Everything Has Its Place

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

“What are you looking for?” Our family has been asking each other that question repeatedly during the past few weeks. Everyone means well when they ask it but truthfully the question drives me nuts. You see, we initiated a kitchen remodeling project a few weeks back. It involved gutting pretty much everything but the basics. So before the work commenced our family took everything out of the cabinets – pots, pans, plates, silverware, plus all the cereal, pasta, rice, etc. and packed away what we could do without for a while and placed the rest in a series of large plastic storage bins that we access multiple times daily.

We tried to pack the plastic crates logically – all the spices together, all the cleaning supplies together; that sort of thing. But there were some misses along the way, most of them likely my doing. So, at some point on any given day I’ll be leaning over a large plastic crate, looking for raisins but finding coffee, or wanting coffee but finding rice cakes. And whoever is standing closest to me will inevitably ask “What are you looking for?” It’s almost like I don’t want to answer because to me it’s giving in and giving up. I don’t get the closure of finding something on my own and I’m left with this disruptive, incomplete feeling.

But something pretty awesome happened yesterday; the workers installed the cabinets. Now, don’t get me wrong; we still have quite a ways to go until the kitchen is complete. But having those cabinets in place served two purposes. It enabled me to clearly visualize how the completed kitchen would accurately look. And, from a practical matter, we could start putting stuff away.

So this morning, I enjoyed my cereal in a way I hadn’t during these past few weeks. Because I knew where it was located. And, even though the boxes had only been in that place for less then 12 hours, it seemed as though that’s where they belonged.

The new cabinets got me thinking about compartmentalization. Because emotions, like things, have their place. I of course can’t speak for you but lately my emotions have been a bit like those large plastic crates where they were mixed together but I’m not sure the combinations made sense. Maybe anger was mixed with relief. Or anxiety with fatalism. I could mix and match them all I wanted. But nothing need to make sense. Yet when I started isolating them, finding a place for anger right next to disappointment, it seemed a bit more logical. Then I could keep happiness and gratitude on a shelf and keep a big one open for perspective. Sure, as I’m writing this it does admittedly seem a bit corny. But I swear it works.

I also understand that once the kitchen remodeling is complete, the way our family stores our items will change over time. Much will depend on how our family’s needs change; the seasons; a whole host of reasons. So we’ll have to recognize that yes, everything has its place but these places can change. And you can say the same thing about compartmentalizing.

Photo: Max Burkhalter (Editorial note: Not our kitchen)

Turn and Face the Strange

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I’m a bit nervous as I write this post because I have a big day tomorrow. A dentist appointment. Which requires me actually getting in the car, leaving the house and heading to a place that’s not the grocery store or Target. And I have to admit; it seems a bit strange.

Like many of you reading this post, I’ve been working from home coming up on a year. Prior to that I’d been going to an office of one form or another, for 26 years. Desk. Office supplies. Conference rooms and colleagues. The works.

It admittedly took me a while to find my groove working from home. I’m an extrovert in the traditional sense of the word; I truly get energy from being around people and I missed those in-person interactions; still do. But like many of you I learned to adjust and be more deliberate about staying connected with people. Now, I schedule calls with people all throughout my sphere on a regular basis. In fact, I’m probably more connected to them now than prior to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Then there’s the matter of my wardrobe. Each day I wear jeans, t-shirt and a black Vans hoodie. Our 13-year-old daughter, Sasha, never one to mince words, tells me the hoodie makes me look like the “don’t be him” schoolkid in anti-drug PSAs. And truly, the put-down is so creative and unique that it doesn’t bother me.

But tomorrow I am going to wear a sweater. I have a stack of them that I used to wear back when I went into an office. Black, maroon, grey, and other earth tones that I typically wear. I believe they’re nice and should get some use. But they’ve been sitting collecting dust in our closet for almost a year.

I don’t want to put too much stock in tomorrow morning; it’s a dentist appointment, after all. But it’s a reminder that now matter how entrenched we feel, things are always temporary. Sometimes they get better; other times they get worse. But they always change; you can count on it. And it’s comforting to have a sweater to put on as you, to quote a lyric from the late, great, David Bowie, “Turn and face the strange.”

Image credit: Old Navy

Wait for It

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

The Twin Cities, where our family lives, is notoriously tough on newcomers and my wife Wendy and I discovered that on our own when we moved here 24 years ago. I vividly recall the winter of 1997 as being particularly brutal. True, Wendy and I had each other but spent quite a bit of time on our own as we found it difficult to break through, meet people and make friends; even more true then without social media as an outlet.

