March 2025 – a little bit about a lot of things

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Have you ever been to a little kid’s birthday party at a bowling alley? The lanes are adorned with the insert of bumpers in the gutters. These barriers are incorporated to aid in keeping the players’ balls in line. Creating an actual boundary to guarantee that the game doesn’t break into another’s space. Wouldn’t it be grand if we could install giant, blow-up boundaries to protect ourselves from allowing our experiences to go off course?

History has a sneaky way of showing a pattern in need of a directional change. Completing Kayla’s birthday project reminded me of a similar project attempted many moons ago. Circa 2003, I discovered scrapbooking and the fact that I could print photos in my home office. After an inspirational moment shopping at the neighborhood craft store, walking out with not just one book, but the notion to complete four identical masterpieces. My subject matter was my grandmother Roberta. The queen to the kingdom, at least in the eyes of me, my brother Johnny and my cousins Kelly and Stacy. Visions of a poetic memento, complete with vintage photos, the plan was to complete as a Christmas surprise.

Guess what, I have yet to finish these little, gem filled keepsakes. Revisiting now and then over the years, efforts were attempted to complete, but with zero luck. As I wrote last time about my instant fear of completion, that feeling was grounded in this experience. Having the weight of all the people I dragged into Kayla’s surprise, gave witness to holding me accountable to getting the job done. Yet when I was left to my own self-governance, falling short was easy, project boxed up and stored away without anyone the wiser.

Inspired by my latest writing, the search was on to unearth this treasure from the past. There they were, four partly completed books (in various stages) tucked away with all the supplies in a clear container. Staying on course to my commitment to express gratitude, there is no denying my love of heritage, vintage keepsakes, and how I obtained the DNA that runs through my body. In a world that our roots struggle to get the opportunity to run deep in the soil we land upon, I am beyond blessed to say my family tree is firmly planted with generational ties that rival the forming of the local township. It is a special feeling to say, “My grandparents, parents, myself and all three of my children are Templeton High School graduates.” These is not a single thing that I would ever replace from the family my grandmother created.

The story is titled The Queen of Roblar and it is written in a simple four-line stanza, with each quatrain of the poem featured on a page. Sitting here, scanning my unfinished work, two thoughts run through my mind. One, more of this endeavor is finished than recalled. And the second is utter disappointment that 12 years later the task is not complete. In a period where accountability is a key component to success, be it performance reviews, schoolwork, or every customer survey that lands in our inbox daily, how do we evaluate ourselves?

Reading an article the other day that highlighted personal boundaries, a connection between governing oneself and setting up your own personal gutter “bumpers” for protection seem to make sense. Looking in the mirror and deciding what we will accept in ourselves, and others is not an easy task. And when that “bowling ball” crosses the lanes, how do we correct course?

The article noted two subjects I had never considered: time and intellectual boundaries. The concept of time fascinated me in ways that I could easily grasp and realize how much it defined my shortcomings. From how I have spent my moments over the years to allowing other’s demand of this limited good, examining the value of a healthy time boundaries seemed like a good place to start.

Teetering on placing too many tasks on my “plate” and allocating the importance of each item, the view began to become clearer on where the habit of boxing up valued ventures to return to later developed. You see, I spent a great deal of my life putting my professional life first (most of the time), ironically not because I was trying to climb some illusive achievement ladder. The habit was born from an inner need to do my very best at every duty embarked upon. Being an economist, the obvious lesson is that time is a limited resource. Yet I never treated it as a treasured commodity. Give me a good calendar and ability to plan and the belief was lets cram as much as possible into a single day. Check marking my way down the list. Was their joy from the accomplishments or was there pure exhaustion? The glory of the past 18 months of rediscovery is that when you have abundance of time, the pace teaches you the importance of how you spend every day.

Time for me today is about one thing in a moment, with three check marks on the “to dos” as a success. More is never better; pace is the constant. As I began to set boundaries unconsciously, accomplishments increased. No longer do I need to complete something all at once. If it takes a couple of day, or even weeks to have the plan come together, it is still a win. For once in my life, I recognize the value of every single minute, and I am starting to be stingy with how I spend this valuable asset and who gets the investment.

Intellectual boundaries have been a struggle I have battled internally for years. Not with regards to recognizing what are appropriate conversations, but in the sharing of my mind. Bordering on personal boundaries and the overly transparent philosophy I have adapted; I tend to give my knowledge freely. I watch others capitalize and develop successful businesses based on their skills. Yet here I am connecting people, helping them solve business issues, and sharing my thoughts and skills openly. Putting a value on what my intellectual knowledge is worth, is another huge quandary that I can’t even begin to tackle.

Has a solution been found? Not yet, but I can tell you that the first step is awareness. Allowing the little voice in your head the freedom to talk and keep the reminding alive. Being true to yourself is just as important as being honest with yourself. Neither is easy and both need to be practiced. Now that I have time that I can freely devote to my long-lost project, will I complete in the intention of what I imagined? The future holds that answer. The conscious act of self-protection is a new muscle I am learning to flex. Finding gratitude with the completion of even the smallest tasks adds value to my day and my brain power. Pretty soon I will be “bowling” bumper free.

