Sometimes fragments and germs of ideas are bounced around in several different ways before they truly come together. When they do finally come together, it can be downright magical. It all started with the simple notion that I am a writer and I love genealogy. Once those two things became known, a cousin suggested I write about the history of the family business on my Mom’s side of the family. That idea has been kicking around for a while, I am far from ready to go there for a whole host of reasons, but it was something important, an idea. By the way, if you are reading this L., I haven’t completely given up on that idea.
Fast forward a couple of years and all of a sudden my parents and siblings are aware of my blog. Not only are they aware of my writing, they actually think I am a good writer. No bias there, right? Here’s the thing: I think the biggest praise was from my Dad. He is not the type to give praise for just anything, whether or not you are his child. The fact that he is even aware of my writing is huge. But I digress.
So, as my Mom is boosting my ego by telling me my entire nuclear family is at least somewhat impressed by my writing, she completes the idea. She thinks I should write the history of our family business, the history of Russell Canoe Livery. I like to think of it as The Story of Us. The thing is that Russell Canoe Livery is such a family oriented business, and I hope it always will be, that it will be impossible to write about the livery without writing extensively about the history of my Dad’s family, as well as our own. The entire idea gets at the very heart of our family, the reason I decided to study business in the first place, and even who I am as a person. I want to make this clear: I can’t imagine my family not owning the canoe livery. I can’t imagine growing up not working for my parents. It will always be very near and dear to my heart.
Aside from all of that, it is a compelling story. It is a story of entrepreneurship. It is the story of a mother and son working together to keep a business running under less than ideal circumstances. It is the story of two baby-boomers raising a family of three kids. It is also the story of the love between grandparents and grandkids. It is also the story of an extremely small town that likes to keep to itself. It is also the story of friendly competition and a changing society.
I have to do this. If nothing else I have to do this for my nephew and any future nieces and nephews. They all deserve to know the story.
Oh, and not to get political, but: Yes, my family did build this. We did it DESPITE government actions.
By the way, if you’ve never had the pleasure of watching America The Story of Us on The History Channel, it is wonderful, even if long. It is a unique look at what makes the US what we are today.
There are thousands upon thousands of pieces of advice I can share on the blog. Many of these have been repeated countless times and I feel like I shouldn’t be the tenth person to tell you these. But these rules, written by Kurt Vonnegut held real value for me and I hope they turn out to be just as valuable to you.
Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.
Start as close to the end as possible.
Be a sadist. No matter sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order…
Okay, I have a word for you. Sort of an experiment, I guess. Part of a psychological test, really. I want to see how you’ll react to this word.
Because the way you react will tell me everything about everything I’m about to tell you here in this post.
Ready for the word?
Alright, here it is. Cartoons.
There. Do anything for you? Are you feeling it? Even a twitch of sensation? Heart rate increasing? Eyes twinkling? Anything?
No. Nothing. Admit it. You’re numb. Your eyes are glazed over and your skin is sallow. While I’m at it, you could stand to run a comb through your hair.
The word is meaningless to you now.
Which proves the point I’m about to make. And the truth of that point — oh, the truth! Oh, how it cuts like a knife! But not the kind of blunt gray knife that…
This, of course, struck a huge nerve. I’m so sick of people pretending to be something they are not. When are we as a society going to value authenticity? I’m waiting… but not holding my breath.
Henry Mintzberg thinks modern management is off the tracks. While we spoke, I got the feeling if I asked what’s wrong with management he’d say practically everything. This from one of the most respected business thinkers in the world.
He went so far as to say,
“The problem in America
isn’t the economy it’s management.”
Mintzberg speaks against:
MBA’s with no experience.
Shareholder value.
Separating management from leadership.
Top-down strategy making. He believes strategy emerges from conversations within an organization.
Excessive executive compensation. He juxtaposed narcissist with over-compensated CEO.
Using terms like “human resources” and “human capital”. He thinks it’s sick.
Pushing employees to work harder and longer.
Current hiring practices.
Hiring a CEO:
“Stop hiring people who can impress.” Henry Mintzberg
Stop looking for perfect candidates. Mintzberg said, “Flaws aren’t fatal.” I got the idea that he doesn’t believe in savior-CEO’s.
