For What We’re Worth

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

I had coffee with a old friend yesterday who I hadn’t seen in quite some time. He had retired, right before the COVID-19 pandemic truly started impacting the United States and many of his plans, not surprsignly, were put on hold. Yet beyond that, he struggled with the notion of retirement. My friend realized that so much of his life, his identify, was built around his working persona. When that persona ended, he found it hard to determine his worth.

While retirement, at least at this point in my life and career, is not something I spend much time considering, what my friend said resonated with me. It made me realize the areas of my life that brought me worth: being a father, husband and marketing professional. All had evolved over the years. Yet for puposes of this blog post and being true to myself, I’m going to focus on what I noted first – my worth as a father.

I’m not sure when you’ll actually read this post but it’s early Saturday morning as I write it. Our 16-year-old son Ethan had friends sleep over so our downstairs is full of empty Fanta cans and snack bags. In a little bit I’m going to drive to Dunkin’ and pick up a dozen dougnuts for them and some coffee for my wife and me. As corny as it might sound, it’s these small gestures that give me pleasure. They also reinforce my worth as a father, reminding me our kids still need me. Because, while I want to believe our kids will always need me, they’ll likely need me in different ways.

In a few years, Ethan will be out of the house; our daughter Sasha shortly after him. I’ll of course still be a father, but a father to what technically will be adult children. That changes my worth quite a bit. And it’s a bit scary to consider.

Writing this post makes me realize that I’d imagine many of us view aging with apprehension because we believe our worth declines. Let’s be honest, too. It’s not like society does us any favors with its inherent ageism. Yet it really is a cruel irony, when we consider it. Becuase your worth does increase as you age. That’s when all your experience, the good the bad and the ugly, really starts to mean something, when you start getting that worthy perspective to pass on to others. But no one cares.

As for my friend, he ultimately found his worth. He told me of his life in retirement, spending time with old and new friends, his granddaugher, projects he was undertaking. I suppose in the end we always need to be creating and recreating our worth. Because no one else will.

Image credit: Yeshi Kangrang

Counter Measures

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

I was talking to a friend yesterday and the restuarant Duluth Grill came up. The place was featured on the Food Network show “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” back in the day. It’s quite awesome – one of those rare restaurants where you can pretty much close your eyes, point to something on the menu, and be confident you’re getting a great meal. I used to eat there regulalry several years ago when work brought me to the area.

Earlier in our discussion, my friend and I were having an exchange about the topsy-turvy nature of everyday life. How everything can be going awesome until it isn’t. Then it is again. And so forth.

But after we started talking about the Duluth Grill, I shared a memory of one particular solo visit I had made. I had driven up to the area the evening before for an early morning presentation, which didn’t go as well as I’d wanted. So I walked back to my car, feeling pretty dejected and mostly, sorry for myself, and headed back towards the Twin Cities.

I had already eaten breakast, just like I always do, but as I passed the I-35 exit for the Duluth Grill, I was compelled to stop. After all, it was only 9 a.m. and I had plenty of drive ahead of me. I needed to be fortified.

So I sat down at the counter. Ordered breakfast and ate it. Drank coffee. Read the paper. Grabbed another coffee to go and drove the rest of the way home. By that time I already was feeling better and the presentation, which, although it had only happened an hour or two before, already seemed like it was proverbially way, way back in the distance.

Now, the Duluth Grill prides itself on fresh ingredients and scratch cooking. But I don’t believe there was anything in the breakfast itself that gave me some special healing powers. It was the action I took, along with the process that went with it. Recognizing something wasn’t quite right. And then taking another action. A countermeasure, if you will. Literally and figuratively.

Last summer our family took a trip up to the Lutsen ski resort, on Minnesota’s North Shore. We stopped at the Duluth Grill for lunch on the way there and the return trip home. Each time my eyes went to the same stool where I sat eating breakfast by myself all those years ago. And each time it was filled by someone who I hope was experiencing their own countermeasure. Or just enjoying a great meal.

Image credit: Mick Haupt

Bookends

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

As time passes I’ve become an even larger proponent of the adage that “it’s all about the little things.” Earlier today I was Rollerblading around Lake Harriet in Minneapolis, near where I live, listening to a Spotify playlist titled “summer road trip ’21.” Our daughter Sasha started the playlist earlier this summer, in prepration of our family’s recently-completed road trip to Las Vegas. “summer road trip ’21” contains mostly Pop songs from the past few years. We have Spotify playlists going back to previous summer roadtrips and I enjoy listening to them as the activity takes me right back to a particular happy place and I experience that moment in time all over again.