A short insert of a few pages of The Queen of Roblar

Once upon a time
In a quiet country town
Lived a princess of a girl
With love of life profound

A farm was her castle
Amongst fields of hay
This land was her home
Working hard was part of the day

As time went by
The kingdom did grow
The princess blossomed too
Learning to bake and sew

Born the oldest
In a family of four
There were two princes
And one princess more

Reading and writing at
Oakdale school
The princess thought learning
Was so very cool

As the years went by
More lads in the land
All wanting to take
The princess by the hand

The princess found her prince
In a frog named Miller
She knew in her heart
That the king would kill her

The note on the wall
A love story it told
As they ran to Nevada
To say “to have and to hold”

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” – William Wordsworth

For the past six weeks, I have been keeping a secret. Better yet let’s call it a major surprise, that tied perfectly into my last blog post. The challenge was not to “spill the beans” while I wrote and fingers crossed the many I tied into the task, kept their lips sealed as time ticked closer to “D Day”. Or should we say “B Day”?

My daughter Kayla turned thirty last week. Early one January morning I got an idea. Those that have worked with me know that me walking in on a daily basis with the phrase, “I have an idea” is not earth shattering news. This one began with a simple thought and grew into mountain to climb with a tight deadline ticking down daily. The brainchild was a gift to my daughter that would showcase the first thirty years of her life. A creation of memories and messages from her first 10,950 days, featuring her family, friends and special loved ones from near and far.
My natural tendency is to have an idea, allowing zero time to percolate before putting the plan into action. My thoughts that early morning, while waiting to board a plane to Reno, moved like the speed of light. Before a second idea could enter my mind, the wheels were in motion as I sent out a group text to dozens of family and friends. My request while rehashing my vision, was simple please send me a handwritten note wishing Kayla a Happy Birthday. I was open to them also sharing special photos they may have of the celebration girl, but what I longed for was that piece of paper with pen marks that makes each of them special to her life.

As I woke up the next morning, instant panic hit me of the enormous task laying ahead. What was I thinking, thirty years of memorabilia to rediscover, organize and neatly sum up in a book? Over the past three decades we have moved from old fashion film, digital cameras and today’s photo capturing device of choice, our cell phone. Inputting the pictures alone would require scans, downloads, uploads and never ending edits. As I sat in my hotel room, I figured I needed a plan and fast. On my side were a few things, I have organized items for each child in a single clear container, Shutterfly had been my photo creation device of choice for at least two decades, therefore housed numerous uploaded photos and the simple fact that I opened this Pandora’s Box with a large number of my contacts, there was no turning back. Laptop in hand, I typed Shutterfly into the search bar, and the first step was taken in a very long journey.

Over the next four weeks there was the gentle balance between feelings of great accomplishment to overwhelming piles of photos, page counts and hunting down letters. The final statistics include one book, 78 pages, filled with 332 photos and 21 letters. I included her birth announcement, a few of her first birthday cards from special relatives no longer with us (complete with their signature), a poem written by her 5^th grade teacher, a newspaper article/photo and her ultrasound image.

I am grateful for the challenge and the reminder of the value of the written word. Large projects can be a doubled edge sword for me to complete. I get caught between constant inspiration to falling down a rabbit hole of chasing ideas, thus turning minutes into extended hours. Funny thing was that while I waited for the letters to come in, I would be setting up the page of the person writing to Kayla. And every single time, the photos I had inserted fell write into step with words in the letter. The words became the irreplaceable star in the production. And I began to notice this continued theme in recent days.

Assigning my students the chore of writing “thank you” notes to speakers, there was the bright light again taking center stage. Their kind words reflected the appreciation of the time the guest spent sharing their story while inspiring ideas of future career possibilities. And just this week while applying to teach yet another class, I had the opportunity to read letters of recommendation for yours truly. The written word is a wonderful reminder of where we thrive, find enjoyment and touch others. Maybe we do need to read how others feel about us, now and then, as a gentle reminder of our importance in this solar system.

In a world where we hear the words AI daily or communicate through emojis and acronyms, let me just express one more time how important connecting to each other makes life worth living. AI cannot compose a handwritten note that expresses your emotions, experiences and genuine caring of another person. Another lesson I embraced during these exercises, the net you cast over the amount of people you touch is much larger and stronger than you may ever realize. From hearing a story from a special aunt, to thanking a guest speaker or even having a former student recount the impact you had on their career path, there are countless individuals that you have touched over the course of your years.

So here is my challenge to all that may read this message. Choose three people that have touched your life; 1) that is near to you on a day-to-day basis, 2) someone who you truly value but don’t connect with near enough and 3) someone that impacts/ impacted your life. Next write them a note from your heart, length isn’t important, it’s the thought that counts. Of course, I would prefer you to use paper and pen but will settle with any formal form of communication. I freely admit, we aren’t all great writers like Wordsworth, but if I can squeeze 21 notes out of the cast of characters for Kayla’s gift, you all can take the time to connect with three humans over the next few weeks.

We have heard the question, what is your love language? I am beginning to believe that mine may be the written word. After my last blog a couple of my friends and I even joked about forming a note writing club, similar to a book club. Where we could meet once a month, drink wine and write to others. Honestly the more I think of the concept, the greater the possibility becomes reality. Even across distances this feat could be achieved. Holding each other accountable to developing our new correspondence habit.

In the words of Emily Post, “Never think because you cannot write a letter easily, that it is better not to write at all. The most awkward note imaginable is better than none.” Take my challenge, share your gratitude and compose away. Maybe, just maybe, we are one card away from starting a writing revolution?

Month: March 2025

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