Winner Winner Chicken Lunch!

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

I’m not sure exactly how she heard about it but several weeks back our daughter, Sasha, 14, got the fast food chain Raising Cane’s on the brain. The menu is pretty basic – chicken fingers with fries, Texas Toast and coleslaw. But Sasha had heard nothing but good things about the chain and had to have it.

As it happens, there isn’t a Raising Cane’s located by our house. But this past weekend we spent quite a bit of time in Blaine, MN – about 30 minutes north of us and home to the National Sports Center, where Sasha had a soccer tournament. Blaine is also home to a Raising Cane’s location. So we made plans to visit it for lunch on Sunday after the first of Sasha’s two games.

On Sunday morning I sat on the sidelines while Sasha and her teammates played; cold and a bit hangry. My wife Wendy and I agreed to cover the two games in shifts and I had the morning slot; our son Ethan joined me. And all I could think about was chicken fingers.

But here’s the thing; I don’t even like chicken fingers! I mean, I’ll eat them if I’m hungry and they’re in front of me yet I never crave them. Clearly Sasha has a career ahead of her as a pitchperson.

The game ended and we quickly folded up our chairs. Then Sasha approached Ethan and me and told us that her whole team was heading to lunch at … Noodles & Company. Sasha and her team happened to win their first game and I should have been more cheerful. But the truth is I was pissed. Seriously, I’d been thinking about nothing but chicken fingers for the past 90 minutes!

Fortunately, I had a kindred spirit with me. Ethan is just like me in that once he gets something on the brain, there’s no turning back. So the two of us huddled and formulated our plan. We’d go with Sasha to Noodles & Company, wait for her to eat with her team, drop her off back at the second game where she’d meet up with Wendy. Then the two of us would hit Raising Cane’s before we drove home.

As luck would have it, the service at Noodles & Company was terrible. Ethan and I ended up loitering for about 40 minutes while Sasha and her teammates ate. Then we arrived at Raising Cane’s to find out that the dining area was closed. So we both grabbed our Box Combos and headed out to eat in the car.

But here’s the thing; I hate eating in cars. I don’t consider myself a germaphobe or full-on clean freak. It’s just that I find the idea of all those smells and crumbs in a closed space pretty nauseating.

I also realized as soon as I sat down behind the steering wheel that maneuvering all the Box Combo items, plus taking full advantage of the dipping sauce, was different than eating a sandwich or burger. Yet I tore into the meal with abandon, as did Ethan. It was absolutely amazing – seriously. And having made a promise to Sasha that I’ll take her there, I definitely will be going back.

Like many experiences, especially those with our children, there was something else at play during Ethan and my Raising Cane’s excursion. The time together, of course. But beyond that, the satisfaction of meeting a goal, no matter how small it is. Being open to new experiences. And crumpling up our comfort zones and throwing them in the proverbial trash.

Along with with my picked-clean Box Combo.

Image credit: Raising Cane’s

Guided by Ghosts

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

“If you have ghosts then you have everything”
“If You Have Ghosts,” Roky Erickson

A couple of weeks back I came across an article noting a resurgence in crystals, especially among celebrities. Adele supposedly credited them with helping her sing better. I remembered that I had a crystal tucked away at home, long forgotten – one I made myself during a work team-building exercise back in 2017. My colleague who had organized the outing passed away suddenly from fast-spreading cancer two years ago next month. So I figured I’d honor her by locating the crystal and placing it prominently in my home workspace. Maybe it would bring me luck.

Well, it didn’t. I ended up having a pretty crappy week last week. Nothing serious – just what I refer to as First World problems. I thought of putting the crystal back in storage but then reconsidered. Instead, I actually held it in my hand and looked at it. Then I pictured my departed colleague speaking to me, quickly, the way she always did, and practically. “Eh. Leave the crystal where it is, Andy. You always act too quickly. Be patient and let everything play out. You’ll see; things will get better.”

I let the crystal be.

Yesterday, I was driving by myself, running errands, when the song “Jumper,” by Third Eye Blind, came on. The song always makes me think of a family friend who died by suicide the day after my aforementioned colleague passed away. It’s almost like this dark joke. My friend was something of a hipster – Patti Smith, Leonard Cohen – that was more his bag. So I liked to believe he appreciated the intended irony of me honoring him with a Third Eye Blind song.

