If I could

If we could replace one phrase in the English language, it would make a world of difference. Ditch “If I could” and insert “I can.” There, we even saved a word.

I’ve felt this way for some time, but was nudged a few weeks ago at a party. He had been looking at some of my videos on the web and noted my travels. Given that, he asked me, “If you could live anywhere you wanted, where would it be?”

If? I can live anywhere I want. You can live anywhere you want. The only thing that’s stopping us is us.

If the hurdle is that we have family, jobs, etc. here that are in the way, that’s surmountable. The fact that we don’t move is probably because we weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. That’s a choice, not a can’t.

Yes, there are some practical considerations. I can’t see them rolling out the red carpet for me Malibu or West Palm Beach. Nor am I willing to generate and sacrifice those dollars to maintain a lifestyle that doesn’t appeal to me. But, that’s also a choice.

Last week, someone commented she couldn’t afford to pursue a vocation she loved. What’s stopping you or anyone else? Is there a law that you can’t?

If it’s a matter of training and certification, you can figure out a way. I know two people who decided to become doctors well after they passed their fortieth years. I taught a middle aged woman in night school. She decided to upgrade her high school diploma to a law degree and is now a partner in a major firm. And, a gray hair who was keystroking records for me a few years ago is now a well-paid nurse. The difference between them and their brooding counterparts is that they decided to figure out a way instead of just muttering, “If I could.”

Or, maybe the desired job doesn’t pay enough to support your current lifestyle. Start packing a lunch or develop an ancillary source of income. I have a relative who loves to coach swimming, but it doesn’t pay squat. So, he works two other gigs so he can do what makes him whole and still live the way he wants. You can make it work with the right attitude.
Going back to the original question, I’m about to visit some friends who asked themselves that very thing. They made a list, boiled it down to a half dozen locations and went to visit them for assessment. The primary requisite, according to them, was that they be near an airport with decent connections. Their business is portable but requires some air travel. That successful business is a result of them asking themselves if they’d rather punch a clock at one company and work for a wage, or sell their talent at a premium price to a number of companies.

I was with them up to there. They lost me with their list that included South Padre Island (a spring break town near the border?), Las Vegas (no thanks) and Atlanta (not a fan of traffic). Their choice? St. Petersburg, Florida. Wouldn’t be high on my list if I wanted to move, but the temperature is dropping here and I’ll be happy to go visit them. Besides, it’s always stimulating to be around people who go for it.


What it boils down to is that there are two kinds of people when it comes to extending the grasp. There are those who expend their energies dwelling upon fifty reasons why it can’t be done and those who generate fifty ways how it could be done. The former group has a shot at living their dreams.

You can't make this stuff up

The economy is in a death spiral. Crime is on the rise. And infrastructure is falling apart. So, how is our government prioritizing its time?

If you’re a member of the Immigration, Citizenship, Refugees, Border Security and International law Subcommittee of Congress, you spent the day listening to Stephen Colbert testify about farm work, based on spending almost an entire day doing it. Yes, that’s the guy from Comedy Central.

Among the insights he shared was that most soil is at ground level, so the work is very, very hard. He urged Americans to stop eating fruit and vegetables. And, he went on and on at the same intellectual level.

Was there not a single person on Capitol Hill who perceived this as a farce and waste of time? House Judiciary Committee Chairman John Conyers (D-MI) did ask Colbert to leave. Ah, an island of sanity in Washington.

But, Colbert pointed out that he had been invited to testify by Subcommittee Chairperson Zoe Lofgren (D-CA). Oh, okay then. Proceed. Say what? Anyone satisfied by that justification shouldn’t be chairing a block party committee much less one of the congressional variety.

Forget eschewing the fruits and vegetables. Do away with the nuts in Congress. You just can’t make up stuff like this.

Three professions requiring thick skin

I received a lengthy forwarded email from an acquaintance who is active in a club. He received it from another member who took a skewed perspective on something he had posted on their web board and essentially questioned his intellect, legitimacy and political leanings, with none of that having anything to do with anything.

This is the third time he’s come to me with a foaming-at-the-mouth rant directed at him. I think he’s looking for assurances that he’s in the right or at least that he isn’t alone in hearing from the contingent on the edge. I’ve done that for him before and will not this time.

