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December 1, 2007

Two Encounters

Earlier this week I had dinner in Texas with an 87 year old man who has been mayor of his small town for 12 years. Yes, a political dynasty that began when he was 75. We spoke about his philanthropy work, his grandchildren, mutual acquaintences and his lovely wife who is 85. His was and is a life well lived. A life full of joy and still meaningful because of the service he continues to give.

Today I spoke a teenage girl who is repeating the ninth grade because the first time through she was homeless and addicted to drugs and alcohol. I asked her what caused her to turn her life around. She said it was her aunt who took her in and showed her what a real family is like. And it was her teachers in the small Idaho town where she now lives who mentored her and showed they care. In speaking with this young woman, you would never sense the rough life she has had. She was not bitter but full of hope.

These encounters caused me to step back and reflect. Am I living a life I will be proud of when I am in my late eighties. Am I a good enough mentor to those in need.

November 11, 2007

Last Week's Highlights

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Dinner of Cobra and Stilled Water

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Can Tab Convention

September 22, 2007

Woodworking

A few months ago my friend Michael who is serving life without parole in an Alabama prison asked me to buy some wood so he could make items to sell at a consignment shop owned by a fellow inmate’s sister. There isn’t a way to earn spending money at the prison.

I figured he had access to a workshop with tools for his projects. When I asked Michael about that, he said there isn’t a workshop. All his woodworking is done in his cell using handmade tools. He’s fashioned a saw out of old razor blades and a drill using the core of a AA battery.

I admit I was a bit skeptical, especially when he said he would build roll top desks and gazebos. How would he have enough room in his cell to build something that big and heavy-not to mention sawing 1 x 6s with razor blades? I was even more skeptical when he sent a letter letting me know he had shipped a roll top desk to me.

This week a large square box arrived from Michael with 34 first class stamps affixed to the outside. The abundance of stamps reminded me of sending letters home from Mexico during a period of hyperinflation when the postage rates kept rising faster than they could print new stamps. Most letters were sent home with five to ten postage stamps on the envelope.

Below is the beautiful cedar miniature roll top desk I found packed with newspaper inside the box. It is about 2 feet tall. Not a single nail was used to build it. I need to fix a few pieces that fell off in transit, but overall it is in excellent shape. What an amazing talent. And to think I doubted.

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September 18, 2007

Milk Crisis

I receive on average about 100 emails a day, not counting the several hundred that get flagged by our spam shield. Among Saturday’s selection was this one from our milkman. Yes, here in Idaho there are still milkmen that deliver to homes on a weekly basis.

Subject: Stolen Milk Truck

Over the years I have worried
about someone stealing some of our
cows during the night.

I did not expect someone to steal
our milk truck!!! That's right, one
of our milk trucks was stolen Friday night.

Please call me if you have any sightings
of a spotted truck. My cell number
is 208-xxx-xxxx. I am not sure how
far away the robber has taken the truck
so if you leave out of Idaho I would
appreciate it if you also would be on
the look out for a stolen truck.

Thanks for your help,

Alan

I’d like to say I spent the weekend looking for a truck painted to look like a holstein cow, but Breanna and I were in Ohio for a visit to Grandma and Grandpa. Breanna got to learn the art of running through an airport Sunday morning after her Dad’s alarm didn’t go off and we had only 50 minutes to catch our flight.

I was pleased to see a follow up email from our milkman yesterday morning titled Milk Truck Found.

Turns out the mechanic had taken the truck to his home to fix without telling anyone.

September 3, 2007

Mansfield Park

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Mansfield Park

Last Friday, LaPriel and I watched Finding Jane, the new Jane Austin film. I don’t view too many movies so I’m a poor judge of technique. Suffice to say, we were amply entertained ⎯ which given the quality of most movies nowadays is saying something.

Afterwards, LaPriel reminded me of a trick I played on her years ago when our eldest son was a few months old. It was a demanding time. I was in graduate school and LaPriel was home with an all-consuming infant. One afternoon I arrived at the house with an 1892 edition of Jane Austin’s Mansfield Park I had bought at a library book sale. I showed LaPriel the book and encouraged her to read it. At that time in her life, the thought of reading a novel seemed overwhelming to her. Still, after paging through book, she decided it wasn’t too long so she would give it a try. Several weeks later she was absorbed by the plot and the characters. As she neared the end of the book, she noticed the novel wasn’t approaching a conclusion. That’s when she examined the title page more carefully and discovered she’d been reading volume one of two. She was most annoyed. Looking back, it was insensitive of me, but at that point of my life, despite being knee deep in an MBA program, I was consumed by literature. I'd spend hours reading and rereading classic novels, visiting used book stores, attempting to learn ancient greek and wondering why I was studying something so banal as business. Somehow I couldn't relate to why LaPriel wouldn't want to read so a bit of deceit seemed justified to get her back on the literature wagon again.

August 31, 2007

Eye drops

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A Rare Rainbow

I stop at the eye drop aisle in Wal-mart. A white-haired woman in her seventies is studying an eye drop box. I pick up my favorite brand. She still examines the side of the box.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m looking for the expiration date,” she says.

“Eye drops have expiration dates?”

