Entries from February 2008 ↓

“I am, I fully grant, a phenomenon, but not because of any speed in composition,” he wrote in The New York Times Book Review in 1986. “I asked myself the other day, ‘Who else, on so many issues, has been so right so much of the time?’ I couldn’t think of anyone.”

William F. Buckley was incredibly fun to hear and watch. Read what The New York Times has to say here.

Not this kind of driven. Funny, but wrong definition of “being driven.”

Determination would be a good synonym for “driven.”

Sloping toward middle age (and past) has affected my drive. I don’t know that it’s lessened it, but it has changed it. I’m still very driven - determined - to accomplish some things. Sure, some things I aspired to accomplish as a younger man are gone by the wayside. They just don’t matter to me now.

For example, I’m less driven by money than I once was. I’m not rich. I am comfortable. I appreciate the role of money in a person’s life - especially in my own. But, more money isn’t going to do anything positive for me. My happiness is not determined by money. It never has been, but in my younger days I didn’t fully understand that.

I’m less driven by position than I once was. There was a time when a title at work may have meant something to me. No more. I still want to be in a leadership position, but as I review my professional life - I’ve spent most of it in positions of leadership. The determination to make a difference, whether you’re in charge or not, has never left me.

And for me - that’s the real rub. To make a positive difference! But I’m meandering. The real issue is, “How driven are you?” How driven are people and what is it that creates that drive?

Last night I watched a story on Real Sports about Tennessee women’s basketball coaching legend Pat Summitt. She has accomplished more than any other women’s basketball coach. Ever. In 34 years of coaching at Tennessee she has won the national title seven times, including last season. Currently, her team is ranked number 1 in the nation. She’s chasing that elusive back-to-back national championship this season. Pat Summitt is by all accounts a very driven person.

Based on the story reported on Real Sports coach Summit was driven by a demanding father. The only daughter among sons - her father, a Tennessee farmer, treated her like one of the boys. His demands were always high. His discipline strict. She said he only had two volume levels when he spoke: off or screaming.

Intensity is a word commonly used to describe coach Summit. It definitely described her father. She recounted going off to college and wanting to hug her dad - something she had never done. She hugged her mom and just told her dad that she’d see him later. She did put her hand on his shoulder. When she was 43 years old she was coaching in her first national title game. Her father was going to be in attendance. She prayed that night that she might win the title and hug her father. It seems the drive to win the title was merely a means to an end. A hug from dad. Her team won the title, her first. She embraced her dad for the first time. Age 43.

She commented that it was easier to embrace him after that. She said she’d tell him she loved him. But she commented that he never said it back. A tough man of the field never did learn how to tell his daughter that he loved her. She said she knew he did though. He died a few years ago. She never heard him say, “I love you.”

I cannot imagine it. Nor can I imagine the drive such a life created in Pat Summit. Clearly, it created in her a burning fire to accomplish great things. Perhaps other lives of accomplishment have similar driving forces. Would Pat Summit be the Pat Summit we know if her father had behaved differently toward her? What if he had been a man of outward displays of affection for his family? What if he’d been a man who knew a volume lower than yelling?

We’ll never know the answer. Pat Summit, like you and me, is the product of her up-bringing and her own self-will. She is the sum total of her life experiences. So are we all.

Later last night I watched a DVD documentary entitled, “The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters.”

It’s the story of one man’s quest to set the record score for the old-school arcade game, Donkey Kong - presumably the toughest game to conquer. Steve Wiebe is a junior high school math and science teacher who has struggled throughout life. Sadly, he’s been derailed time and time again. He seems to be chasing the ever elusive potential that is his life. He’s married with kids, a nice career and loyal friends. But something inside Steve drives him to continue to chase happiness because he’s lived a life of pushing boulders up hills. Nothing has come easy for Steve. It’s a funny, but nice story of his chase for the world’s record Donkey Kong score.

His drive is generated to finish something, be somebody and do something unique. He’s looking for whatever he think defines “success.” He’s a nice guy. He’s not intense. He’s not obnoxious. He’s just a good guy looking to accomplish something.

We’ve all got a story to tell. We’ve all got a drive toward something. Even a drive to do nothing is a drive. I’ve known people who declared they had no aspirations, no hopes, no dreams and no desires. I’m fairly certain that among sane folks, that’s impossible.