So there I was, blading along, trying to concurrently maintain my groove and not fall flat on my face. Eventually I acheived some semblance of balance and started daydreaming – the best part of exercising. While daydreaming I got the song “S&M” by Rihanna stuck inside my head. I truthfully just learned of the song a couple of months back from our kids. The lyrics are silly and mildy naughty but man, is it catchy. I wondered if “S&M” was included on our “summer road trip ’21 playlist.”

And wouldn’t you know it, about five minutes later, as I worked my way around Lake Harriet, I heard “S&M.” I recalled a blog post I wrote in mid-July about a song by Machine Gun Kelly, also included on our “summer road trip 21” playlist, “My Ex’s Best Friend,” and procliamed it my “Song of Summer.” So I suppose that “S&M,” if there can be such a thing, served as my “Song of Summer” bookend.

The thing about Pop music I’ve found is that it doesn’t stay Pop music forever. Just listen to Classic Rock radio for a bit. Mixed in with Boston, ELO and Lynard Skynard, you’re likely to hear songs by Duran Duran, Culture Club and Spandau Ballet, which were considered Pop music when I was the same age as our kids are now.

Throughout this summer I’ve had this pervasive sense of “enjoy it while you can,” especailly as it relates to our kids. Our son Ethan, at 16, will be out of the house before too long and spent most of this summer working or hanging out with his friends, as he should. Sasha, our daughter, at 14, will be out of the house a few years after him. So I hang on to any little bit of time I can spend with them.

And I suppose, beyond their catchiness, that’s what draws me to Pop music and songs by Machine Gun Kelly, Rihanna and their peers. A chance to share something speical and fun with our kids that’s very much of the moment. Because, we all know that as much as we try to hang onto moments, they’re never as meaningful as when we’re first experiencing them.

Image credit: Fallon Michael

Dancing with the one that brought you

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

Several years ago I was having dinner with a group of friends. One was finishing his cocktail right as the waiter approached our table. The waiter asked this friend if he wanted another of the same. My friend said yes and then turned to us, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Dance with the one that brought you.”

I had never heard the expression before and truthfully, I’m not really sure my friend used it in the right conext. But I got the gist of it, reinfored after all these years. Stay loyal. Especially to those who have gone out of their way for you.

It’s interesting because even though I haven’t thought of the expression in years, I considered it twice this past week. The first time was when I was talking to one of our kids about the soon-approaching start of school. We were discussing the possibility of making new friends and I was mentioning how, in my view, there tends to be two types of people: Those who are constantly seeking new friendships and expanding their sphere. And those who, once they find their people, stick with them.

But later in the week, I realized that what I said wasn’t entirely accurate. That it’s not necessarily one or the other. That a middle ground exists.

Even though I’m an extrovert and enjoy meeting new peope, I’ve always thought of myself as somoene who finds their core group and then sticks with them. For some reason I’ve always used the expression “when you’re in; you’re in” to describe my attitude toward friendships, which in reality is pretty similar to “Dance with the one that brought you.”

Without getting into details, I found myself in a situation this week where I wanted to thank a group of people who had been particularly loyal and helpful to me. Most were people that I’d known for quite some time and we’d cultivated a relationship. But one I barely knew; had just met, in fact, but had been tremendously helpful to me. I will make it my aim to be helpful to them at some point.

The reality is, there are vaguely corny expressions for just about every single occassion. And it’s usally tempting to just ignore them. But this week served as a much-needed reminder that we truly do get what we give. All the more reason to keep giving.

Image credit: Ardian Lumi

Faces, Not Places

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

When my wife Wendy and I purchased our house several years ago, its large deck was a key selling point.  Extending off sliding glass doors from the living/dining room, it covered the entire back of the house.  The deck featured space for a grill, table and chairs and plenty of room for lounging.  It was appropriately sturdy for children who had yet been born.

We moved in with the best intentions for the deck, which we would christen the following spring.  Reading the paper together while enjoying coffee and bagels, becoming engrossed in a good novel or just hanging out with friends or each other were sure to become regular occurrences.  And all of those things happened with some degree of regularity.  They just didn’t happen on the deck.