“Yes, they don’t work as well if they expire.” She points at the box. “2004. That’s not good.”

“I think that’s the copyright date for the packaging.”

She doesn’t believe me, and picks up another box. I look at my eye drops and find the expiration date on the bottom of the box. November 2008.

She looks at hers. “2003. This one’s expired too.”

“The expiration date is on the bottom.” I point to it. March 2009, although it is written March 09.

“March 9th,” she says. “That’s good.”

I let her be. I’m sure she will use them up before next March.

August 11, 2007

Life's Simple Pleasures

My friend, who is serving a life without parole sentence, commented in a letter this week that he’d been thinking about life’s simple pleasures he misses after twenty-five years in prison. His lives in the sweltering mugginess of Alabama. At the top of his list was ice. What he wouldn’t give for a tall glass of ice water, he wrote. In prison, they spend their days drinking tepid water.

My list of simple pleasures includes:

1. Sitting on our front porch on summer evenings and feeling the air cool.
2. The sweetness of a freshly picked tomato.
3. Afternoon naps.
4. Gladiolas, roses and poppies.
5. A well written sentence.

I am blessed with a simple life. LaPriel and I went to Sam’s Club yesterday and walked among the towering shelves of merchandise. So many things called out to be purchased, but I found nothing interested me⎯except for a box of blueberries, which I bought and happily consumed.

LaPriel and I often dream of the day when I quit work and we can travel as much as we want. As I contemplate that, I look at my belongings and mentally begin giving them away, winnowing them down to the essentials. Here are the seven things, excluding clothes, I think I could keep and live a perfectly contented life.

1. Apple Powerbook
2. Panerai watch
3. iPhone
4. Trek road bike
5. Nikon D50 digital camera
6. Moleskine notebook
7. Pen

What are your seven?

July 29, 2007

Miscellany

Another week has come and gone. I spent several days in Texas, including a soggy drive from San Antonio to College Station. I’ve never seen Texas so green. I am convinced Texas municipalities have either not heard of or are fundamentally opposed to sign height ordinances. The businesses seem to compete on the basis of who can erect the tallest, biggest sign. Even churches participate. It all makes for an extremely cluttered appearance. Of course, maybe I’m just sensitive to it because a national chain restaurant recently opened its doors in our little Idaho town and tried to get the city council to change the 24 foot sign height limit. Half of the council members were persuaded by the restaurant, despite a strongly worded statement by the P&Z commission to keep the current ordinance in place. Fortunately, our mayor had enough sense to stand by the P&Z commission and cast the tiebreaking vote to keep sign heights at 24 feet.

I managed to finish the new Harry Potter book last Friday without the media or anyone else spoiling the ending for me. I’ll leave it at that so I don’t spoil the ending for you.

I’ve been pondering and writing a short story for several weeks now. My writing pace is glacial. In fact, to date I only have one sentence that satisfies me. On the other hand, I have no deadline and I write to please myself so I might as well keep working at it until I’m happy.

Security markets have been more volatile of late. After four years of an upward march and minimal dislocation, finally there is some uncertainty that will hopefully create future opportunity.

I have wanderlust again. It has only been three months since I was in France, and I’m ready to pack up and go faraway. An island would be ideal. I’d take LaPriel and the kids of course. The problem is the time. When the kids were young we use to pull them out of school to go on trips. Now that they are older, they get behind in their studies if we pull them out. That leaves us only the weeks and months when everyone else travels, which is unfortunate because I don’t like crowds nor the higher costs of the high season.

July 20, 2007

I'm a Winner

We are back from a week in Park City, Utah. It was a delightful trip in that we were at a high enough elevation to avoid the wildfire smoke that is turning the blue skies of the Mountain West into a gray haze. The primary activity in Park City is testing the law of gravity. We conducted our own primary research on the matter by riding the alpine slide, the alpine coaster and the zip line. The empirical results of our tests are that objects, such as ourselves, fall/slide/zip down mountain slopes, often while screaming.

One of the more interesting letters in the pile of mail, magazines and newspapers we sorted through on our return was a letter from the State of Ohio offering me a one year free subscription for identity theft prevention and protection services. Never a good sign when the government offers you something for free. Turns out my name and social security number were on a computer back-up device (also known as a laptop) that was stolen last month from the unlocked car of a college intern working for the State. Now there’s an example of an effective privacy policy.

The State informs me it is unlikely that someone can access the data contained on the device without specialized knowledge and equipment. The State didn’t bother to mention how valuable such a device would be to those that have such specialized knowledge and equipment, and that if the thief had any brains he/she would sell the device to those with specialized knowledge and equipment.

The most intriguing thing about the incident is what one had to do to have their social security number and name included on the stolen device. According to this article by Forbes, individuals whose personal data was stolen fall into one or more of the following categories:

1. Taxpayers with uncashed state income tax refunds
2. Current and former state employees
3. Lottery winners who have yet to cash winning tickets
4. Welfare recipients
5. Vendors

Given I don’t and have not worked for the State, I always have to pay taxes and never get a refund, I’ve never been on welfare and I’m not a vendor, I can only conclude I’m a lottery winner who has yet to cash a winning ticket. This is my lucky day indeed. I will call the State hotline on Monday to find out what I won.