Over the past two weeks, three different readers, a gentleman and two ladies, from three different countries on two different continents have written to me asking about the realities of living in a new country. “How did I make a life for myself in France?” They asked. How did I find a job? Was I scared to give up my career and my entire life? How did I make the final decision to embark on the big move? And how in the world did I learn French well enough to live in a French society?
I see the timing of this correspondence, filled with similar questions from authors literally thousands of km apart, as a nudge from Mother Serendipity that perhaps it is time for me to write a little more seriously about life as an expat.
I try to be as honest as possible about living abroad in…
It was unbearable. The whole thing. Every second worse than the last. I just kept thinking about calling him, wondering what would happen, if anyone would answer. In the last weeks, we’d been reduced to spending our time together in recollection, but that was not nothing. The pleasure of remembering had been taken away from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (Photo credit: theunquietlibrary)
Dear D.,
I’ve been meaning to write you all this past week for the obvious reason: August 15 would’ve been your 31st birthday. It pisses me off I can’t directly tease you about becoming a dirty old man despite the fact I am older than you. I still feel cheated out of years of memories of us. I suppose I had such a clear vision of us still arguing over memories in our 70s and 80s, just like your Great Aunts E. and G. and my Grandma, I still can’t quite believe it just wasn’t meant to be.
The passage above describes well what I feel nearly three years after you passed away. I’m afraid those quirky memories we made in childhood, high school, and then college will die if I happen to forget. I just don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to forget. I’m glad I read The Fault In Our Stars by John Green before I tried to write anything. Now this letter has a purpose.
That is what is so aggravating. Every time I think of you, what I want to say to you, or memories of us, it just seems to go nowhere. Without you here, who is left to really care, besides me? No one. Once I come to that conclusion for the hundredth time, I realize how futile writing a letter to you is. And yet, I can’t help it. I have to do something. There were way too many things left unsaid.
By the way, don’t get the impression that I’m the only one who remembers you. I can only imagine the hole left in your family. Just the other day I came across a post Carla posted on your Facebook wall. I know she misses you just as much as I do, as does Jelly. Some time ago I saw Jelly when I ordered something at Tony’s, and we just didn’t even know what to say to each other. It was the first time I saw her since you passed away. We talked about anything and everything else, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t first and foremost on our minds.
So here it goes. Here are a few memories of us:
High School –
Freshman Year. You ended up getting hours of detention for picking on me in Freshman English. It became so bad Miss V. quipped that you and I would probably end up married someday, we were that practiced at nagging each other. Every time I think of Friends, Romeo and Juliet, or Great Expectations, I think of Freshman English and you. I can almost feel you tapping me on the shoulder and hear you make some smartass remark about people trying to look like Courtney Cox. By the way, I know you knew you had it all wrong. The haircut was called the Rachel for a reason. You just liked to play dumb to get attention. I still find it amusing that you ended up with detention and I didn’t.
Prom. I will never forget you on Prom Night, senior year. You ended up taking my cousin K. (Rusty) as your date, and she became Prom Queen. I’d never seen you so incredibly happy. You had to tell everyone that you were the date of the Prom Queen and were genuinely happy for her. I know it is stupid, and I never admitted this, but until I saw you that happy, I was envious of K. If you’d asked me to the prom, I doubt I would’ve said yes. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t imagine it. It could’ve made up for years of us being ostracized by our class. We could’ve spent all night making snide remarks, joking around, and just proving everyone wrong. In the end, I don’t think either one of us had the guts.
Kayaking and Guy. I’ll never forget your Aunt L. and Guy visiting from Texas one summer. Somehow I was pressured into taking Guy kayaking. I don’t think I ever paddled so fast in my entire life. The entire trip was strange. I just felt like I had to show him up, he was that cocky. You were very right about him. I can understand why you two weren’t exactly friends. I’m trying in vain to remember whether or not you went with us. Maybe you just came to the Livery and didn’t go kayaking? It doesn’t matter. We did talk about Guy and came to the conclusion that he was a little too wrapped up in Friday Night Lights.