I’m not entirely sure why but we didn’t start really appreicating the deck until the past few years. Now, on most evenings, Wendy and I will head out to the deck as soon as the work day is done and our kids will join us if they’re around. And, this summer, it’s become our go-to spot for entertaining friends.

During the past few months, I’ve had countless great conversations on the deck, with a wide variety of people. The people vary from those I’ve just gotten to know during the past few years to longtime friends. So too have the conversations varied, from getting caught up on kids and school activities, to deeply personal topics.

Yet I didn’t truly realize the large role our deck played in my family’s summer until the other day when a client asked me how I’d spent our weekend. It was part of an email exchange where they included a photo of their young children at their first day of school. I explained that we’d had people over on our deck for drinks and they asked in response if I wouldn’t mind sending a photo of the deck.

“Hmm” I thought. I scrolled through my phone. Took a quick glance at social channels. But no deck.

Given that my client sent a photo of their children, I decided to do the same and rather than snagging a photo of the deck, sent the image that accompanies this post. It’s our family at the Hoover Dam in Nevada, from about 10 days ago.

It was our family’s first visit to the Hoover Dam and the place was pretty amazing. But, as corny as it might sound, it’s the happy faces of our family that really will stick with me, not Hoover Dam, the place. So, whether it’s something pretty basic like a deck off your house, or a standout attraction like the Hoover Dam, places, in the end, don’t really matter. Faces do.

Rockin’ the Freeways

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

As I’ve noted in recent posts, our family just completed our annual summer road trip; this year to Las Vegas. My family didn’t take road trips growing up so for me the experience has been something of a novelty. While of course the destination and related activities surrounding it are memorable, so too is everything along the way. Ranking the different gas stations and rest stops. The it-never-goes-out-of-style license plate game. Salty, sweet and caffeine-loaded snacks. And of course the music selection.

Our family discovered two good podcasts – Heavy Medals, about the U.S. women’s gymnastics program, and Toxic: The Britney Spears Podcast. But we still found ourselves with countless hours to fill. So beyond occassionally finding radio stations in various areas we traveled through, my wife Wendy and I, the two primary drivers, accessed albums via Spotify and listened to them in their entirety. I thought at one point the trip would be a good way to discover some new music. But instead we listened to a variety of old favorites, sonic comfort food if you will; many of which we hadn’t heard in quite some time. Here’s a look:

Rockin’ The Suburbs – Ben Folds, 2001
It’s hard lyrically to get much better than Ben Folds. He’s cynical and biting without ever being bitter and is impressively ahead of his time in addressing many social issues of the day.

Speakerboxx/The Love Below – OutKast, 2003
OK, I believe many of you reading this post have probably heard “Hey Ya!” enough but the deep cuts on this concept album are amazigly produced and of course, catchy as all get-out. I am much less familiar with Hip Hop than most other music genres. But I’ve just been starting to dig into Kanye West over the past several months and honestly hear traces of OutKast in his work.

Tusk – Fleetwoood Mac, 1979
Back in the early aughts I was on a Lindsey Buckingham kick and purchaed this CD, listening to this quite a bit. Tusk is all the more impressive considering it was the follow-up to the mega-selling Rumours and couldn’t be more different. While Tusk features songs like “Sara” and “Angel” that are more reminisicnet of its predecessor, I believe the album’s strenth lies in the Buckingham-centric offerings that are raw, quirky and don’t sound remotely dated.

Now, for some context, we typically listened to these aforementioned albums between 3:00-6:00 p.m., when we were getting toward the end of the travel day, starting to think about exploring our next destination. The next couple of albums were ones I selected at about 10 or 11 a.m., when the caffeine started wearing off and I needed an alternative energy source.

Diver Down – Van Halen, 1982
This album holds sentimential value for me as it was the first Van Halen record I ever purchased. And, while I don’t believe it’s their best, it’s still my favorite. Diver Down contains a ton of covers but in typical Eddie Van Halen fashion, he keeps their familair elements while making them entirely unique. Listening to Diver Down reminded me of how much he’ll be sorely missed.