Obviously, it hasn’t solved his problem and he has to address the realities. The head person will always draw tirades. Authority piques a segment of the mentally defective and, if the tirades matter at all to him, he may be in the wrong position. Also, he’s not even close to the top of the pecking order in that regard.

Politicians would rank first place in my lineup. They are pretty much fair game for any public vilification fabricated by their opponents, media or any ill-informed idiot who can keystroke a blog (self excepted, of course). It’s not for the weak of knees. And, I haven’t met that many who cared how accurately they were portrayed as much as the number of times their names were exposed. Repetition means name recognition which means votes, especially at the level where no one knows squat about the issues. How many times have you been in an argument over which county judge to elect? And, isn’t it a shame that all those people who really know how to tackle the knotty issues of running a country are too busy flipping burgers to do it?

Next up, coaches. If you contemplate coaching Notre Dame football, the New York Yankees, or the Boston Celtics, get out the micrometer and measure the thickness of your hide. If you’re not winning, and winning big, you will be skewered publically and directly. And, even if you are winning. No matter how well your team does and how many years you’ve been plying your trade, there are still thousands of wide butts out there affixed to Barcaloungers who know better than you do. Not having lives of their own, they're relying on you to provide some kind of ethereal self esteem by winning. The fact that it actually reflects not a whit on them doesn't dawn on them.

I don’t think you’ve guessed the third category because few give it much thought. But, if you publish a periodical, or even just write for one, you’ll get a daily dose from the wild-eyed. First of all, people don’t view the media as a business as much as something like a public utility. They feel like the pocket change they plunk down for the daily edition buys them a say in the content.

Secondly, nothing is as sensitive as the mention of someone’s name, except maybe that of their competitor or opponent. Or, an issue that directly affects a particular reader. It doesn’t matter what approach you take because it will irk someone and the phone’s going to start ringing as soon as the edition hits the streets. If you look outside for affirmation, this isn’t the field for you.

I didn’t tell him he was right or not the only recipient of crank mail because that wouldn’t solve his problem. Instead, I referred him to Harry Truman. “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

Old friends or inanimate objects?

I have dilapidated pair of hiking shoes. They’ve carried me across islands in the Atlantic, Pacific, Gulf of Mexico, Sea of Cortez and Great lakes, not to mention many places on the continent.

Along the way, they’ve developed worn spots, nicks and leaks. You can see those as flaws or as souvenirs of great times. When my feet get wet or sore, it’s the former.

I’ve been thinking of replacing them for some time. The other day, I was in a store and saw a great pair of shoes on clearance sale and bought them. And yet, I can’t seem to throw away their predecessors.

For years, I’ve had a very good sea kayak. She does a lot of things well, but few things great. Above all, she is a beautiful craft. She has carried me many places and we’ve shared some spectacular adventures.

As my skills grew, I acquired a very fast boat and a very maneuverable one. I find myself paddling those two almost all the time. Lately, I’ve been getting inquiries from people interested in buying the older boat. I don’t use it much, it’s taking up space, and cash is always good to have, but…

I took paddling lessons for the first time one cold spring back in ’83. Among the requirements were a synthetic underlayer of clothing, capable of wicking away moisture and providing some insulation even while wet. Helly Hansen was about the only maker of polypro garments at the time and I bought a long sleeve top of Lifa material.

The technology was fairly new and it pilled badly. It also accumulated static electricity like a sponge so every bit of fuzz, hair and dust within a mile stuck to it tenaciously. Still, it was my only piece of such gear and got used continuously over the years, developing an assortment of holes and seam splits.

Later, I would replace it with better stuff, but couldn’t bring myself to relegate it to the rag bag. How much allegiance do I owe to underwear?

Old friends or inanimate objects? Or, maybe the question is, sentimentalist or hoarder?

The Hunt for Red Tag October

Last week, I was assigned my hit list. A friend of mine is aware I’ve honed my internet bargain finding skills and enjoy the hunt. It has the adventure and challenge of a safari. “Mjumba, quick! Hand me my platinum card.”

With the first signs of a season change, she made up an outdoor apparel shopping list and gave it to me. I’ve tried to simply impart the principles so she can seek for herself, but that has no appeal to her. She says she knows I enjoy it, so I’m welcome to do it for her. Right.