Terrain.org

Terrain.org: A Journal of the Built & Natural Environments is a "twice yearly online journal searching for [the] interface—the integration— among the built and natural environments, that might be called the soul of place." Simmons B. Buntin, the journal's Editor and Publisher, who I met through his fascinating blog, Riverfall was kind enough to invite me to contribute an article to the current issue. The article is called Kiva: Reducing Poverty and Building Sustainable Communities Through Microlending.

If you get a minute, I'd encourage you to check out not only my article but the other excellent contributions in this issue that all embrace the theme, Community Sustained.

July 13, 2007

Would You Smile in Your Mug Shot?

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A local college student was arrested here yesterday for stealing lottery tickets from the store where she worked. She cashed in $20 worth and now could spend up to five years in prison. Very sad indeed. I’d leave it at that except for one remarkable thing that caused me to pause. The woman smiled in her mug shot. Not the deranged smile of a twisted mind, but a beautifully confident smile, as if posing for a graduation photo.

It made me wonder whether smiling in a mug shot would be helpful during the judicial process. Mug shots are usually published with any newspaper story detailing the alleged crime, and I have to admit most people take lousy mug shots. They either sport an angry glare or look completely bewildered. But pulling off a grin in a mug shot is difficult. One runs the risk of appearing smug, as if taunting the wheels of justice.

This woman struck the right balance. Her look not only conveyed that she was friendly, but also made her look innocent of the crime. Clearly, she was already trying to win the jury’s sympathy.

July 12, 2007

What I'm Liking and Disliking Right Now

Liking:

1. Ron Carlson’s novel, Five Skies. I spent a week several years ago at a writers conference learning from Carlson. Not only is he a superb novelist and short story writer, but he is a master teacher. It has been a pleasure reading and studying this novel to see how he applies the principles he taught in class.

2. Juan Gabriel’s classic Mexican Ranchero CD recently released on iTunes Latino. I admit ranchera music is an acquired taste, but there is no better language than Spanish to belt out anguished lyrics such as these:

I am going to forget you,
Even if it cost me my life,
Even if it cost me weeping,
I swear to you I have to forget you.

3. The thought of leaving tomorrow for a week away with my family in Park City, Utah. Idaho is getting smoky, hot and dry. It will be nice to escape to the mountains.

4. Welcoming my son Bret home from Scout camp. This is a kid who doesn’t need The Dangerous Book for Boys. He already lives it.

Disliking:

1. Being told yesterday by a resident of my little Idaho town that we do things different here, and if I had grown up here I would have known that. Attitudes like that make me want to flee Idaho.

2. People such as the resident above who make a point of implying how much money they have and are spending. I have many wealthy clients and rich folks with class just don’t hold out their net worth for all to admire. Just as those who are poor don’t make a point of showing off their poverty. In fact, those with true wealth are usually too busy trying to relieve suffering and better the lives of the less fortunate to worry about telling others how much money they have.

July 7, 2007

The Road

I read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road this week. It is the saddest, most disturbing novel I have read in years. Haunting, yet poignant. Makes me want to hold my kids close.

June 29, 2007

RIP Immigration Reform

I wrote this a year ago. My opinion hasn't changed.

In 1986, I lived on the U.S. Mexican border ⎯ on the Mexican side. Occasionally at dusk I would walk along the Sonoran desert sand and stare at the invisible line that separated two disparate countries. Usually there were a dozen Mexicans in dark clothes, toting plastic jugs of water, waiting for nightfall so they could dash across that invisible line to find work. Their wives and children were miles away, most likely living in wooden shacks with tarpaper roofs, subsisting on tortillas, beans and weak broth. These fathers had left their families and endured a dangerous journey, a long separation so they might be able to buy a few chickens, some shoes for their kids, notebooks and pencils for school; things that were unaffordable with the handful of pesos they earned growing corn on their small plots of land.

Several generations ago, my family in Ireland, Germany and Holland made similarly dangerous journeys searching for better economics. Only in their case, they didn’t have to sneak in because America was more welcoming then.

Victor Hugo wrote the classic novel about Jean Valjean, an impoverished man who stole a loaf of bread and was relentlessly pursued by Javert, a self-righteous lawman who had lost his sense of compassion and mercy in the pursuit of justice. I can’t help but think both U.S. political parties are filled with Javerts. They demand fences along our southern border to keep immigrants out, as if by closing ourselves in, the world’s problems will go away.

I have returned to the desert border I used to walk along. Now there is a twenty foot steel fence. The flow of Mexicans continues. Physical hunger and the thirst for opportunity will not be thwarted by fences.

They say amnesty is a bad word. They demand we send working immigrants back to their homelands so they can enter our front door legally, otherwise we legitimize their criminal behavior. Yet this demand for justice ignores the fact the front door has been locked for years and when you are hungry and cold and you know there is someone inside who can lift your burden by providing work, you enter anyway you can.

They say immigrants should assimilate, but one can’t assimilate unless they are welcomed. Assimilation does not mean becoming invisible. Assimilation requires change on both sides, respecting and honoring cultural differences.