What sacrifices are you willing to make to accomplish something?

Pat Summit has spent years playing and coaching basketball. Thirty four years at Tennessee has resulted in reaching the mountain top (pun intended) 7 times. She’ll turn 55 this year. She has spent her entire life driven by a father who could not or would not express his approval or love.

Steve Wiebe is a 38-year-old teacher, husband, father and competitive gamer who holds the world record score for Donkey Kong. He spent years playing that specific game, but he plays drums, piano and draws. He’s not a failure, but he has viewed himself that way most of his life it seems. Driven to satisfy his own quest for self-approval Steve finally set the record.

Sacrifice is an enormous part of Pat and Steve’s story. Both gave up things in order to accomplish their goal. Both suffered hardships. Both faced challenges unknown to most who viewed their lives. Family and friends saw their torment, desire and passion.

What do people see in your life? What are you willing to give up so you can reach some goal?

The world is full of many impressive people who willingly go to great lengths to reach a goal. While a high score on Donkey Kong may seem a futile goal to most of us, for Steve Wiebe it was merely a symbol I suspect for success at life in general. And it was also a quest for fairness. Watch the DVD and you’ll understand. And coach Summitt isn’t unlike many who clamor for parental approval or love.

What drives people? It’s not always a succinct easy answer. It’s as complex as any single life.

How driven are people? Again, it varies. Some are driven with such single-minded purpose that nothing deters them. Others begin to chase a quest, then are soon turned toward a different quest. Many start strong, but never finish. Why?

As usual - I have more questions than answers. But this I do know. In the end, we all do what we want. Some of us just want it more I guess. Bill Clinton may have been onto something. The challenge is to find out what “it” is.

Most days I feel like those camels. Just riding around clueless about where I’m headed.

And believe it works.

Today, I’ve witnessed a boss who is on a major rampage to find who is guilty. You know the type. The problem or solution is much less crucial than fixing blame. The irony of this specific campaign by this specific boss is that there is a honest explanation - often that’s the case. From where I sit, nobody is really to blame.

A technical issue is involved. A piece of technical gear doesn’t work. Paperwork is produced to document the problem. Technicians are called. Murphy’s Law kicks in - “no problem found.” Technicians leave. The gear is put back in line. Problem: it still doesn’t work! Now it’s taken back offline and technicians are called once more.

Boss begins to pitch a fit and wants to how “this can happen?” Well, it’s pretty easy actually. Maybe he’s a moron, unable to sort through the realities of such problems. Maybe he’s never experienced inept service calls before. Maybe he’s never had Murphy’s Law strike him when he took an ailing car into the shop - only to realize that the car is making a fool of him because it’s behaving perfectly.

Maybe he’s just a jerk who follows the formula so many others follow. He’ll beat on people and beat on people until they get better. Sadly, they never do - and he continues to be depressed because all the people who surround him cause him so much pain. Were it not for all these people, his life would be incredible. He suffers the rest of us - who, by and large, earn him whatever compensation he gets.

This month I’m amazed - more often than normal - that there are so many bosses who fail to understand how to treat people, how to make improvements and how to make their own lives better by making the lives of others better - not miserable.

So, again I utter the phrase of many working men and women: “Die, you gravy sucking pig!”

Bob Sutton has some advice here.

“The Office” is funny - unless you really work for a jerk. Being the boss has privileges. Is one them the ability to behave any way you’d like without accountability?

The short answer is, “Yes!” Of course the boss can talk back, curse, verbally blast, pitch a fit, or behave in ways nobody else can. And get by with it. Who’s going to stop him?

The boss can march you outside and thrash you with insults. He can belittle your attire, your family heritage and your skills. Or anything else he wants. While you must quietly withstand it. Or make matters worse (usually) by defending yourself. Insubordination is a serious offense. Much worse than any damage the miserable boss might inflict on you. Just ask your HR professional.

Few things are off-limits for bosses when it comes to behavior. I’m talking real-world here. Sexual harassment - inappropriate physical contact - is off limits. Short of those infractions, you’re fairly powerless to defend yourself unless you have money, connections or both. And unless you have another job already lined up.