While I drove, just like I did with my former colleague, I conjured up my friend. Now, I don’t mean “conjure” in this dramatic, horror movie kind of way; or a trippy, New Age way either. I mean communicated with in a way that seemed to make sense. My friend told me that sure, I was feeling down, maybe a little pissed, but that it wasn’t in my nature to wallow. In fact, I couldn’t do it even if I tried. And that as soon as the song was over I’d move on to other thoughts, which I did.

If you’ve read along this far, perhaps you’re considering ghosts in your own life. It’s tempting to think of ghosts haunting us – that’s what we’re led to believe and popular culture certainly does nothing to dissuade us. But this week I was reminded that ghosts can guide us just as effectively as they can haunt us. We just need to give them the attention they deserve.

Image credit: Credit: Luca Vidini, Getty Images

When the Weight’s Been Lifted

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

Like many of you reading this post, I was anxious yesterday as I awaited a verdict in the Derek Chauvin trial. My wife Wendy, son Ethan and I sat watching CNN, literally on the edge of our seats. We heard the garage door open and our daughter Sasha walked in right as we learned that Chauvin was found guilty on all three counts.

It’s such an admittedly overused expression but our entire family felt like a huge weight had been lifted. And the interesting thing is this relieved state also mimicked something I’ve been feeling on a more personal, individual level. Without getting into the details, something that had been giving me a great deal of stress had recently been removed. And I too felt relieved; again, like a weight had been lifted.

But as yesterday afternoon segued into evening I began experiencing something else – this sense of where do we go from here. As I watched the various press conferences and statements I realized that that the Chauvin verdict was just the start. Now the really hard work began and to put it mildly, there’s quite a bit of work to go around.

I thought too of my own daily life. Although one major stress was lifted, I had plenty on my plate that needed attention. Some seemed quite doable; others more daunting.

Now it’s a new day and I have to admit; that unburdened feeling, at both a macro and micro level, is still there. So there’s no more excuses to start making some real headway.

Sunrise over Minneapolis. Image credit: TCPhoto

“Textbook-y”

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

Ever since she was a little girl, our daughter Sasha, now 14, has had a way with words – a certain practicality with meaning and a unique ability to cut through the clutter. She used to refer to bras as “boob straps” and the area behind her knee as a “leg bit.” Overhearing me describe a dream of mine, Sasha said “Oh, Dad; dreams are no big deal. It’s just stuff you worry about during the day that gets all kookied up in your head while you sleep.”

And yesterday afternoon Sasha added a new one to her list – “textbook-y.”

Sasha used the term to describe the world we’re currently living in – like something out of a textbook. And I get it. She has spent the past year attending school remotely in Minneapolis, where we live. Monday is her first day back but then starting Wednesday she and her peers will return to remote learning as a precaution ahead of an expected verdict in the Derek Chauvin trial. Sasha understands the significance of all that she’s witnessed during the past year. And I made sure to tell her she is far from alone. In fact, I feel the exact same way.

Back in March 2020 when most of the United States went into lockdown mode, I remember thinking that I couldn’t really believe we were dealing with terms like “pandemic” and “quarantine.” My brain went to black and white photos of skinny people (for some reason I picture everyone skinny in black and white) with morose looks on their faces, being treated by nurses – women wearing white, starchy uniforms. Yet here we were, living through a pandemic and going into quarantine.

Then, when the violence broke out in Minneapolis last May and June surrounding the death of George Floyd, I was admittedly scared. Sure, I’d seen violence and looting and members of the National Guard walking down the streets. In history books and news footage from the 1960’s or in “other” cities. But certainly not my own.

2020 wrapped and many of us, myself included, approached 2021 with a sense of optimism. But then right after the New Year, we went several centuries back in our collective textbooks when, on January 6, there was an insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. Wow, “insurrection.” That took me back to at least my grade or middle school textbooks where you’d see an image, a reproduction, because the event being described predated photography. The image, at least in my memory, showed a man that resembled Groundskeeper Willie from The Simpsons, with an incredibly angry look on his face, holding either a torch or pitchfork. But again, here we were – facing an insurrection in modern times.

As grim as things have felt of late, I’d like to close out this post on a hopeful, optimistic note. About five years ago I attended a work event that featured a keynote speaker. His presentation revolved around generational marketing and he made the case that the age group of our kids (and perhaps the kids of some of you reading this post) will comprise the next Greatest Generation. His way of thinking, which I admit, seems prescient today, is that despite being born during an era of incredible technological advancements, they would also face great unforeseen challenges and need to chart their own path – lead by example. And perhaps teach all of us a thing or two along the way.