In this country there is a clear demand for immigrant workers. There is also a ready supply. Yet our current laws and fears distort the system, creating a black market in immigrant labor. Why not acknowledge the economic and social reality of the situation and establish an open system with clear guidelines and rules that allow guest workers to work legally, allow families to emigrate, and allow business to recruit hard workers and great minds from across the globe?

June 23, 2007

The 4-Hour Workweek

I just finished reading The 4-Hour Workweek: Escape 9-5, Live Anywhere and Join the New Rich by Timothy Ferriss. I find the title nauseating. This book is an excellent example of the hubris of someone who has had some short-term success and now deems the masses worthy of his step-by-step “system” of how we can be successful just like him. The book has all the platitudes and fillers of your standard self-help book. I only read it, hoping there might be some original thought or idea I hadn’t seen somewhere else. There wasn’t much.

It’s not that I disagree with the author’s thesis. I just found the presentation of it empty and over simplified ⎯ as if written by someone who only works 4-hours a week and consequently didn’t have the time or desire to really delve into the topic. In fact, in keeping with the book’s theme, I suspect much of the book was outsourced to other writers.

June 14, 2007

Borders

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Normandy Field

“How does an animal path in the jungle arise? Some animal may break through the undergrowth in order to get to a drinking-place. Other animals find it easiest to use the same track. Thus it may be widened and improved by use. It is not planned- it is an unintended consequence of the need for easy or swift movement. This is how a path is made, even by men - and how language and any other institutions which are useful may arise, and how they may owe their existence and development to their usefulness. They are not planned or intended, and there was perhaps no need for them before they came into existence. But they may create a new need or a new set of aims: the aim-structure of animals or men is not "given" but it develops, with the help of some kind of feedback mechanism, out of earlier aims, and out of results which were not aimed at. In this way, a whole new universe of possibilities or potentialities may arise: a world which is to a large extent autonomous.” - Karl Popper

I’ve been reading a lot of Karl Popper lately. A follow up to my Black Swan fest from last month. I’ve not studied much philosophy because most of it I just don’t get. It all seems very circular – maddeningly so as if written in some secret philosopher’s code that you need a PhD to comprehend. Even with Popper, who seems more straightforward than most, I only grasp about 25% of what he writes. Fortunately, he repeats himself; so slowly a number of his major themes sink in. “Sink in” probably isn’t the right word. It implies comprehension. Resonates is a better term. It’s as if there is something important in the words just beyond my grasp⎯yet close enough to make it worth plugging away to understand.

On another note, I found the article in last Sunday’s New York Times Magazine by Jason Deparle entitled “Should We Globalize Labor Too?” intriguing. He profiled Lant Pritchett’s proposal to allow impoverished countries to legally send guest workers to developed nations to work. In other words, allow these countries to export the one resource in which they have a competitive advantage – cheap labor. Critics can reel off a litany of reasons why this is a bad idea. On the other hand, consider Africa. Here is a continent where rich nations arbitrarily drew up the borders and named the countries. Often migratory tribal lands were cut in half. The Europeans then ruled the “new” nations with an iron fist for a century while extracting as much of the natural resources as they could and sending it back home. After Africans demanded independence, these unschooled citizens were expected to prosper in lands that had been stripped of wealth. Is it any wonder poverty, famine and genocide ensued? The sandbox was made too small for the number of people and all the best toys were taken away.

I don’t understand why we insist on keeping guest laborers out of our borders when there is clearly demand for their services. We hold borders to be too sacrosanct, as if they were God-given, when in reality they are arbitrary lines that often developed in the manner Popper alluded to in the above quote.

May 7, 2007

Missspellings

For those who want to increase their blog traffic via google search hits, I inadvertantly discovered the secret. Just creatively spell words. I'll have you know this blog is ranked second in Google for those who insist on spelling "Yellowstone Grizzlie" using the same rules I picked up at the Catholic grade school I attended as a kid.

Spelling rule number 65 is "i" before "e" especially when following "zzl."

May 6, 2007

The Black Swan

For the last week I’ve been absorbed in an exhilarating, but frightening book, "The Black Swan” by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. The book eloquently and systematically makes the case for why my chosen profession is based on a “great intellectual fraud.”

The fraud he writes of is the “bell curve”, and as it applies to modern finance the leap of faith we take that expected returns for asset classes can be neatly plotted around an average with a precise measure of variability (risk) denoted by the standard deviation. All the while we ignore the fat tails, or Black Swans as he calls them⎯unpredictable, rare and extreme events that not only skew the average but make the concept of average meaningless because the Black Swans change the game entirely. After the fact, we create narratives to explain why the extreme event took place so that we can watch out and protect ourselves from such unpleasantness in the future.

Unfortunately, the next Black Swan is usually something that wasn’t even on the radar. We don’t know what we don’t know.

Much of what Taleb writes I’ve learned the hard way over the past decade. I used to think certain investment managers and corporate leaders were smarter than everyone else, only to find that they too had no clue and were buffeted by the unexpected.

Now I manage money by refusing to put faith in experts, keeping costs low, maintaining extreme diversification in order to avoid company level Black Swans, and staying humble. It's called winning by not losing.