One of the underpinnings of the strategy is to be flexible about color, size, etc. I can go up a size and either use it for layering or just not care if it’s a little baggy. Not so with her. She wants what she wants and it had better complement her eyes and fit her form perfectly.

What I’m looking for is discontinued products or versions where there have been subtle changes from year to year, making the previous ones obsolete. The obvious sources are the large scale liquidators or the manufacturers. But, they usually have sizes at the extremes or colors that totally bombed.

I start there anyway. It may work in her favor since she runs to the petite sizes. No luck.

Item number one will be a test. It’s one of those items that’s almost achieved cult status and the maker and retailers charge accordingly. In this case, it’s a prestige marque and I agree with her that, at $150, it’s overpriced. I’ve spent some time in factories of the Pacific Rim and have seen too many assembly lines with price brands being produced along side of the cachet names. For the most part, they buy their components from the same suppliers and have them assembled the same places.

But, pricing is based on demand, not cost. Demand is high for this item and it’s unlikely to land with liquidators, at least not in any volume. And, the big retailers, who pop up in your search engines, aren’t going to be discounting it.

The strategy here is to unearth the smaller merchants who were force-fed large orders and need to turn the leftovers into operating capital. I’ve spent some time compiling a list of them and find what I’m looking for discounted to under a hundred. Score one for the home team.

I need the victory because the second target will be even harder. It’s private-branded by a catalog retailer and will not be showing up on the pages of many, if any, retail sites, except theirs. So, it’s off to the auction sites.

The initial search surfaces the anticipated. That is, the product is available, but at the full price of $250. It is another hot item and no one is budging because they’re getting the price. The price is ludicrous. There are less expensive competitive alternatives, but they haven’t managed to differentiate themselves like this. But, she wants what she wants.

I do the auction search again, this time with spelling variations. Some sellers misspell and the products don’t come up on searches, reducing the competition. This effort locates a candidate with a starting price of $5. I put it on my watch list. It’s listed as used, but the seller explains that’s only because it lacks tags. I’ll roll the dice on that one. It’s last year’s model, but the difference is only in the design of the pockets.

At a couple minutes before the end of the auction, there is only one bid. I wait for the seconds to tick down and submit my bid. I am surprised to snag it for $16.02. Luck smiles upon her.

I wonder if she’s needling me on the last one. It’s one of my Moby Dicks. We had seen the mens version in a shop a couple years ago and I’ve been playing Ahab since it was discontinued, without any success. I ask her about it and she says it piqued her interest when we had seen it and I extolled its virtues.

Since I’ve been hunting it for some time, I already have a good idea about the kill zone and revisit the sites that were barren for me. Sure enough, there’s her size and color at half price.

But, there’s also a reward in it for my good deed. They also have mine.

Good things come to those who wait. And, those who don’t give up.

With all due respect to Epicurus

I blogged earlier that this summer was shaping up to be everything a summer should be, hot. It fulfilled its promise and has been great.

Now, the days are noticeably shortening and there have been a few cool mornings. That’s okay. I don’t think I’d enjoy the summer as much without the colder seasons, and they have some things to offer as well. Likewise, the colder weather makes southern getaways that much better. Having grown up in the northern climes, warm weather was always something special.

It sounds a bit like Epicurus’ contention that pleasure is the absence of the unpleasant. But, I wouldn’t go that far. I can enjoy some things without actually feeling pain from others, thank you.

In the same vein, I just received an email from a friend away on a kayak trip. Having a blast, wish you were here and why don’t you do more of these weekend trips with us? One reason is that Saturday nights have always been special to me.

Like virtually all adolescents, I’d have school all week. After school, there would be team or band practices and/or work. Then, I’d work all day Saturday, mostly at an auto shop, installing tires, batteries, shocks, seat covers and other dirty work. I remember wresting with this stuff one long day when “Five O’Clock World” (The Vogues) came on the tinny radio in the back of the shop. It totally resonated with me. After a long week and Saturday’s labor, I couldn’t wait to zip home, scrub off the grease and go out on a date. That was the reward at the end of the maze.

It must’ve imprinted because later, even when I was married, Saturday nights were reserved for reveling. I would always have something planned. Still true, today.

