave way to shots. Some kind of bourbon that smelled like spar varnish but didn’t taste as good.

At some point, two things dawned on me. The first was that the sobriety line was well behind me. The second was that the stares had returned. Why is that? I looked around. My friends from Murphy’s were gone, as were the ball players of this bar who had invited us. I was the only white in Larry’s Pleasure Box very late on a Friday night. Not the optimum scenario. “If I was in your shoes, I’d be….leaving!”

I casually sauntered toward the door, reading faces that seemed to be trying to decide what to do about me. My foot hit the sidewalk in a dead sprint.

I streaked past where we had parked. Gone. No familiar cars. No familiar faces, either. White guy running through the hood. There’s a good idea. I was stumped for a better one.

Fear is a motivator and I’m pretty sure I set a personal best time in the mile. Then I hit the Clifton Avenue steep uphill and my body felt it necessary to jettison the excess liquid cargo. But, I was out of the woods. I staggered the rest of the way up to my car, a few more blocks away, parked by Murphy’s. It was closed, so there was no way to get a ride home.

It was a little over a mile to my abode and my run had cleared my head. I was able to navigate safely and live to play another game.

If that night is what Barry feels on a regular basis, he can invite any group he wants to.

Shouldering responsibility

It’s time for displacement activity to assuage anticipation anxiety, like blogging. That is, we’re a couple days away from departure of our annual spring kayaking trip and my fingers are about raw from double checking my pack. Everyone on the trip is getting giddier by the hour at this point, as evidenced by my email inbox.

I tried to preempt some of this by admonishing them not to set expectations in stone. Come what may, just let it waft over you and enjoy it. Yeah, right. That did a lot of good. They have their wish lists and expect delivery. And, whom do they expect to deliver? That would be me.

At the top of the list would be warm and sunny weather. Isn’t that why we picked Florida? Take nicknames with a gram of salt water. The sunshine state? I think not.

I thought it would be relatively easy to web up state rankings in rainfall. I thought wrong. There are multiple variables, such as disparity by region and square mileage. But, according to the table that came closest to simplifying the ranking, Florida places sixth among the fifty. Sunshine my foot. A pox on those spin doctors.

If the description isn’t real, that doesn’t mean the anticipation follows suit. And, somehow, some way, I’ll be painted with responsibility. So be it. I’m used to that. At least the forecast looks very good. I must be a genius.

Some participants have their hearts set on rubbing elbows with alligators. All want to bump up against manatees. In the past, I have posted some trips featuring eagles, wolves and assorted other fauna, only to have the wildlife no-show. Apparently, they don’t read the email. It doesn’t matter how many nests, dens or burrows are advertised or reported, the animals just don’t always feel compelled to cooperate. I took a group to a park in South Dakota that boasted 123 species of wildlife. We combed the acreage all day, encountering only two examples. Three, if you count the scraggly German Shepherd. As the trip leader, I was counting it.

The last time I led a trip to this particular area, we had manatees up the wazoo, but only one gator. Fortunately, the reptile made an indelible impression by choosing to join one of our paddlers in a swim. The conversion table shows that one gator in the water with you is worth five on the bank. Another relevant ratio is that for every foot closer to you the gator is, it grows one in length.

Another time, I led a trip in the Okefenokee Swamp where the group expectation was nothing but gators. For the first couple miles, the cupboard was bare. Maybe it was the sound of the grief I was getting from the group that scared them off. After that stretch, there was an 800-pounder about every ten feet for the next two days. I didn’t hear a peep out of anyone.

The weather gods appear to smile upon us, in regard to manatees. It’s been a cold winter and that drives the puppy-like behemoths up the streams to congregate at the warm springs. But, we’ll see.

Finally, the paddlers have heard about boisterous campground parties and nights out on the town from prior adventures. With this cast, delivering on that is the least of my worries. There’s a greater likelihood that they’ll be dancing around the campfire by sundown than that manatees will be brushing by us on a daily basis.

Okay, back to recounting granola bars.