I’ve worked for some good bosses, but a closer examination of the men and women I’ve worked for reveals what I already knew to be true - most were pathetic.

Much of what I’ve learned - I learned by seeing how not to manage, lead or behave. The power of the negative example of poor bosses grossly overshadows the power of good bosses I may have had. That’s just my experience.

It’s amazing how much you learn by seeing somebody behave poorly. I suspect that people either follow in those footsteps or they’re repulsed by it and they go in the opposite direction. Abusive fathers likely raise future abusive fathers - or fathers who are stellar, refusing to behave as their fathers did.

Every bad boss I’ve had failed to understand the full impact of their behavior on the organization. Each was self-serving. Each was more interested in their ego than results. Each was overly confident that they could do every job better than those who did each job. None believed that people wanted to do good work. All were cynical about the innate goodness or ability of people to do good work. All were miserable people. And all made others miserable.

When you’re crawling around at ground level with the rest of the troops it’s easy to understand the impact of a jerk boss. The boss, flying high above mere mortals, is clueless. Convinced the organization would cease without him he presses on in tyranny.

Throughout my career I’ve listened, observed and learned. Learned how leadership works by observing how it does not work. Learned that fear, coercion, ridicule and sarcasm aren’t wonderful traits of accomplished leaders. Learned that some men and women are never going to be displaced simply because they’re jerks. And learned that you can never change a jerk. You adapt, cope or quit.

Sadly, negative examples can result in perpetuating more miserable bosses. Some will naturally go in the opposite direction, but others will assume that being a jerk is how bosses are supposed to behave. And they’ll keep the misery alive by becoming bosses themselves. They’ll kill spirits. They’ll destroy productive work lives. And sometimes personal lives, too. The wreckage they’ll leave behind is incalculable. Like the mighty cockroach, the bad boss will live on - and on - and on. Undeterred by anything, or anybody.

And in the end. The bad boss, like the good boss - will die. Take solace knowing the miserable boss will die miserable. Likely surrounded by people who will love to see him go. The weenie roasts are scheduled within moments of hearing of the death of a miserable boss. People have all the ingredients for s’mores in their desks. Ready for launch - or lunch.

The miserable boss will die ignorant of the damage he did. It’s the ultimate moment of stupidity. To die never having known how pathetic he really was. Poetic justice. At last. He wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. And the rest of us know it. Ironic, huh?

Your goal in working for a negative boss - a miserable person - is to either
(a) adapt,
(b) cope (a form of adaptation I guess),
(c) quit or
(d) outlive the miserable beggar!

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to reality is strictly coincidental. Those who hope for the death of their miserable boss should be ashamed. And work out, eat right and take good care of themselves so they can insure to outlive their miserable boss. And behave in ways that might cause their fictional boss’s blood pressure to be elevated hence hastening a visit from the Grim Reaper. Live long and prosper.

On 7/5/05 this was posted on leathernecks.com, a Marine Corp community for USMC veterans:

Department of the Navy Announces the Death of Retired Vice Adm. James B. Stockdale

Retired Navy Vice Adm. James B. Stockdale, Medal of Honor recipient, former Viet Nam prisoner of war (POW), naval aviator and test pilot, academic, and American hero died today, July 5, 2005, at his home in Coronado, Calif. He was 81 years old and had been battling Alzheimer’s disease.

Born Dec. 23, 1923 in Abingdon, Ill., and a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy Class of 1947, he is best remembered for his extraordinary leadership as the senior naval officer held in captivity during the Vietnam War. As commanding officer of Carrier Air Group Sixteen flying from the aircraft carrier the USS Oriskany, he was shot down while leading a mission Sept. 9, 1965.

During his 7½-year imprisonment, he was tortured numerous times, forced to wear vise-like heavy leg irons for two years and spent four years in solitary confinement. While imprisoned, he organized the prisoner culture in defiance of regulations forbidding prisoner communication and improvised a cohesive set of rules governing prisoner behavior. Codified in the acronym, BACK U.S. (Unity over Self), these rules gave prisoners a sense of hope, which many credited with giving them the strength to endure their ordeal.