Do Sunday through Friday have to be miserable to enjoy Saturday nights? No, you just have to treasure them.

We touch people's lives

Before I went “entreo” (became a serial entrepreneur), I had a job with a how-to publisher that I enjoyed immensely. It was a family-owned enterprise and the owner worked our butts off. Actually, I thrive in that kind of atmosphere, which added to the pleasure.

Late nights were common. So was the ritual of extracting a bottle from a desk and toasting the putting to bed of a magazine issue or book in the wee hours. During one of these celebrations, the question was posed about what we found so appealing about our arduous work. John raised his tumbler to the light, inspecting the smoky amber of the single malt scotch. “We touch people’s lives.”

That hit the nail on the head for me and I would think of it often down the road. I retired eight years ago after a particularly successful venture. That lasted about two weeks before I was hankering to get back into the ring. Since I was free to select about anything I wanted without caveats, I applied the touching people’s lives principle and went into social services.

What brings this to mind is another project I undertook. About the same time I exited retirement, I started a local paddling club. A week ago, we topped 1,800 members. As far as we can ascertain, we’re the largest of the kind in the world and more than double second place. I received a lot of congratulatory emails from members and peers in the field.

But, as gratifying as that is, two stuck me with greater significance. Essentially, what they both said was that the club helped them find their voice (paddling) and provided a supportive”family.”

I know both of the people and their histories, which were troubled. One was struggling to find equilibrium while the other was completely adrift when they encountered the group. We gave them something to latch onto and climb out of their holes.

While I’m often thanked for providing adventures and experiences people wouldn’t have otherwise enjoyed, these two had the greatest impact. We touch people’s lives.

Intense

Another meeting I would’ve liked to have been part of. I made reservations at a state park for a group campout. I usually avoid state parks for this because their policies and procedures tend to be user-unfriendly. But, at this location, there was little choice.

It’s been four years since I’ve made reservations with this particular state and I noticed that they had changed some policies. What was merely inconvenient was now onerous. Good to see progress.

I would’ve liked to have been in that meeting. “Let’s put a cap of eight on occupancy for each site. Either eight adults or four adults and four children.”

“Great thinking, Gillespie. Make them plan their families according to our rules. Let’s make it more difficult. If it’s all adults, they can have but one tent. If it’s a mix, they can add a children’s tent, which must be occupied by the children and only children. That way, it’s assured that the children are without adult supervision and are free to strangle each other or sneak out and fall into the lake. At the very least they can be terrified by night noises without an adult next to them in the tent.”

“But you’re allowing a second tent on the site, even if it’s only a child configuration. Two tents runs contrary to the spirit of the outdoors and is lot more offensive than the 38’ Southwinds we rent to, bristling awnings, audio systems and Japanese lanterns.”

“That’s what gives it the touch of absurdity we strive for. We’ll make them book online and not give them a phone number for the confusing stuff we build in. Multiple bookers are the best customers, so we’ll be hard on them and force filling out an entire separate reservation for each site.”

“That’s great. And since they’re doing all the work that way, we’ll hit them with a reservation fee for each site equivalent to more than half the camping fee.”

“I like the way you think! But, they may look for hidden fees. So, in the FAQ section, pose the question and say there are none be on guard for that. Also, we can say that we accept AAA and senior citizen discounts, but program the reservation system not to apply them.”

“Nice touch. I think we’ve earned the rest of the day off.

Okay, I’m having a little fun with them and not being entirely fair. Not being at the meeting, I’m sure I missed something behind the logic. The reservation people probably wouldn’t have firsthand knowledge, so it wouldn’t be just to put them on the spot. I called park administration.

My question: what is a child’s tent? “That would be a dome tent.”

“Any dome tent?”

“That’s right. That’s a child tent.”

“What makes it a child tent?”

“It just is.” Oh, I was afraid there wasn’t a reason. Probably part of the same meeting. It isn’t as if camping isn’t integral to their business. When someone threw out this definition, someone else in the room didn’t choke on their coffee?

I can buy a 17’ x 10’ dome tent. Or, child tent, if you will. How is that too intrusive if I put an adult in it, but not if I cram it with children? I guess you had to be at a meeting.

Sorry I missed it.