Response to question on previous blog

That is the source and the commenter got the point. But, the lesson I learned was to extend the time allotted for assessment to avoid seeing an error in retrospect.

That is, a semester wasn’t adequate to gain an accurate picture of the student, especially since it coincided with her split and commencement of the divorce proceedings (although that would not affect the grade). Likewise, in the context of the seminar subject, one trip wouldn’t be a valid test. Or, in employment, one project.

What I learned was to observe over time before making the call. If the person participating over several trips continues to foment problems, the leader has more data to draw upon. But, that still isn’t the acid test.

Another perspective is to see if the issues are confined to that trip, or set of trips, or that particular subset of people. It may be an isolated difficulty and not representative. On the other hand, if the person has continuing issues over time and they also manifest themselves with multiple people or in varied venues, then the trip leader/employer/teacher can be certain what he/she is dealing with.

Everyone is dealing with a personal hell

I gave the seminar last night on leading wilderness paddling trips, which commenced with my three philosophies that are the underpinnings of everything else. One of them relates to the responsibility to individuals vs. the group.

This, like the other two, stems from managing employees. But, it contains an element that goes back centuries.

The gist of it is that the trip leader should strive to address the concerns, preferences, problems, etc. of the individuals. But, ultimately, the leader is the one responsible for the big picture. So, when it comes down to a conflict of interests, the group’s safety, convenience, etc. prevail. The individual may not understand that his/her issues should not unfairly be imposed upon all the others (and issues people frequently don’t get it), but the leader has to see that the group doesn’t suffer for it.

There is a codicil that was brought to me by an ancient philosopher. Remember, when you are dealing with people, that they are all dealing with their own personal hells.

This doesn’t really apply to the small segment of employees who constantly manufacture their own issues. But, you should consider it with most people.

That was underscored to me many years ago. I ran into a student I had taught in a weekend college. She now held a very good position and was doing quite well. Somewhat of a surprise to me since she had showed little in the class. As though reading my mind, she told me that she had been going through a rough divorce at the time and knew she hadn’t done her best work.

A good employer or trip leader should keep that in mind. Everyone hits a rough patch and it colors the behavior.

The best of times

Every spring our paddling club does a spring trip down south, reveling in the warmer climes on the tail end of a frigid winter. Just prior to the trip, I organize a meeting/party to go over the details, field questions and get the group chemistry going.

Last night was this year’s meeting. After we cleared up the business and popped the caps off a few beverages, the question was raised about high points of previous spring trips. Hard to answer, because there were so many good times. But, we gave it a whirl.

The first trip was to South Carolina. We did two days on the Edisto River and then moved over to Charleston Harbor. I had read numerous and contradictory trip reports about the paddling conditions there (the harbor), and decided to err on the side of caution. I advised the group to be prepared to be tested.

I think everyone had this in the backs of their minds during the first part of the trip and were getting keyed up as we approached the open water segment. So, when we put out onto the bay and it was relatively benign, there was somewhat of a let-down.

Then, a mammoth container ship steamed by, throwing a mountainous wake our way. It lifted our boats up high, as well as the spirits. We had a lot of fun surfing the wakes of the big ships and then beached on a small island for a group photo. That would later appear on the big electronic billboard on Times Square, which underscored the fun day.

The next trip was another two-parter, beginning with a few days in the Okefenokee Swamp (Georgia) and ending up in the ocean off Jekyll Island. The swamp is huge, but with restricted access. Only seven permits for interior locations are granted a day. The permit gets you a platform to camp on, since there is a distinct lack of firm ground. The platforms resemble a small planked deck, like you would see attached to a house.

We paddled to our platform and pitched our tents on it. Alligators circled, hungering for a dropped morsel of food, or maybe a camper. We paid them no mind and just sat around the deck and enjoyed the wilderness.

As darkness fell, the noises of the swamp creatures amped up. And, that far from civilization, it’s an inky darkness. Our group gradually edged toward the center of the platform, until we were sitting back-to-back in a tight circle. Being deep in the primordial swamp is quite an experience at night, albeit a little spooky.