Here’s to that.

Image credit: Burazin/Getty Images

True West

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

Suffice it to say that escapism has become of paramount importance during the past year and one way our family has found it is through Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Each night after dinner and walking our dog Astro, the four of us will queue up an episode on Hulu. The show has an insane amount of seasons – I believe we’re currently on the seventeenth (seriously). And the best part is providing commentary along the way.

Now, I remember when the show first premiered and being a popular culture junkie, I’m familiar with the various family members’ trials and tribulations. But this is the first time that I’ve ever really stopped to watch it. And I can’t lie – as much as I question the hours wasted, I truly love the show. It’s absolute garbage and portrays a family so flawed – shallow, narcissistic, entitled, but a family nonetheless, with characteristics and dynamics that resonate with all of us.

Now, just to get some basics out of the way: I respect Kim’s ambition and intelligence but am Team Khloé all the way. I find Kourtney insufferable (same with Jonathan, but he’s more a minor figure). And as a parent I find myself empathizing with Kris and finding her quite endearing.

But the family member who I find most interesting is Kanye West, Kim’s fairly recent ex-husband. I’m biased because I’m a music fan but believe he has the most star power in the family. Plus, and I mean this with all due respect to the impressive “famous for being famous” feat the Kardadashians pulled off, West is the one family member with true talent. In fact, the show’s depiction of him as an artist might be closest to reality.

One added benefit of watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians (“KUWTK,” as we prefer to call it) is that it’s helped me bond with both of our kids. Having said I’m a popular culture junkie, I’m also middle-aged and am not up on current popular culture as I once was. I have no qualms about being “that Dad” and often quiz both our son Ethan and daughter Sasha about various friends and hangers-on that come in and out of the Kardashians’ life and have achieved quasi-celebrity status on their own. They’re also both familiar with Kanye West and served as my guides in navigating his extensive catalog.

While I wouldn’t consider myself a Kanye West fan, I do find him impressive and an artist in the traditional sense of the world. He innovates, doesn’t apologize or compromise and always finds ways to provoke, And I believe Keeping Up With the Kardashians does a fairly accurate job portraying how he suffers for it.

Every time he is featured on screen, Kanye West never seems to be enjoying himself or at ease, even he’s with his children. I truly believe West lives in a truly agitated state where he’s constantly thinking about what he needs to create, how he can continue topping himself. I’d imagine, and please forgive the overused word, that it’s a somewhat tortured existence.

But at the end of the day, it’s Kanye West’s output that matters. I’m a lifelong rock fan and didn’t know much about West’s music. But I must say I’m quite impressed with songs like “Stronger,” “Flashing Lights,” and “The Glory.” They feature smart, creative lyrics, are well-arranged and most importantly, seem to stand the test of time. A reminder that West’s work will endure as his outsize persona inevitably fades a bit.

Image credit: E!

Image credit: Steve Eichner/Conde Nast

Nutrient-Rich Content

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

The other night I received a phone call from a friend. I was in the middle of something and told him I’d call back. And when I did, he surprisingly wanted to discuss the HBO series Succession. I had strongly recommended he watch the dramedy, which centers on a family, clearly based on the Murdochs, who run a global media and hospitality empire. He did, along with his wife. In fact, he was three or four episodes in and thought the show pretty much sucked. So his questions to me were basically, “Does it get better and should I stick with it?”

I laughed and told him that he should most definitely bail on Succession. Life is short, I said. Why waste time on something you clearly don’t enjoy.

Later that evening, before bed, I sat down to read Three Californias – a collection of Science Fiction author Kim Stanley Robinson’s first three novels. The books were written in 1984, 1988 and 1990 and each imagines an alternate future set in Orange County. I’m on the second novel, The Gold Coast, and it’s quite good. But the book is dense – literally, all three novels make it the size of an old school phone book. Yet it’s also figuratively dense, with much description and world-building without much subsequent action. And as much as I enjoy Three Californias, I almost have this “eat your veggies” attitude about reading it.

You see, I came to Science Fiction and its twin genre, Fantasy, in a somewhat convoluted way. Both are genres that, from the time I was younger, I always wanted to enjoy; I just never could. I would try various novels and have this sense that while I was reading it there was another entire story going on that I somehow missed.

But something strange happened about five or six years ago. Without realizing it, I began liking Science Fiction and Fantasy to the point where it’s now primarily all I read.