Around this time I would drive to work and for some reason the 1994 song “Lightning Crashes” by the band Live was on the radio. The song was dark, gloomy and I recall hearing that it had to with death. I’d immediately change the station when I heard “Lightning Crashes.” But then, sure enough, the song would be on another station. Or I’d hear it on the way home from work. The song seemed to follow me wherever I went.

Please forgive the overused expression but gradually, Wendy and I built a life in the Twin Cities. First, a car of our onw. Then, friends. Careers, a dog and a home followed. Then kids of our own. And even though I can’t sugarcoat the brutal weather, I truly, deeply enjoy living in the Twin Cities. It’s home.

I hadn’t thought of “Lightning Crashes” in years but last night, there it was on the radio. Our daughter Sasha and I were on our way to pick up Chipotle. It was the end of a long week and both of us were starving. So maybe it was the hunger influencing me but somehow “Lightning Crashes” sounded entirely different to me. Triumphant, determined. The feeling of rounding a corner and not looking back.

Now, Sasha and I have a game, a shtick if you will, when it’s just the two of us in the car. She’ll change the radio station almost as soon as I start the engine and then never settle on one song throughout the ride, no matter how long or short. But for some reason she kept “Lightning Crashes” on. I briefly told Sasha about my history with the song and she actually said she’d heard it herself many times. Then we both were quiet and continued rocking out until we arrived at Chipotle.

When writing this post I did a quick Google search for “Lightning Crashes” and learned that Live lead singer Ed Kowalczyk had dedicated the song to a high school friend who had been killed by a drunk driver. New York magazine described the band as “deeply mystical” and claimed that the song was, “The story of a…connection between an old lady dying and a new mother at the moment of giving birth.”

I choose to view “Lightning Crashes” a different way. A reminder that contentment has a way of catching up to us. We just need to wait for it.

Image credit: The Vane

Onto This

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

This morning I feel like I did back in elementary school on the first day. New backpack, notebook, and pens and pencils. A fresh start. This sense that things are definitely going to be different. But possessing the excitement mixed with uncertainty because I’m not quite sure of how.

I’m referring of course to the inauguration of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris in a few hours from the time I’m writing this post. For the past four years many of us have believed we’re better than this. Not we get to see what “this” looks like.

Forgive the overused analogy but I truly believe that Joe Biden is the man – more appropriately the person, for this particular moment in time. Biden’s history of loss and redemption – personal and political, is well-documented. I’ve heard someone close to Biden describe him as both the luckiest and the unluckiest person he’d ever met.

Of course, throughout the Obama administration, we became familiar with another Joe Biden.  The toothy, megawatt grin.  The seemingly never-ending gaffes. The what-were-you-thinking? massages. But somehow, throughout it all, I believe we collectively sensed a realness to Joe Biden and were willing to give him a pass in a way we might not for other politicians.

I recall having dinner several years ago with a professional associate.  We were talking politics, not from an ideological standpoint, mind you, but focusing on its gamesmanship. My dinner companion made a somewhat jaded, but insightful point. He referred to politicians, regardless of party, as freaks. Sensing my surprised reaction, he made his case: Here you had a group of largely shallow, insecure and self-centered people who are willing to go out and publicly humiliate themselves and their families, repeatedly, all because of some twisted desire to be liked. If you follow current events, and I know many of you do, I don’t believe that assessment is too far off the mark. But I don’t believe it accurately describes Joe Biden.

Unlike other politicians of varied political stripes who appear pre-packaged, Joe Biden is definitely a warts-and-all kind of guy. While Biden will occasionally trip over his own tongue, he doesn’t use it to lash out at others.  Rather, he owns up to his mistakes and moves forward. And while, as I noted, tragedy is certainly part of his biographical narrative, I don’t believe Biden ever needlessly exploits it. Rather, his background fuels his empathy, which right now is greatly needed but has been in severely short supply during the past four years.