Upon his release in 1973, Stockdale’s extraordinary heroism became widely known and he was awarded the Medal of Honor in 1976. A portion of his citation reads:

“Stockdale…deliberately inflicted a near mortal wound to his person in order to convince his captors of his willingness to give up his life rather than capitulate. He was subsequently discovered and revived by the North Vietnamese who, convinced of his indomitable spirit, abated their employment of excessive harassment and torture of all prisoners of war.”

“Vice Adm. Jim Stockdale’s legendary leadership and heroic service to the cause of freedom has been an inspiration to our nation,” said Secretary of the Navy Gordon England. “His courage and life stand as timeless examples of the power of faith and the strength of the human spirit. Our thoughts are with his devoted family. America and our Navy are eternally grateful and will always remember him.”

Upon his retirement from naval service, the secretary of the Navy established the Vice Admiral Stockdale Award for Inspirational Leadership presented annually in both Pacific and Atlantic Fleets. Stockdale held 26 combat awards including two Distinguished Flying Crosses, three Distinguished Service Medals, two Purple Hearts and four Silver Star Medals. He is a member of the Navy’s Carrier Hall of Fame, The National Aviation Hall of Fame and an Honorary Fellow of the Society of Experimental Test Pilots. He held 11 honorary doctoral degrees.

“Our Navy is saddened by the loss of Vice Adm. James B. Stockdale, a giant among heroes and a patriarch of ethical leadership,” said Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Vern Clark. “Adm. Stockdale challenged the human limits of moral courage, physical endurance and intellectual bravery, emerging victorious as a legendary beacon for all to follow. Our thoughts and prayers are with Sybil, his devoted partner in love and life, and the rest of the Stockdale family.”

Stockdale will be honored at a memorial service on board the USS Ronald Reagan in his hometown of Coronado, Calif. The service will take place Saturday, July 16. He will be buried with full honors at the U.S. Naval Academy Saturday, July 23. He is survived by his beloved wife Sybil of Coronado, Calif., and his four sons: James of Beaver, Pa.; Sidney of Albuquerque, N.M.; Stanford of Denver, Colo.; Taylor of Claremont, Calif.; and eight grandchildren.

Stockdale’s biography and additional photos are located on the following Web site: http://www.admiralstockdale.com .

Jim Collins wrote a business book, “Good to Great.” In it he interviewed Admiral Stockdale about his POW experience. Collins called the man’s philosophy the Stockdale Paradox: “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end — which you can never afford to lose — with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”

Sadly, this picture more depicts the public notion of the man more than the other photos. During the vice-presidential candidate debates he stumbled and appeared quite stupid. He wasn’t stupid. But with his hearing aid turned off he remarked during one debate, “Who am I? And why am I here?” From there his legacy - among those who didn’t know better - grew into a Saturday Night Live skit and water cooler jokes. He was perceived as the dunce of dunces. Of course, he was not a dunce at all. But few knew. Presidential politics was hard at work again - creating notions that may not be honest or correct.

That is why I bring up James Stockdale today. He died almost 3 years ago and still few realize the history of the Admiral. This election year is full of similar perceptions. I don’t claim to know what’s right. Or what is true. And I’m not politically motivated. I do however know - and better understand (thanks to what happened to Admiral Stockdale) - that what we see and hear is not always true or correct. Indeed, during Presidential elections (and all the campaigning) - things are not always as they appear. People aren’t always as they seem.

I can. I will.

I think I can. In fact, I plan on trying. I feel like the driver of this bulldozer. I feel like I’m riding on a pile of too much crap. Too much. Way too much.

I don’t need a bulldozer. It just feels that way. I’m not a possession freak. But like most people I just have too much stuff - all kinds of stuff. Stuff I don’t use, need or even want.

An application of the 4-W’s and 1-H (who, what when, where, how) makes the process logical, but still overwhelming to consider.

Who? Me. I don’t want anybody else deciding what goes and what stays.

What? Getting rid of half of everything I own. Everything.

When? Sometime in May. Why May? I have my reasons. Besides, May seems Spring-like and it’s a perfect time to turn over a new leaf. Also, the weather should be more accommodating.

Where? My house. My garage. My yard. My bedroom. My closet. My attic. (The proper pronoun is really “our.”)

How? Here’s the rub. It’s been easy to figure out up to this point. But I have a few ideas.