When I thought no one could be any more tense, an unearthly, earsplitting shriek blared from the edge of the deck. That was immediately followed by a terrified group scream.

I jumped up, as it was up to the leader to do something. I grabbed what was handy, which happened to be a flashlight and one of my paddling shoes, and tiptoed toward the source of the noise. What I thought I would do with a floppy shoe is anyone’s guess, but it was all I had.

I flicked on the light. There, crouched in the reeds was one of our paddlers with a coyote call, laughing his butt off. It would be a while before we shared his amusement. But, in retrospect, it was hilarious.

The following year, we journeyed to the Gulf Coast of Florida. In Kings Bay, we paddled to an island, rolled off our kayaks and snorkeled with manatees. It was amazing, floating around in the clear water while dozens of these huge and gentle creatures cruised among us. Magical.

I got a break the following year, as someone else organized the trip to Jekyll Island and the Altamaha River. One day’s trip was to paddle from Jekyll to Cumberland Island and back. I don’t know if the leader had checked the tide charts or what, but we crossed in the maximum flow. Under those conditions, the massive movement of water is nozzled between the islands, creating a maelstrom, and we had quite a ride. A lot of dry mouths at the time, but quite an experience. Cumberland Island is protected wilderness, so that sweetened the pot.

Back to Florida the next year. In this case, the panhandle. We paddled a variety of locations within a half day drive of St. Joe Bay. The last day of the trip, we paddled one end of the bay that rarely exceeded ten feet in depth and was rich with wildlife. In the crystal clear waters, you could readily see coral, conch, anemones, rays, sharks, turtles and a vast array of colorful fish, up close and personal. Absolutely fantastic.

Last year, we returned to Georgia. Severe weather and other factors created a lot of challenges just to get there and launch, much less the arduous paddle out to an island and pitching camp in high winds. We collapsed in our tents that night, thoroughly exhausted from battling the elements.

The rising sun woke me up the next morning. Or, was it the splashing in the surf right outside my tent? I picked up my head and saw, in the gleaming morning sun, groups of dolphins frolicking in the shallows, seemingly within arm’s reach. It made the prior day’s labors more than worthwhile.

Other veterans of the trips chimed in with their favorites and the neophytes asked questions. This is another purpose of the meeting. I can take a measure of the group and figure out the strong points to leverage and the weak ones to adjust for. This encompasses comprehension, paddling skills, physical capabilities, attitude, health and a host of other things that will affect the success of the trip. You only need once for someone to have a stroke or go psycho on a trip before you learn to anticipate potential problems.

But, this looks like a very good and enthusiastic group, and I’m very happy with it. The meeting is part of the preparation makes for good trips and we’ve had some great ones. Word-of-mouth bears that out, generating a lot of interest in signing up for the spring event. Since the second one we’ve done, it’s been necessary to place a cap on the number of participants. When you have well over 25 people clamoring to burn a week of vacation leave and drive 1,700 miles, it’s going pretty darn good.

Song is Strong

Bart emailed me a question this morning. I met him at a seminar a couple days ago.

I dabble in video production and the seminar was about using video on the web. It was technical and mostly beyond me, but the price was right (free) and I thought I’d pick up some crumbs of wisdom. Largely, the seminar leader spoke several atmospheric layers above me and could’ve been talking about embedding files, Chinese calculus or the cellular structure in spirogyra, for all I knew.

At the conclusion, we all exchanged business cards and web sites. Bart had checked out mine and observed that all the video seemed to fall within some repeated themes except one, “Call Me Lightening.” “What’s up with that?”

It’s a compilation of shots of champion swimmers set to upbeat music. “On cold, dark mornings, I don’t always feel like crawling out of bed, going to the gym and swimming laps. I use that to get me going.”

“And that works?”

Music and odors are two of the strongest evokers of memories and emotions. I think I even recall the first time I realized this.