State. I distinctly remember the day we received our housing assignments for our first year at Michigan State. My jaw dropped when I realized not only were we going to attend the same university, we were assigned to the same dorm complex, Snyder-Phillips. Quite frankly, I wasn’t happy. I just wanted to start fresh as MSU, and there you would be, a reminder of school years I would rather forget. In the end, I’m so grateful for that simple twist of fate. Quite simply, college would not have been the same without you.
A National Championship and the Flintstones. I love the fact that we somehow found each other among throngs of people in Cedar Village after MSU won the 2000 National Championship. I think about that April night a lot. How could I not? That picture of us outside Cedar Village – you smoking a cigar and your arm around me, me smiling like my life depended on it – is among my favorites.
2nd Floor, Snyder Hall. You used to love hanging out on my floor in Snyder Hall. I’ll never forget the crazy 3 AM political conversations we had, Kim included. I just can’t wait until we have the first female President of the United States. I’ll smile, think about how you just lost a bet, and carry on, thinking about how very wrong you were the entire time. Sexism doesn’t pay.
Where were you? I’ll never forget getting a call from your Mom freshman year at State. She couldn’t get a hold of you and simply wanted to know if I knew where you were. I didn’t at that moment, and the entire thing broke my heart. I wish I could’ve helped her – and you.
Capstone. We’d lost track of each other during those years I studied abroad. Nevertheless, you found your way back into my life. You just wanted me to look over your résumé and rekindle our friendship. It worked. You once again became a fixture in my life.
Crunchy’s and a Broken Heart. D, I have no idea what your true feelings for me were, but you must have truly cared for me on some level, whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not. During the spring of 2004, as my life was endlessly shifting under me before I could even regain my footing, you somehow knew how heartbroken hearted I was. You knew that I simply needed a night out with an old friend who understood just how upset I was. I wanted that job in Austin desperately, not to mention the mess that was my personal life at that point. Many things happened that evening, of course , and even the next day. I’m not going to talk about them here, but I need to say this: Thank you! You knew just what I needed, even if I didn’t.
Brian. That same spring, 2004, I began my relationship with an old friend, Brian. Your teasing still makes me laugh. Some of it was so spot on, especially those jokes about how I could never have any fun while living in Arenac County. You basically stated that any night of debauchery in Arenac County would become common knowledge before I even made my way home. So very true. I got the sense that you were happy that I finally had a man in my life, my first true romantic relationship. Those were some wonderful days for Brian and I, and I think you could sense just how happy I was at that moment. If only I could live in those moments forever.
Aftermath.
A phone call or two. It still upsets me that we weren’t closer in those first few years after I graduated from Michigan State. I thought we would have time. Unfortunately that is what we didn’t have. There were several times I wanted to call you up and just lay everything on the line. I wanted to know what your feelings for me were. That was one thing I could never figure out. I wanted to know why you had so many issues with your Mom and brother, especially your Mom. I wanted to know what was really going on with you. Unfortunately we never had those conversations. I didn’t realize just how wrong things were until you were gone. It was too late.
Great Auntie G.’s Funeral. Of all my memories of you, your Great Aunt G.’s funeral stands out. It was the last time I ever saw you. It started immediately. We just gravitated toward one another. I suppose that’s no surprise as we were the only people under 50 in the room. Then, of course, my Grandma asked us to go get her a package of hearing aid batteries. We may have been at a funeral, but it sure didn’t take us long to start laughing our butts off once we were out the door. You either laugh or cry, right? You have to admit: It was the perfect excuse for us to catch up. After picking up the hearing aid batteries, you and I just drove around and reminisced. We covered a lot of ground from Standish to Omer. I’m so glad we had that opportunity. In a way, it was almost as if you were saying goodbye. The last time I saw you, you and your Dad were leaving the funeral home and walking toward the Granton. It angered me at the time, but I suppose everyone deals with death in their own way. I just never figured out how to deal with yours.
You have no way of knowing this, of course, but I never made it to your funeral. I ended up having to work. I suppose it is just as well as I would’ve been an absolute wreck. A few weeks after your funeral, I tried to find your grave. There were things left unsaid (most of which I am writing here today) and I wanted to get it all off my chest. There is so much in our hometown and in East Lansing that will always remind me of you.