Yet what I find disturbing about the book is not just its ramification for investing, but the role “Black Swans” have played in my life to date and the significant impact they will have on my future. So often we look back and create a narrative for our lives. We selectively remember things while conveniently forgetting others. We attribute too much of our success to our own skill and not enough to the kindness of others or just to plain luck.

In my case, I have too much vested in my Plan A ⎯ my systematic vision of an early retirement in ten years in order to spend more time traveling and doing good. I need to focus more on Plan B and Plan C ⎯ the plans that recognize the existence of Black Swans and that the steady trajectory I have forecast for Plan A will not likely be as smooth and upward trending as I anticipate. In fact, Taleb would recommend throwing out plans entirely, since we have no ability to predict the future.

At this point, I have no conclusions. I plan to reread the book while in France next week.

April 22, 2007

The Farm Bill

If anyone has any doubt as to the far reaching impact of good legislation gone bad, just read Michael Pollon's essay in today's New York Times Magazine called You Are What You Grow.

For convience, you can find a PDF version below.

April 17, 2007

5 Blogs That Make Me Think

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Popeye was kind of enough to name this blog as one of the five that make him think. There is no cash or statue with the Thinking Blogger Award. Just the cute badge and the responsibility of naming 5 Blogs That Make Me Think.

1. Riverfall - Simmons is not only an accomplished poet, but his photos and tales of adventure in the desert Southwest are inspiring.
2. Dos Centavos - Written by Taiwanese expatriate living in Australia. DC's interests are incredibly diverse and her opinions expressed with such fevor it will make your head spin.
3. Self Taught Girl - More online journal then blog, but don't let that keep you away. Kate's prose is beautiful and her candor refreshing.
4. 'Tis Herself - Kell is a great example of living a life of joy and optimism despite the setbacks.
5. The Becker-Posner Blog - They only post once per week, and while I don't always agree with their opinions, generally they are spot on.

April 12, 2007

Real and Imaginary Friends

I have blogged for about two years now. When I started, I aspired to connect with hundreds if not thousands of readers who might find musings about my small life of interest. Afterall, this is the Internet so theoretically any post could be read by millions.

Two years in, my perspective has changed. I will never be an A list blogger. Not even a Z list. My readership is small. Most days my hits can be counted on two hands. There are about a dozen who subscribe to my RSS feed, and a half dozen that leave comments. It also happens to be the same handful of individuals whose blogs I comment on. And therein lies the great blogging paradox.

Here we have a communication medium that is completely open, free for anyone to peruse, yet at the same time it is extremely intimate. Other than my business associates, I don’t have many close “real life” friends ⎯true friends is what my daughter would call them. Perhaps only five or six who I check in with every few months. Most don’t live in Idaho. On the other hand, I have blogging friends, who because of the medium, I keep closer tabs on than my real life friends. When they don’t post for a while I wonder if they are okay. I joy in their successes and am saddened by their sorrows. I care for them.

Yet, in some ways I don’t know them at all. I’ve never seen them in person. Never heard them speak. Most I don’t even know their real names. They don’t share everything about their lives so I have filled in the gaps myself. My blogging friends are part real and part imaginary. It’s quite possible that if I met them in person and got to know them better we wouldn’t get along. Possible, but not likely.

I have another part real and part imaginary friend. We have been corresponding by mail for over a year. He is in his 24th year of a life sentence without parole at the Alabama State Prison. We exchange letters every three or four weeks. I have learned much from him about patience and hope. A while back he called me on the phone. His voice startled me. It wasn’t the voice I expected. My mind had ascribed a voice to his words on the page. A pleasant Midwestern voice. This man on the phone spoke with a Southern drawl. His real demeanor was piercing the life I had imagined.

I adapted. Now his written voice sounds more Southern, and I have less gaps to fill in. Just as there are less gaps to imagine for my blogging friends as they slowly reveal themselves month by month. That is what keeps me blogging and reading a few blogs. The thrill of the imaginary becoming real.

Street Music

I’m finishing up a quick overnight trip to San Francisco where I spoke at a conference. I like this town. It is of my favorite U.S. cities. I’d make a list of my favorites, but it would be pointless because I have too many. Besides, my favorites shift depending on my mood.

Last night I was serenaded for an hour by a street corner saxophone player. His song drifted up twenty nine floors to my hotel room, and it was as clear as if he was standing next to me. Street music is beautiful.


April 6, 2007

What Do You Do?

I have learned to dislike the above question since moving to Idaho. It is usually the first thing I'm asked after meeting someone new. While the question might appear innocent, it is not. The purpose in asking it is to categorize people. To rank them. Perhaps even to judge them.

I've come to this conclusion because rarely after telling someone my profession, do they ask a follow up question. It's as if once they know where I rank in their particular categorization scheme, they move on.

My standard response to the question is to tell people I'm a bum.

I try not to ask the question myself. While I might be curious what someone does, I'd rather know who they are, what they think, and what is their story?

I sit on our small Idaho town's Planning and Zoning Commission. The meetings are often boring, but it affords me the opportunity to stare at the audience and wonder who they are. One couple last night was particularly fascinating. They were in their seventies and had been married for so long they looked like each other. Even more interesting was their eyes and heads moved in tandem. They both would look in one direction then simutaneously shift their gaze in another as if connected by string. Clearly, they had spent many days working together at their particular vocation. I believe they were farmers. I would have loved to hear their stories.