Yes, I know how every organization expert tells you to create different piles or areas. I know I’ll probably follow that advice and build a pile of stuff to keep, a pile of stuff to sell, a pile of stuff to toss (either give it away or throw it away). But there’s so much more needed to figure out how.

Let me take two categories that represent a large portion of “everything I own” - books and CD’s.

I don’t know how many books I own. Lots. A close look reveals that most aren’t worth keeping, but I can’t bring myself to throw away books. Mental health experts would likely be baffled at my inability to toss out even bad books. I love books. Yes, I love words - but I love books! I like to be surrounded by books. I’m weird. What can I tell you?

But here’s my plan for culling my library. I’m having a wall of built-in bookcases constructed in a new home office (currently in the planning stage). I plan to calculate how many books it will comfortably hold (that excludes jamming, cramming and having the shelves overloaded). In addition, I have a 2-sided library cart that will hold about 150 books or so (I’m guessing - depending on the size of books obviously). That is my revised book limit. Never before have I had a limit. As a result I have books piled in this corner, that corner, on that bookcase, in this other bookcase and in that chair. I am swimming in books. Even these things I love so much are drowning me. It’s too much!

So, I’ll place the books I value the most in my bookshelves and on my library cart. And I’ll get rid of all the rest. Currently, I’m planning to take all the business books I’ll part with (a large percentage of the books are business related) to my office where I’ll make them available to anybody at work who wishes to borrow them.

I’ll sell the rest online or donate them. And whenever I add a new book, I’ll have to decide which one must go. The size of my library will not grow. I won’t allow it. I’ll just keep improving the quality of the library by having current and top quality books.

I’m fully convinced I can do this. And if I can hurdle this challenge, the rest should be easy because books are among the most valuable physical possessions I own.

CD’s present their own challenge. Sound versus words. Words once read rarely get re-read. Not so with music. That makes the CD library more challenging than books. Thankfully, CD’s don’t require as much space. So my plan is not to get rid of CD’s, but to drastically compress the space they currently occupy in my life. Two full-size bookcases will give way to about six large notebooks with sleeves that hold CD’s. I’ll go from about 12 shelves to 1 shelf! That’s cutting more than 50% - more like 90%!

So, I’ll toss all those jewel boxes that take up so much space. And I’ll hang onto the liner notes. The challenge with CD’s are those that come in cardboard cases where the liner notes are part of the case. Do I cut out what I want and keep it? Or do I just keep the CD and forget the liner notes? I’m planning to make every effort to keep all the liner notes possible. We’ll see how it goes.

The other challenge with these notebooks is how do you know how many empty spaces to leave and where to leave them? If, like me, you plan to alphabetize the collection - the notebooks aren’t as easy to manage as putting the jewel boxes on a shelf. Buy a new CD and you simply insert it where it belongs. Not so with a notebook. I have no answer. But I’m still determined to go the notebook route. It just makes too much sense space-wise.

Papers, notes, keepsakes, odds ‘n ends - and all that other crap that junks up our lives. I’ll bet I’ve got enough pens to fill the aisle at Office Depot. I’ve got enough notebooks to choke a whale. I have enough paper to build a paper mache ship. Culling all that won’t be emotionally difficult, but it will demand the most work. Physically, it’ll require going through every stinking piece of it to decide what to keep and what to pitch.

Experts tell us to toss out anything we’ve not used or looked at within a certain period of time (like the last 12 months). Well, that’s easier said than done because I’ve got notes I wrote a hundred years ago that might be comical, if not incriminating. My family may want to go through my stuff when I die - and see just how brilliant I really was.

Which brings me to a driving force behind this effort to declutter - death. My own. Do I really want people going through my stuff? No. I need to do some major-league editing first. I’d better do it now and then maintain the habit - or I run the risk of having my family run across things that might embarrass me. It haunts me.

What if they see all the smarmy notes I’ve written about people? What if they read all those notebooks that revealed my inner thoughts during times when I wasn’t mentally stable? What if they learn that I’m really not Superman? No. That’s not acceptable. I must protect myself - and them - from learning things that would cause all of us pain. Destroy our notions. Disappoint us.

Maybe half of everything I own isn’t enough. Maybe I’ll have to get rid of more. Maybe I will need that bulldozer after all.