Pyromania – Def Leppard, 1983
Pyromania was one of my favorite albums growing up and it had been awhile since I listened to it from beginning to end. “Photograph” and “Rock of Ages” will continue to be awesome no matter how many gagillion times I hear them. But its the B-sides like “Stagefright,” and “Action Not Words,” that I believe truly make this album stand the test of time.

If you have a roadtrip planned for these remaining weeks of summer, my hope is this post inspired you. Or just click away on your device or laptop and check out these albums. Either way, happy listening and safe travels to you.

Image credit:  MARCO BOTTIGELLIGETTY IMAGES

Saying Goodbye to Andy from Arizona

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

Back in December 2014 I took a work trip to Arizona for a few days. Our son Ethan, as a big football fan, asked me to buy him a Cardinals hat. So I purchased him one at the airport, paying a ridiculously inflated price. Ethan never wore the hat so I made it my own.

So, from about April through October I’ll wear the Cardinals hat on weekends when our family is out and about or if we’re traveling together and I’m outside quite a bit. I actually never wore hats of any kind growing up, save during the dead of winter. It’s a concession to my age and not wanting to get sunburn on my scalp, which is much more exposed than it once was.

But somewhere along the way, the hat has become something of a new identity, a source of jokes within my family. Because, along with the hat, I’m typically wearing sunglasses, a t-shirt, cargo shorts and either Vans with socks or Teva’s. I couldn’t look any more like a bland middle-aged Dad if I tried. Or, as I like to introduce myself occasionally to our kids, “Andy from Arizona.”

As the kids grew older, Ethan joked that the hat and Cardindals Dad get-up made me look like a narc so I started calling myself A.J. Thomas – the first name that came to mind and an homage to the 80’s detective shows I grew up watching. A.J. Thomas became a key staple of my Dad jokes. And, as is the case with most Dad jokes, I was having more fun with A.J. Thomas than anyone else.

Last week our family was in Las Vegas for our annual road trip. Ethan, an amusement park ride enthusiast, wanted to go on the roller coaster at New York-New York and I told him I’d go along with him. Now, I’m not crazy about roller coasters and Ethan, at 16, was old enough to go on his own. But I didn’t think that would be as much fun as me riding with him.

I forgot to remove my Carindals hat and it flew off my head less than a minute into the ride. The hat was actually the least of my worries. I was absolutely horrified during the ride and spent most of it with my eyes squeezed shut wishing it would end soon. The handful of times I did peek at Ethan I noticed he was shouting with joy with a big smile on his face and both arms raised over his head in triumph. I wondered how much he really needed me to accompany him on future rides.

After the ride Ethan and I met up with my wife Wendy and daughter Sasha, who wisely decided not to go on the rollercoaster. My missing hat was a big topic of conversation and Sasha said that when she was younger and we’d be in a crowded place, its red color is what she used to keep me visibile to her. I also missed the Cardinals hat but honestly was too focused on my relief at not being on the ride anymore.

Our family’s next stop was to see the Blue Man Group at the Luxor so we started heading in that direction. But first we stopped at a gift shop where I promptly purchased a Las Vegas Raiders baseball hat and immediately begain wearing it. The kids and I even came up with another narc alias – Tony Gino (Wendy served as the final decider of “Gino” vs. “Geno”). I think it’s a bit too ethnic for a narc name but it will do for now.

I continued walking toward the Luxor with our family, wearing the Raiders hat. Stopping along the way to look in shops and take in the people-watching splendor of a Saturday night in Las Vegas. Seeing everyone, in one form or another, having fun being someone else. If only for a little while.

Image credit: azcardinals.com

From Salt to Sin

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

Our family is nearing the end of our annual summer road trip. Las Vegas was our destination and on the way here we spent a day in Salt Lake City. None of us had been there before and in most ways it was exactly what I pictured. Beautiful scenery. Clean. A city for sure but not a ton going on. But what I didn’t account for was the niceness of its people.

We began our Salt Lake City visit by checking out Temple Square; what I perceive as a key epicenter of Mormonism. Our family sarted walking around the area, somehwat aimlessly, until we came upon a series of smiling young women who clearly were giving tours. So we joined one tour shortly after it began and learned a decent amount about Mormonism in the process.

Prior to the visit, I barely know enough about Mormonism to be dangerous but was very impressed with what I heard from our tour guide, who spoke of her Mission to France and the work she and her “sisters” did at Temple Square. Not being particularly religious myself, I enjoyed hearing the perspective of someone who lived a life so grounded in their faith. That, plus the fact that she was so genuinely nice.