April 5, 2007

Taxes

A big thick FedEx package arrived today from our accountant. I opened it with great trepidation. Gone are the days of two page tax forms. Now I spend four to six hours filling out the accountant's tax questionnaire, mail it in and then wait a few weeks for the accountant to send back a book telling me how big of check I need to write.

This year my federal tax return was sixty-five pages. It was undecipherable. Except for line spelling out how much I owe. Sadly, that was perfectly clear.

Do other countries have such a complicated tax system?

April 1, 2007

Stuff

A new family pulled up unexpectedly this afternoon in a large moving truck at one of the vacant houses down the street. The kids and I went to help unload. Professional movers make a skimpy living in Idaho because everyone moves themselves. Just last Thursday, we loaded a different neighbor’s truck for their move to Utah.

It took us ninety minutes to unload the boxes and furniture from the 25 foot truck and 20 foot trailer. It was packed tightly from floor to ceiling. The family hadn’t closed on the house yet, so everything was stacked in the three car garage. When we were done, there was barely any room in the garage to walk. Just two narrow pathways that threaded between bookcases, desks, mattresses and dozens of boxes.

Americans, including myself, own too much stuff. Which is why whenever I finish helping someone move, I return home and start giving things away.

We used to have a coffee table book at our company headquarters with photographs of families throughout the world standing in front of their houses with all of their things spread out on the front lawn. The contrast between nationalities was stunning. I don’t need to tell you which nationality had the most things.

My goal is if they took a similar picture of my things that it wouldn’t take a two page spread.

March 30, 2007

The Poisonwood Bible

There have been few novels in my life that after finishing them I could say they changed me. Changed the way I looked at a subject, a place or a people. Given me a perspective I never would have had had I not read the book. Great characters are more effective teachers than any lecture, essay or non-fiction narrative will ever be. Great characters don’t preach. They teach by example, by living. This is the ultimate irony. How can fictional characters live? Yet they do. Slowly as you read a well written novel, the characters invade your consciousness. They become real. Unforgettable.

The only characters more alive than the ones you read in a good book are the ones you write in your own stories. Those characters are your children.

I just finished Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible. This book is just beautiful. It is powerful. I read The Fate of Africa earlier this year. In that book, I learned the sad history of modern Africa, but in the Poisonwood Bible I lived Africa, breathed it in and was changed.

Orleanna Price, one of the novel’s characters, said, “Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know.”

March 22, 2007

The Next 4 Billion

According to this study just released by the IFC, the private sector arm of the World Bank Group, and World Resources Institute, 4 billion people who live in poverty (i.e. per capita income of less than $3,000) have a collective purchasing power of $5 trillion. The study calls these 4 billion people, 60% of the world’s population, the Base of the Pyramid (BOP). The next pyramid layer is the 1.4 billion people with per capita income between $3,000 and $20,000. If you care to see where you rank in the pyramid check out the Global Rich List and how it is calculated.

One of the challenges of our time is to find ways to incorporate this 4 billion into the global marketplace without destroying the environment. One can only look at China’s pollution woes to see the downside of non-sustainable poverty reduction. 34% of children in China have blood-lead levels that exceed the World Health Organization limit according to a study by researchers at the Peking University Health Science Center as mentioned in this Wall Street Journal article.

The World Bank study states, “Most people in the BOP lack good access to markets to sell their labor, handicrafts or crops and have no choice but to sell to a local employer or to middlemen who exploit them.” They often pay higher prices for basic goods and services and the quality is less.

Reducing poverty will require a creative, market-based approach. One that focuses more on “enabling opportunity and less in terms of aid.” One that address market failures and impediments so that “BOP households can find their own route out of poverty.”

Many of the market-based solutions will be what Clayton Christensen calls “catalytic innovations - simpler, good enough solutions aimed at underserved groups,” such as the micro-irrigation technologies developed by KickStart.

March 17, 2007

Collections

As a child I collected postage stamps. They sit in a binder on my bookshelf. As a teenager I collected beer cans. The collection lies decaying somewhere in the Rumpke landfill. As an adult I collect domain names. They sit, unused for the most part, in cyberspace. I don’t register the names hoping to resell them and make a few bucks. I’m not a cybersquatter. Collecting domain names is a way to dream. The names represent business endeavors not yet realized, charity projects still incubating and nonsensical web addresses that seemed to make sense at the time I registered them.

Occasionally, I let the names expire, releasing them back into the Internet wilderness. For the most part, though, I dutifully renew the names each year and await the day when I’ll launch the sites and fulfill some dreams.

March 4, 2007

Life Expectancy

I imported United Nations world population statistics into DabbleDB, an online database application I use. I thought this table was interesting as a follow up to my post on Zimbabwe from the other day.

While government can't ensure a long life, corruption and ineffective leadership sure can lower the averages.