I was a sophomore dressing for a game in the locker room. Chickie, another neophyte benchwarmer, had the locker next to mine. Someone slapped us simultaneously on the backs of our heads. “We’re spinnin’ a platter on the PA system and you’re gonna sing. We’re all gonna sing,” rumbled Jimmy Walker, an upper classman who was a little smaller than a dumpster, but twice as hard. We nodded enthusiastically, although it didn’t strike m as such a hot idea.

Perhaps it was because a couple months before we had attended the first team meeting. The coach gave a pretty good talk and then left. Okay, meeting over. Not quite.

Jimmy and some of the other veterans backed the newcomers up against a wall and fixed us with a baleful glare. “We don’t lose.” I nodded agreement. Chickie didn’t. Jimmy repositioned himself directly in front of Chickie. “I said, we don’t f---in’ lose. You wanna remember that.” Jimmy emphasized every syllable with a finger stab to Chickie’s chest.

“Lose this,” replied Chickie, which was a fairly standard Philly response. Chickie was unable to practice for the next couple days.

Understandably, we joined in when the music (“Be True to Your School”) commenced. As we sang, everyone moved to a central point in the room. I was thinking it was a bit silly, but when we came to “Come Friday we’ll be jacked up on the football game and I’ll be ready to fight, we’re gonna smash ‘em now!,” and everyone amped up their volume and pumped their fists, I knew. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, we were ready to fight. No, to paraphrase Jimmy, we were f---in’ ready to fight.

That became a ritual for as long as I was at the school and I never failed to feel that adrenaline jolt. Made a believer out of me as far as the power of music.

I’m still a big believer. We were on a car trip and “Let’s spend the night together” came on. The hon started singing along softly and I joined in. When it came to that great part where the tempo slows and the volume drops, and then it abruptly kicks back into high gear (“You know I’m smiling baa-bee!”), we were looking at each other and practically yelling it. Now, we always do that when the song plays. “In the Still of the Night” is great for warm and romantic feelings, but this is flat out hammer time.

And so it is with the swimming video. When I need help getting fired up for a hard practice, that stokes me.

“Yeah, it works.”

“From the hit count, you must need it a lot.”

“My son uses it to pump up the team he coaches.” Or, maybe I do need it a lot.

Take me to your leader

“I hear you’re doing a seminar on how to lead seminars.” It was a former business associate.

“No, I’m doing two different seminars and you’re mixing the subjects together.”

“No matter. I’d like you to do one for my group on leadership.”

“I’m not sure I know enough.”

I heard a protracted exhale. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we serve on the same steering committee for a leadership program?”

“Ironic, isn’t it? Kind of devalues the whole thing.”

“I’m not saying you have to be the end-all expert. We floated some names out there and yours resonated. How about cutting me a break?”

“What’s the time frame?”

“Three hours.”

“Three hours? You have to be kidding. There isn’t that much to say.”

“Oh come on! There must be a thousand lists of leadership techniques and traits on the web. There are entire books. I’ve read some of them.”

“Fantastic. You give the seminar.”

I’ve been involved in leadership development, read the books and seen the lists. But, the more I’m around, the more I think the principal purpose of coming up with lists is to sell books. I can take one of those lists and show you a ton of successful leaders who don’t fit the mold. And, I can turn around and enumerate people who match up perfectly with the specs, but couldn’t pull six people together for a poker game if a life depended on it. I’m talking about numbers far beyond the “exception-to-the-rule” doctrine.

I’m no longer certain leadership is something that can be taught. Management, yes. Leadership? You can improve upon something that’s there, but out of whole cloth?

Bottom line is that I think leadership is just having vision, being able to communicate that and motivating people to follow it. That simple. What I call the Paul Newman school of leadership.

In the movie “Hombre,” Paul Newman plays an Apache thrown into a stage coach journey with some white people biased against Indians. The coach is robbed and the passengers are left in the desert to die. Newman is in his element and sets out for safety. The “soft” white people, who detest him, follow his lead.

At one point, a woman addresses this irony by asking, “Why do we keep trotting after you?”

“Because I can cut it, lady.”

It may just be that simple.

“Are you going to do this for us or not?”