This niceness continued everywhere we went. Baristas, waiters, you name it. All couldn’t be kinder and more welcoming to their city. It was also ironoic considering Salt Lake City seemed realtively sleepy and our family kept jokingly asking ourselves where everyone was.

In some regards, Las Vegas, where we arrived the other day, couldn’t be more different than Salt Lake City, but interestingly the cities have niceness in common. Both my wife Wendy and I have been to Las Vegas at various times but it’s our teenage kids’ first visit and they absolutely love it. As much as they can given their ages, I do believe they get that people from all over the world visit Las Vegas to escape from their daily existence and live in a reality of their choosing.

Las Vegas is built around making its visitors feel special and all the people you come into contact with do what they can to treat you that way. Even though I’m not a gambler what I’ve always loved about Las Vegas is that the city takes entertainment seriously. And the people who work the Las Vegas tourism industry display a service-oriented niceness that resonates with me.

Interestingly, our family is heading back to Minnesota, but I can tell you that “Minnesota Nice” is often anything but. Minnesota passive-agressiveness is as common as our lousy weather and great way of life. The state, not to mention the Twin Cities, where I live, could certainly learn quite a bit from Salt Lake City and Las Vegas.

And I suppose in the end, that’s why, if we’re fortunate enough, we travel for pleasure. To escape our everyday lives while currently giving them needed perspective.

Image credit: Steve Griffin, Deseret News

From ET to DT

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

Our family just kicked off our annual summer road trip, headed to Las Vegas and back. The first leg of our trip brought us to Rapid City, South Dakota. As soon as we checked into our aribnb, all our two teenage kids wanted to do was see Mt. Rushmore.

Now this was a pleasant surprise because our family actually took a South Dakota road trip back in 2013, with Rapid City as our base. We did the Bandlands, Mt. Rusmore, Crazy Horse Monument, you name it. And our kids were crabby the entire time, at each other’s throats. In fact one of my favorite pictures of our kids is of them sitting together in front of Mt. Rushmore. It’s a beautifu summer morning and they couldn’t look more miserable.

So our family drove up to Mt. Rushmore last night, after dinnertime, and it was just as amazing as I remembered it. The first time I saw Mt. Rushmore I actually was expecting myself to be disappointed, thinking it would be some cheesy tourist trip. I couldn’t believe how wrong I was and as hokey as it might sound, it’s truly a symbol of American accomplishment.

For some context, I’m a sucker for national parks and monuments.

When my now-wife Wendy and I were dating and lived in Washington, DC, we borrowed a car and spent the day hiking in Shenandoah National Park. I still remember the conversations we had while hiking, when the small snake crawled over her foot and the ruckus it made.

Several months later Wendy and I took our first road trip together as a couple. She met me in Phoenix, where I had a work conference, and we drove to southeastern Utah, where we hiked in Canyonlands and Arches national parks. Up until that point, I had only seen the Western United States in movies, television shows and of course, in my imagination. I learned that the term “majestic” wasn’t just some hokey expression used in travelogues and that it actually meant something.

But I noticed something else in those national parks – a pretty amazing collective attitude and pride in our country. You see all types if you spend time in national parks – young, old and every physical characteristic. And you tend to see quite a bit of smiles. I swear something about national parks makes people behave better, act civil towards one another. People convey the attitude that they definitely want to be there.

Last night our family hiked a series of steps up to the highest point where tourists are allowed. We stoood along with the other tourists, marveling at the faces. All of I sudden I heard “Look, it’s E.T.!” I turned around and there was a grandmother-type pointing at a section of the mountain next to the Presidents’ faces that had not yet been fully formed. And you know something, she was righ – it really did look like E.T. I couldn’t help myself; I started cracking up right on the spot.

“Hopefully they’ll be room for Trump’s face,” I heard another voice say. I again turned around and this time it was a gent in his mid-sixties, wearing a red Trump 2024 baseball hat. He was smiling, not ironically or belligerently. Just smiling the way people do when they’re at a national park. I smiled back at him and then returned to looking at the faces.

After a few minutes, we took our pictures and starting heading back down to the car. Along with all the others who came and saw what they wanted to see.