March 2, 2007

The Case of the Missing Slips

Breanna and I went shopping this afternoon at the local mall. Our goal was to find a yellow dress for Breanna to wear to her cousin’s wedding reception tomorrow. I don’t mind shopping but I prefer doing it in a bigger city where I have more than three department stores from which to choose. Shopping in Idaho is a little like gambling, which is not something I enjoy, even though I’m off to Las Vegas on Sunday. Here’s a replay of our trip:

Department store number one (Dillard’s) has no yellow girls dresses. Breanna is tall for her age so I try the juniors section where we find one yellow dress in the smallest size available. No go. It makes Breanna look too grown up. She needs a girl dress.

Department store number two (Macy’s). No yellow dresses.

Department store number three (JC Penney’s). Jackpot. Three styles of yellow dresses. We find the perfect fit and then go looking for a slip since the dress fabric is sheer.

We can’t find any.

I approach the saleswoman who is ringing up a customer’s purchase from behind the counter. “Where can we find girls slips?”

“They’ve been recalled,” says the saleswoman.

“Recalled?” I said, thinking I hadn’t heard right.

“Yes, recalled.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. There are no slips in the entire mall.” She begins to help another customer.

Breanna looks up at me. “What does recalled mean?”

“It’s when a company takes all their merchandise back because there’s something wrong with it, like if a toy breaks easily and becomes a safety hazard.”

“But what could be dangerous about slips?” Breanna turns to a different saleswoman and explains the predicament.

This attendant also has no idea what is wrong with the slips, but confirms they are not available. “Perhaps you can get them online,” she offers.

A woman behind us, overhearing our conversation, expresses her dismay. She’s been to numerous stores in the city looking for slips and was told JC Penney carried them.

A different woman whispers to me that she heard there were some at Wal-Mart. She acts as if were trying to buy contraband. I being to wonder if rebellious teenagers have found some drug related use for slips, leading them to be pulled from the shelves.

After checking at Target, who no longer sells girls slips according to the saleswoman, we try Wal-Mart. I ask one saleslady and she seems quite confident they have girls slips somewhere among the four million items stocked at the superstore. She consults the girls department supervisor, who says they haven’t had slips in stock since Christmas. She calls after us that girls don’t wear slips anymore. We follow the first sales lady to the women’s department. We find a 24 inch half slip, which I know will be too long for Breanna’s dress. I’ll have to cut it down and figure out how to hold it up for the wedding tomorrow.

Does anyone know where all the girls slips have gone?

February 27, 2007

Home School

LaPriel escaped with Bret to Sedona, Arizona this week. Since Breanna is being hometaught for a few months, that leaves me to be headmaster.

I'm a grueling instructor. Today we did art. Rigorous art.

This evening I was feeling so good about my teaching abilities I insisted Camden watch this video with me. Cam just turned 15 in November, which in Idaho means he can get his driver's license. In fact, he's been driving since he was 14 and a half. I don't know why they let kids begin driving at such an early age. Perhaps so they can quit school and start working on the farm sooner.

After watching this video, I feel better about the whole thing. Now we will just send him out driving wearing the delightful British safety outfits discussed in the video.

February 24, 2007

Zimbabwe

I like to think I’m a reasonably informed person, but I must admit I hadn't given much thought to Zimbabwe until today.

Here are a few facts:

1. The country has been independent since 1980, if independence is defined as being free of colonial rule. During its “independence” period Zimbabwe has been ruthlessly ruled by one man, Robert Mugabe, who like many African dictators that promised democracy at the beginning of their tenure has found it easier to maintain power through force and patronage.
2. Like most paranoid leaders after they and their cronies have plundered the national wealth for personal gain and pushed their countries to near collapse, Mugabe points a finger of blame at everyone but himself.
3. A massive land redistribution scheme has essentially halted all agricultural and economic production. Inflation now runs at 1600% per year. Unemployment is at 80%. GDP real growth rate is -4.5%.
4. 1.6 million of the nation’s 6 million children are orphans, which is the highest ratio in the world.
5. Life expectancy is 39 years.
6. 1.8 million inhabitants out of a population of 12.2 million are infected with HIV/AIDS.

It is appalling what one man can inflict upon so many people. Yet the pattern isn’t unique. Zimbabwe is not currently in the media spotlight, but at the present pace of disintegration that will quickly change.

Four Fascinating Things

1. Susan Orlean’s profile of origami artist Robert J. Lang in this week’s New Yorker. I never knew origami creations could be so intricate.

2. This video of a time-lapse trip through the Panama Canal. I discovered it using StumbleUpon.

3. Research by Ap Dijksterhuis on effective decision making highlighted in the February 2007 issue of Harvard Business Review. His research conclusion was to “Use your conscious mind to acquire all the information you need for making a decision - but don't try to analyze the information. Instead, go on a holiday while your unconscious mind digests it for a day or two. Whatever your intuition then tells you is almost certainly going to be your best choice. This seems to expand the conclusions of Malcom Gladwell’s popular book, “Blink”.

4. These photographs of a light bulbs burning out.


February 23, 2007

What is Hope?

The environmentalist Derrick Jenson wrote an essay in the May/June 2006 issue of Orion magazine entitled Beyond Hope.

He described hope as “a longing for a future condition over which you have no agency….it means you are essentially powerless.”