“Are you sure the world needs more leaders?” There are enough leaders; just not in the positions we need them the most. And, from what I’ve experienced in store and customer service, what we really need is to train more people in how to follow leadership.

Reason enough

In a couple weeks, I’ll be leading a kayaking trip in Florida. Most people on the trip will start pulling their stuff together next weekend. Being the personality type I am means I was ready to roll two weeks ago.

Now, it’s just a question of watching the long-range weather forecast and adjusting the gear for temperature range. Logically, I could do that just once, close to the departure. But, it’s displacement activity, dealing with the anticipation, not unlike writing this.

As I was digging into the duffel bag last night for the umpteenth time, I wondered why we go to this trouble, with we being the over twenty participants. What do they get out of this that’s better than spending an effortless week with their feet up?

This winter makes one of the answers the most obvious. One of the things we hope for is a big improvement in weather. Why drive an entire day for a small temperature change? We want some contrast. The last time we did a trip to this area, we grouped up to caravan down there. It was about 18 degrees out with a fierce wind driving flurries to sting our faces. Perfect.

When we arrived at the warm beach, the vehicles emptied and people spontaneously threw off their coats, sprinted to the water’s edge and performed a joyous improvised “sun dance.” The locals exchanged knowing looks.

Of course, there’s more to it than thinning the blood or others wouldn’t be journeying to the mountains of Colorado and other colder places. It’s experiences you couldn’t enjoy with your nose pressed up against a television or computer screen. We’ll be plying crystal clear waters, snorkeling with manatees and colorful fish, camping in a jungle-like venue and having other adventures unavailable in our backyards.

People have different thresholds for what constitutes an “experience.” I receive postings on Facebook like “Having buckwheat pancakes for breakfast!” If flapjacks are enough of a highlight in your life that you feel compelled to broadcast your diet to the world, maybe you don’t need to pack up a week’s worth of gear and head south. On the other hand, maybe you do more than you know.

Then there’s the distance factor. Physical distance is also mental distance. I’m sure some of these people are feeling the economic pinch or have other problems that loom large for them. These issues tend to melt away with every mile driven. You step back and gain perspective.

And there’s also the group experience. While I relish my vacations with one or a few loved ones, there’s something about the bonding, validation and other group dynamics that make this type of trip very rewarding.

There are a lot of things that go into preparing for a trip like this with a large group and multiple activities and locations. But, the return has always far exceeded the investment. Reason enough.

Single Bullet Theory

A book I’m reading references the Single Bullet Theory. The Single Bullet Theory is that you can be pierced with one person’s bullet that'll touch your soul like no one else ever has, knowing that she/he was the one true connection in your life, the one that came closest to seeing your hidden secrets. The one that touched you the most, knowing that you can make love and fall in love again, but you'll know it'll never be as sweet, never be as beautiful, as that one who got under the wire.

I gave that some thought and it quickly had the opportunity to bob up again on my radar screen. We had dinner with my son and his future in-laws. He became engaged a couple weeks ago on Valentine Day. I eyed his fiancée’, wondering if she was his single bullet.

My gaze shifted to his mother, my ex. Had I thought that at the time?

Every pot has a lid, or so some say. But, is there only one lid? Are there different lids for various stages of your life?

I’m ambivalent on that. I tend to believe the latter. On the other hand, I know a woman who, to me, is like no other. That’s not to say that the relationship has always been smooth or intact. But, even during the lulls, I can’t recall thinking there was anyone else like her.

On the other hand, I probably thought that about my high school girlfriend, but that may be the product of youth. We went our separate ways after graduation and lost touch. Years later, I would find myself pondering her from time to time. She was very smart, beautiful and had personality to spare.

I’m a doer by nature and, after thirty some years of musing about it, decided to track her down. That was a letdown, but don’t jump to any conclusions. She had maintained her physical appearance, but had done almost nothing with her other gifts. Not the way I had pictured her and definitely not the bullet.

Almost seven billion people on this rock and only one soul mate out there for you? The odds don’t seem likely.

But, if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.