After I put Three Californias away I thought back to my conversation about Succession. Perhaps I gave my friend the wrong advice. Sure, life is short and you need to enjoy it while you can. But, as dorky as it sounds there’s something uniquely enjoyable about digging deep into great content, regardless of its medium. And sometimes that involves eating a bunch of veggies.

Image credit: infogrocery.com

The P-Word

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

Yesterday was supposed to be a special day for me. I was scheduled to get a COVID-19 vaccine; had it on the books for more than a week. And while I knew that realistically my life wouldn’t change that much once I received the vaccine, it was really that peace of mind I was craving. To know that I had gotten it out of the way. That I was one step closer to what all of us hope is a collectively brighter future.

But then, by midmorning, my appointment was cancelled given the pause of Johnson & Johnson’s vaccine. So I scrambled, and ultimately scheduled another appointment. I’m getting the vaccine; just not on the day that I anticipated.

The whole time I was scouring social media and various websites, a word kept circulating around my brain: “pivot.” Man, am I sick of that word even though I’m guilty of using it quite a bit during the past year. Personally and professionally. And you know something; talking about pivoting is one thing; doing it is quite another.

What I’ve found about pivoting is that when you talk about it in this big picture, abstract sort of way, it all makes sense. Adapt. Adjust. Go with the flow. Change is going to happen anyway so you might as well go along for the ride rather than resisting it. All well and good. Until it affects you.

Because yesterday I didn’t want to pivot. I had planned my day around getting a vaccine. Let myself get into a certain mindset. And now I had to get out of it. Which I did reluctantly.

If you’re reading this post, I bet there’s a good change you’ve recently used the word “pivot.” It’s hard to avoid; I get it. But my ask of you is that before you use the word again, consider if you’ve ever actually had to pivot; not just say it. Remember what it felt like; if it was disruptive, easy or somewhere in the middle. My hope is that feeling of empathy, of gaining a needed perspective, is as enriching for you as it was for me.

Image credit: istockphoto.com

I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and I’ll Blow Your News Cycle Down

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

As a professional communicator I’ve always found myself on shaky moral ground when it comes to evaluating former President Donald Trump. I felt this when he was a candidate, it extended through his time in office and I don’t see it changing any time soon. It’s this strange sense of being fascinated, if not oddly impressed, by a particular communications strategy while finding the communicator himself repugnant.

It probably started with me back in October 2016 when then-candidate Donald Trump became embroiled in the Access Hollywood tape scandal. Now, there was no middle ground about what Donald Trump said and unfortunately it aligned not only with his reputation but with countless other public statements. But he didn’t take a page out of the typical shamed politician playbook; he didn’t act contrite or apologize. Rather, he blustered his way through the scandal until eventually, it went away.

I remember after Donald Trump took office having a conversation with my father-in-law about whether his response to the Access Hollywood tape would serve as template for other politicians to follow. And several weeks back I received my answer.

First it was New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, who in the wake of sexual harassment allegations, blamed cancel culture. He almost seemed to mimic Trump reluctantly after first taking the “if I ignore it, it will go away on its own” approach. In fact, it was almost as if Governor Cuomo had a sixth sense another politician scandal would push his out of the way. Fortunately for him, Florida Congressman Matt Gaetz came along.

Rep. Gaetz, one of President Trump’s fiercest defenders in Congress, is being investigated by the FBI for an alleged sexual relationship with a 17-year-old girl, in exchange for payments. But Rep. Gaetz is telling anyone who will listen to him that it’s all a conspiracy theory – a smear campaign against him by the media and Department of Justice. In fact, he recently told a group of Trump supporters in Florida that “the truth will prevail.”

I remember a few years back listening to a podcast with the journalist and music critic Chuck Klosterman. He was talking about Donald Trump’s impressive resilience and made the case that it’s because Trump literally lacks shame. Klosterman’s logic was that politicians who face scandals will usually reach the point where the shame – personal and professional, becomes unbearable so they will either apologize or often, resign their seat. So, by those standards perhaps a commonality between Donald Trump, Andrew Cuomo and Matt Gaetz is that all the men lack shame.

I really hope the whole notion of blustering your way through a scandal withers away sooner rather than later. It’s bad enough that people talk of a “post-truth” society. None of us want to face a society that is “post-shame.”