“When we realize the degree of agency we actually do have, we no longer have to "hope" at all. We simply do the work. We make sure salmon survive. We make sure prairie dogs survive. We do whatever it takes. When we stop hoping for external assistance, when we stop hoping that the awful situation we're in will somehow resolve itself, when we stop hoping the situation will somehow not get worse, then we are finally free–truly free–to honestly start working to resolve it. I would say when hope dies, action begins.”

His definition implies hope is just a longing and not a particularly useful quality.

Contrast this negative view of hope with a more positive definition put forth by Harry Hutson and Barbara Perry in their book Putting Hope to Work. They state, “Hope is an orientation to a positive future that engages our heads, hearts and hands.” In the February 2007 Harvard Business Review, they describe five elements that must be present for hope to exist:

1. Possibility
2. Agency
3. Worth
4. Openness
5. Connection

Jenson believes hope is bereft of agency while Hutson and Perry believe hope cannot exist without agency.

I favor the latter definition. True hopelessness is not having choices.

February 9, 2007

Not Much To Say

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Nameless Yucatecan Road

I’ve sat down for three days in a row to update this blog, and I just don’t have anything to write. Life is calm. The weather has warmed so the kids have been outside floating hand made boats in the snowmelt that streams down from the canyon above our house. No more cross country skiing until it cools and snows again.

Maggie our puppy is acclimating to our family. She hits the paper 90% of the time and sleeps through most of the night. She’s a happy little creature, and the best part is she doesn’t bark.

The most interesting thing I’m currently reading is Martin Meredith’s The Fate of Africa. I just shake my head in disbelief as I read. So many have suffered because of the corruption and shortsightedness of a few inept leaders.

I’ve been studying French using Rosetta Stone software to prepare for my trip to Paris in May with my daughter Breanna. Their philosophy is to teach languages in the natural way children learn to speak, through listening and sight as opposed to a bunch of grammar rules. Ten weeks into the course I am confident I will be able to say if need be, “The boy jumps.” I am confident my pronunciation is correct because the analyst that works for me is a Quebec native so when I periodically interrupt our conversations by mentioning in French the boy is jumping again, she indeed understands.

The photo above and the one below are two of my favorites from our recent trip to Mexico. There is something magical about rock walls.

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Chunchucmil, Yucatan


January 27, 2007

Poverty

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There’s been something bothering me ever since our return from Mexico. Shortly after getting settled in my office, I searched online for job listings in the local Merida, Yucatan newspaper. I was curious what an educated Mexican with a college degree is paid. The average starting salary in Merida for an experienced professional, such as an accountant, is $8,000 to $12,000 per year. An administrative assistant is paid about $4,000 per year. There were many jobs in the paper that paid much less. The minimum daily wage in the Yucatan is $4.32 USD per day. 45% of Yucatecan workers make less than $8.60 USD per day (roughly $2,700 per year). 87% of the workers make less than $22 per day ($6,700 per year).

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One might argue that the cost of living is lower in Mexico than in the United States, but it depends on what lifestyle we are trying to cost. Mexico’s per capita income is $6,800 compared to $35,000 in the United States. That doesn’t mean things in Mexico cost 80% less than the United States. In fact, they cost about the same. We visited numerous stores in Mexico from a Sam’s Club in Campeche to the central market in Merida to little corner stores in remote villages. After adjusting for the exchange rate, I found little difference in prices.

Gasoline in Mexico costs $2.23 USD per gallon, not much cheaper than gas in the U.S., even though much of our oil comes from Mexico. Some basic food staples are less than the U.S., often because they are subsidized, but the difference is marginal.

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So how does the average Mexican family survive? They live much simpler lives than Americans. Houses are tiny, very few own cars, prepackaged foods are a luxury, clothes are worn until threadbare and then patched and patched again.

Yet by world poverty measures Mexico is relatively well off. It ranks 81st globally in per capita gross national income. There are 127 countries ranked lower, the poorest of which have per capita income more than 90% lower than Mexico.

Countries are poor for many reasons, but the primary one is insufficient employment and productivity growth, which can be the result of corruption, lack of investment in infrastructure and education, and an excessive bureaucracy that stifles innovation. Bottom line is Mexico and other poor countries have too few jobs for their populace. These macro issues can take generations to solve. In the meantime, is it any wonder why Mexicans are willing to take the risk to come to the United States to find work?

The question I ask myself is am I doing enough to relieve suffering and provide equality of opportunity for the poor. Each of us must answer that for ourselves.

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Side Note: The above pictures were taken at the Mayan ruins of Uxmal. Residents of local villages were employed patching the stonework at the ruins. What I found amazing about this is in my numerous trips to Mexico I have never seen women working side by side with men. Usually work like this was reserved exclusively for men. It is a welcome change.

January 17, 2007

Obama

It's a little early to be thinking about 2008, but from everything I've read and heard, I believe Barack Obama might offer a more civilized, less vindictive type of politics. We'll see.

January 13, 2007

Say Hello to Maggie

maggie.jpg

I wrote previously about our family debates on whether to get a new dog. The debate is settled, and our new Shih Tzu puppy comes home in a few weeks. I'm excited, but aprehensive. Sort of like having kids all over again.

December 10, 2006