I want Joe Biden to succeed. And I obviously want all of us to collectively succeed. Fortunately I believe we elected a person who finally recognizes those two goals are one and the same.

| IMAGE CREDIT: CHIP SOMODEVILLA/GETTY IMAGES)

The Other Shoe

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I filled up my car’s gas tank earlier this morning. The meter showed I was only two-thirds empty but that was too close for comfort. Before March 2020, when we began feeling the impact of COVID-19 in the United States, I would wait until the tank was pretty much empty until I stopped at a gas station. But now my mindset is quite different. I have this sense of some impending shortage or crisis that would necessitate me needing a full tank of gas. Of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Things were supposed to be different in 2021 but the first couple of weeks of January have been pretty grim. Our nation’s and state capitols, including St. Paul, right across the Mississippi River from me in Minneapolis, are pretty much under lock and key, in advance of Wednesday’s Presidential inauguration. And there’s a great deal of collective anxiety about the next wave of COVID-19 and availability of vaccines.

On a more micro level, it’s grey and dreary in Minneapolis. Our family is feeling a bit uprooted, having just launched a kitchen remodeling project. But my surroundings, as well as the project, have provided me with perspective and hope for what might be ahead.

Yesterday evening our family went to my father-in-law’s condo to check on things while he is out of town. We brought our dog Astro with us and spent a few hours there, making dinner in the condo’s kitchen. At one point during the afternoon our son Ethan and I took Astro for a walk around the neighborhood. Ethan knew that my wife Wendy and I had actually lived in this particular condo more than 20 years ago, before my in-laws moved in. Ethan, not surprisingly, wanted to know what it was like to live in the condo, be part the neighborhood where the two of us were walking.

The thing is, the more I tried to recall this time in my life, the more hazy it seemed. Fortunately, nothing particularly bad or traumatic happened during this timeframe, but not all it it was great, either. It was just Wendy and me, building our life together, working, spending time with friends, having ups and downs. Just like everyone else. But so much time had passed in the meantime. I found myself laser focused on the present. And perfectly willing to let the past stay the past. It made me realize that cliched expression “this too will pass” is entirely true.

After walking Astro our family had dinner, cleaned up and drove home. Right when we walked into our house I swear it looked different. Not good different. Not bad different. Just different. It took a change in scenery and a look back at the past to see the present in a different light.

Whether it happens this week, or this month, or next, or at some unforeseen point in the future, the other shoe will drop. And we just need to pick it up or leave it where it is, depending on how we’re feeling, and keep walking forward. Like we always seem to do.

Reacting to Moments

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of a blogger

I didn’t vote for President George W. Bush back in 2000 and was disappointed that then Vice President Al Gore lost the election after a protracted recount. But on September 14, 2001, when President Bush gave his “bullhorn address” while visiting Ground Zero where the World Trade Center days earlier had stood, I felt something. Without ever meeting the man, I believe President Bush was being authentic – raw, emotional; maybe even a bit cocky. And in that moment I stopped thinking about Florida and hanging chads. I knew that President Bush was our President and had our best interests at heart.

Now, I want to be clear. This post is not intended to lionize President Bush or delve into his decisions as President. But many of the decisions he faced; many of the decisions all of us face, for that matter, involve reacting to moments. And often reflect either our best of worst selves.

You probably saw this coming but the notion of reacting to moments is on my brain as the Presidency of Donald Trump finally winds down. And I truly believe the events last Wednesday at the U.S. Capitol – an angry insurrection by our own citizens based on lies President Trump spread about a free and fair election he lost, will be a moment that largely defines his Presidency. But it’s not the only one. The protests in Charlottesville. The shooting in El Paso. The press conference in Helsinki. These are just three that popped into my head as I’m writing this post but I’m sure I can think of others. Moments where President Trump chose self-interest, narcissism and cynical calculation over the good of the American people, let alone basic empathy and human decency.

Let’s face it; people have short memories. I really hope I’m right but my sense is that when Joe Biden takes office on Wednesday, January 20, President Trump will start fading. Oh, he’ll continue to make himself known, all right. It’s just that even among his most ardent supporters, I imagine people will start feeling like his presidency happened ages ago. They won’t remember the rallies, press conferences or thousands of Tweets. All they’ll remember are the moments, including the ones I noted earlier.

So I suppose a silver lining of the Trump presidency, if you can call it that, is I’m more in tune with the moments in my own life – those that have occurred, and that haven’t. If I’m reacting in ways that are true to myself and those important to me. Because in the end I believe it’s these reactions that largely define all of us.