Image credit: Big Bad Wolf from Walt Disney’s Three Little Pigs

One Generation’s Candles Are Another’s Dynamite

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

Our 16-year-old son is taking turns with his grandfather driving back from Florida so for the past few days it’s just been my wife Wendy, Sasha and me. I miss Ethan but have truly been enjoying our time with Sasha. Wendy and I are using this opportunity to do what Sasha wants to do, eat what Sasha wants to eat and, as it happens, watch what Sasha wants to watch. And last night it happened to be the 2004 move Napoleon Dynamite.

Now, I consider myself a popular culture junkie so of course was familiar with Napoleon Dynamite. I knew it was a movie that people of a certain age adored and quoted often. That for the most part it was highly regarded. But that’s about it.

So Wendy, Sasha and I started watching Napoleon Dynamite. I thought visually it was pretty cool and creative and quirky, no doubt. But the more I watched, the more I kept asking myself “What the heck do people find so funny about this movie?” Because I just didn’t get it. We ended up stopping the movie halfway through. Sasha went to her room to FaceTime her friends. Wendy and I went back to The Serpent on Netflix.

Earlier today Napoleon Dynamite came up in conversation and I again made my “I don’t get what the big deal is” case. That’s when Wendy used an analogy that struck a chord with me. Without using these exact words she basically said I was too old for Napoleon Dynamite and that if we were much younger in 2004, when the movie came out, it might resonate with us differently. “You know,” said Wendy. “It’s kind of like their Sixteen Candles.”

Now, like I’d imagine some of you reading this post, I’ve seen Sixteen Candles a ridiculous amount of times, can recite whole sections of dialogue. But objectively, is the movie anything special? I’d almost make the case that Napoleon Dynamite, even based on the half of it I saw, was more creatively interesting.

Napoleon Dynamite got me thinking of “standing the test of time,” which, of course, is completely subjective. I’m a huge Classic Rock fan and to this day listen to bands like Blue Öyster Cult, AC/DC, Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin all the time. Some believe Classic Rock endures only because of people’s ongoing sense of nostalgia. That it’s really not so much the music you like but that you’re conjuring up a specific time in your life when you listen to it. Perhaps that explains the appeal of Napoleon Dynamite.

Or maybe everything I just wrote is hogwash. Maybe we should just like what we like and be true to ourselves and not give a damn about what anyone else thinks. Kind of like Napoleon Dynamite.

Image credit: austinchronicle.com

Fruit of My Labor

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

A few months back our 14-year-old daughter Sasha started pitching me on the notion of eating an orange in the shower. Like most members of her generation, she saw a meme about it. The way Sasha explained it, you go into the shower holding an orange. Then, while the water is running you peel and eat it, under the water. The combination of the juice and the water, texture and temperature, it was supposed to be quite liberating.

I truthfully was intrigued but never got around to trying it. Sasha moved onto other memes and never brought up eating an orange in the shower again.

I hadn’t thought of oranges in the shower until several hours ago when I had a mango for breakfast. Now, for some context, mangoes are my favorite fruit. I love it when they’re in fruit salad and if I’m at a gathering with multiple people I’m extra cautious about selecting other fruit and leaving enough mango behind for others. But I also find mangoes something of a finicky and difficult fruit. They’re really hard to eat, at least for me.

Every so often I’ll see mangoes on sale at my local grocery store. I’ll buy a bunch, bring them home and spend a good 10-15 minutes slicing them up. And one of two things happen: either the mango will be dry and tasteless or else I’ll feel like I labor and labor and have very little to show for it.

So suffice it to say that over the weekend, I was hesitant when I noticed another sale on mangoes. But I bought a couple anyway. And this morning, after I had eaten my typical bowl of cereal, still, in my running clothes, I asked if anyone in my family wanted some mango. There were no takers so, sensing my opportunity, I grabbed the mango, a knife and a cutting board and sat down at the table by myself.

For the next several minutes I completely immersed myself in eating the mango, throwing all semblance of table manners and cleanliness out the window. I seriously attacked it. And while I did all types of life analogies kept swirling through my brain:

• If you want something, you need to work for it
• Enjoyment is completely unique and it really is all about the little things
• Don’t let anything go to waste; an experience isn’t really worthy until you’ve squeezed all the juice out of it
• Ripeness is a temporary state; take advantage of it while you can
• Messiness comes with the territory

After a while I wiped my hands and face and looked down, satisfied at the mass of peel on the cutting board. Then I cleaned everything up and showered, confident that what I just experienced was way better than eating an orange. Regardless of the setting.