President George W. Bush standing next to retired firefighter Bob Beckwith Image credit: PAUL RICHARDS/AFP/Getty Images)

Out of the Frying Pan Into the Fire

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I tried to savior it; I really did. During the Holidays I was fortunate enough to take PTO starting right before Christmas and going through last Monday. Our family typically would do a “staycation” during this timeframe but of course, in the age of COVID-19, the term took on a new meaning. I truly enjoyed the time our family spent together during the Holidays and, despite the fact that we didn’t do much of anything, it truly flew by.

Each night during my Holiday break, as I’d watch television with my wife or if our whole family was watching something together, or having a meal, or taking a walk, I’d try to hold onto that moment, remember what it was like to feel relaxed, at peace. Because I knew the feeling wouldn’t last. And sure enough it didn’t.

By mid-morning last Monday, it almost felt as though the Holidays never happened. Projects. Deadlines. Teams calls. My routine had pulled me back in and I followed willingly.

Then came Wednesday afternoon and the events at the U.S. Capitol. Interestingly, I felt very much as I did back in mid-March when the United States started being significantly impacted by COVID-19. Like I was certainly witnessing history, but not the kind I wanted to. Insurrections, I ignorantly assumed, were akin to pandemics – events that occurred ages ago for those unfortunate enough to experience them and relegated to color reproductions in history books. The kind of events that happened to other people, but not us.

Then, this past Monday we initiated a long-planned kitchen remodeling project. So we’ve been eating off paper plates, hunting around for items we packed in plastic containers, doing our best to stay patient while out of each other’s way. While being mindful that we have several weeks more of this.

And speaking of kitchens, I keep thinking back to a cast-iron skillet we have. Our family purchased it on New Year’s Day 2020 at a Twin Cities mall. We’d discussed getting one for years but hadn’t gotten around to it. Then our son embraced cooking and advocated for its purchase.

I enjoy the skillet quite a bit and use it to make a particularly good pork chop recipe. Yet, superstitious as I am, can’t help wondering what I inadvertently might have set in motion with its purchase. Because the way I see it, the initial days of 2021 have felt very much like going out of the frying pan into the proverbial fire.

Image credit: Home Depot

The Work of Professionals

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

Our daughter Sasha, 13, like we all did when we were her age, is constantly considering what she wants to be when she “grows up.” Her latest ambition, which she’s had for several months, is to be a dermatologist. And the two of us have had some good discussions of late about realistically what it would take if Sasha pursued that path – loading up on science classes, student loans, residency programs – the whole works.

In the midst of one recent such discussion, Sasha, asked me, not surprisingly, the different things I wanted to be when I grew up. But my answer surprised her. That for several years during my late teens and early 20’s I wanted to be a politician.

In hindsight, I imagine ego, ambition and a glorified sense of what being a politician entailed drove my desire. But as I grew older and matured a bit, I understood that you never turn off being a politician. You’re a politician when you’re at work, at home and at the grocery store. It becomes your life.

Now, I pride myself in working hard and taking my job seriously. I always have. But to my friends, to my family, to all that I’m close to, I’ll always be just Andy. And I like it that way.

All of these these thoughts have been bubbling to the surface over the last 24 hours or so as I’ve seen professional politicians in action. And make no doubt about it – politicians are professionals no matter what they say.

I was thrilled to see a nice Jewish boy win a Senate seat (from Georgia, no less), along with an African-American pastor. And while it pleased me to see Senators Purdue and Loeffler get defeated, I understood what they did while not condoning it. Because they faced a choice that all professional politicians do at some point: follow your conscious and risk political defeat or choose political expediency and hope for the best. Both Senators chose the later and look where it got them.

The next couple of weeks will likely be rough. I’m still trying to process what’s been happening during the last several hours. It’s hard to picture things getting worse. But in the age of Trump, that’s never a safe bet. Yet I’m also filled with hope.

I hope that the politicians who helped perpetuate President Trump’s ridiculous lies about the election pay a steep price for it. But I also hope that there are people watching these events unfold and are inspired. That they see being a politician as the honorable, worthy endeavor it could be and act accordingly, regardless of their ideology. That they’re part of the rebuilding that will inevitably need to occur.

Senators-elect Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock. (Photo by Jessica McGowan/Getty Images)

Right Said Ted

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

Several years back my parents were visiting us from Connecticut. We were in a park near our home in Minneapolis and came upon a friend of ours. I introduced him to my parents and they made small talk. After the man walked away my wife Wendy said, to no one in particular, “That is the nicest man I ever met.” My mother made a frowny face and then, turning to Wendy, asked, “Isn’t Andy the nicest man you ever met?” “No, replied Wendy, simply. And that was the end of that.

I recalled this conversation during the Holidays as Wendy and I started watching Ted Lasso, which currently is available on Apple TV+. For those of you unfamiliar with the show, Ted Lasso stars Jason Sudekis in the title role – a Kansas coach who travels to England and takes a job as a football team coach. On the surface, it’s your classic fish-out-of-water tale but Sudekis brings a certain earnestness to the role. Ted Lasso is a light, sweet show. And we all know we can use some light and sweet right about now.

Full disclosure – I’m only halfway through the first season (the show already has been renewed for a second and third) but the character Ted Lasso is nice. REALLY nice; almost annoyingly so. And even though Ted Lasso is fictional, he’s got me thinking about what it means to actually be nice.

Now, not to sound conceited but I believe most people in my sphere – personal and professional, would describe me as nice. I’m an extrovert in the truest sense of the word – I get energy from being with people and it’s been hard during this pandemic. I also, as corny as it sounds, believe in treating others like you want to be treated. But not only do I really need to work at being nice; I also need to ensure I’m not being unkind, rude, or short with people.

I have a hunch I’m not alone in feeling like this but as I get older, I realize that any effort I put into being nice – miniscule or large depending on the day, is well worth it. Because let’s be honest – people really can suck. You can bet, too, that every time you think you’ve come upon the suckiest person ever, you most assuredly will come across someone suckier.

Which brings me back to Sudekis’ Ted Lasso, who treats every single person he meets with dignity and respect and displays an unbelievable resiliency no matter what obstacles he faces. All by being nice. Sure, he makes it look easy. Yet we all know better.

Watching Ted Lasso has given me a much-needed reminder that being nice requires an effort. Also, that we truly get what we give. And then some.

Most of us will never be as nice as Ted Lasso and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Yet I really believe there is a Ted Lasso inside all of us who only needs to be awakened.

Image credit: Apple TV+

Sensory Overlord

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I think it happened when my wife Wendy teasingly told me I was developing a crush on British actress Olivia Colman. We were walking our dog and earlier in the day I had Googled “most binge-worthy BBC shows.” I had turned into an Anglophile.

It technically started several years back but I suddenly realized that much of my reading, watching and listening of late had been fueled by England. Here’s a look.

Reading
I read 24 books in 2020 and 11 of them were by the British author Michael Moorcock, who, despite being known primarily as a Science Fiction and Fantasy writer, has written over 100 books in multiple genres. Perhaps it’s this “rabbit hole” aspect of Moorcock that I find particularly appealing but either way, I started reading him late last year and my sense is this will continue into 2021. Other English authors whose work I read include J.G. Ballard, known primarily for his short fiction, and the horror writer Clive Barker.

Listening
My focus on Moorcock ended up influencing my music listening. I’ve always been a rock fan, and especially enjoy harder, melodic bands. Earlier this year, I discovered the English band Tygers of Pan Tang, whose name was influenced by a character in a Moorcock novel as well as Diamond Head, whose songs and album covers also reference his work. These two bands are among the lesser known of a music sub-genre referred to as the “New Wave of British Heavy Metal.” NWOBHM refers to bands such as Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Motörhead that hail from the industrial heart of England. All of these bands lack visual appeal but play a unique type of straightforward, powerful music that has stood the test of time.

Watching
Several weeks back Wendy and I finished the fourth and most recent season of The Crown – the Netflix series that offers a fictional look at the British royal family. The last couple of seasons have featured Olivia Colman, who is excellent as Queen Elizabeth. After we finished The Crown I learned of Broadchurch, a BBC detective show staring Colman and David Tennant that aired a few years back and is available for streaming on Netflix. Wendy and I just finished Broadchurch last night and I can’t recommend it highly enough. Other shows in our queue (see what I did there?) include Flowers, Marcella and Collateral.

I should also note, that when I’m watching television in the evening I’m almost always enjoying a cup of PG Tips tea. For years I only had one objection to tea – that it wasn’t coffee.  But one day, while browsing the “International” section at my local grocery store, I spotted PG Tips tea and haven’t looked back.  It’s dark, bitter and the nifty flip-top box containing the string-less bags boasts “England’s No. 1 Tea.”

And that was all I needed to know.

David Tennant and Olivia Colman in “Broadchurch.” Image credit: BBC