And yet, there is one thing that still bugs me. What was our relationship? Whatever it was between us was much deeper than simple friendship, and yet we never had a romantic relationship, not even close. The closest thing I can come up with is that we were family without actually being related. We knew how to get on each other’s nerves, we knew how to make each other laugh and cry, and above all, I think we both cared. Was it really as simple as that? I like to think so. I love you and miss you.
Linds
PS – Oh, and one last thing. Your Mom. I never told you this, but your Mom happened to be my Grandpa’s favorite nurse. I know that you didn’t have a good relationship with her and it never was any of my business, but I am grateful to her. She took great care of my Grandpa when he was dying. I wish I could simply tell her thank you. I wish I could talk to her about you.
I just couldn’t help myself this week. Sometimes there are things that just can’t help but remind you of better times; indeed, some of the best times of your life. That is precisely what happened this week. It all started a couple of weeks ago when a promoter for StereoTerra asked me if he could put up a poster promoting the new music festival in the store (for those not in the know, in my off-line life I manage a convenience store open 24 hrs. a day, 7 days a week, 365, and yes, we happen to sell gas). I directed him to the adhoc bulletin board back by the bathrooms only to later realize he plastered several posters in strategic places around the store, which I had to promptly take down (unfortunately). Despite this simple act of deception, I was intrigued. He obviously believed in what he was promoting. He even gave me and members of my crew free passes for the entire four day music festival.
For the record, StereoTerra is at this very moment being held in the aptly named Edenville, Michigan, a very small town set among several manmade lakes along the Tittabawassee River in mid-Michigan. It is close enough that I’ve watched in amusement all week as 20-something wannabe hippies, eclectic band members, all manner of kids gearing up for a very long weekend of debauchery came parading through the store, huge Chevy vans and canoes in tow. I loved every minute of it, and so did my crew. And so the rumors flew.
Supposedly the good residents of Edenville did not want this four day music festival to happen. It might have something to do with the hours. StereoTerra’s eclectic line-up, which includes indie rock, folk, country, alternative, and just about everything in between, is set to run Thursday August 16th – Sunday August 19th 10 AM – 2 AM. Well, as Edenville supposedly fought the festival, Midland County stepped in to help ensure the festival would happen. Supposedly promoters spent tens of thousands of dollars clearing land for camping and venues for the music festival. It became a simple matter of economics. Midland County wanted the money, despite the threat of noise. Heaven forbid anything takes place after 9 PM!
More than anything, I hope the festival is successful. If all goes well, it is to become an annual event. Michigan needs events like these, especially rural Michigan. I have to say, even though I didn’t make use of my free pass, just the fact that StereoTerra is taking place so close to home, at this very moment, brings back so many wonderful memories.
Copyright Steve Snodgrass 2012
Ten long years ago I was in the exact right place at the exact right time with the exact right people. I was living in Austin, Texas at the time and had the inside scoop for the first annual Austin City Limits Festival, held in Zilker Park, August 2002. Ten years later, the festival is still going strong, despite rumors of it becoming much more commercial. The funny thing is that I didn’t recognize many acts at the first ACL Fest, with the exception of Shawn Colvin (which is another story all together). Today, what I wouldn’t give to see the lineup they have for ACL Fest 2012! Jack White, of the White Stripes, Weezer, and most impressive of all, The Red Hot Chili Peppers are all in the lineup. I honestly don’t know how I would’ve handled that lineup back then. At the time, they happened to be three of my favorite bands.
So why do I have such fond memories of ACL Fest? Several reasons. First off, I hit the festival with two of my best friends in Austin, Andy and Cheryl. Andy had a radio show on KOOP at the time, and Cheryl happened to be his manager. We weren’t just your run of the mill kids who happened to be fans. All three of us took music pretty seriously, but certainly not seriously enough not to have an amazing time. On the first day Cheryl happened to lose her cell phone in the crowd. As Andy, Cheryl, and I scoured the ground for her phone, Cheryl lost track of me. After she found me, she told me a story that still lives on in legend. Supposedly she saw a women, a women who happened to look JUST like me, jump on stage during Bob Schneider’s set. This woman supposedly flashed him. Somehow, under the influence of the strong Texas summer sun, Cheryl and I decided it would be fun to let Andy believe I flashed Bob Schneider. At the time, Bob Schneider fronted several successful bands in Austin, including The Scabs and the Ugly Americans. As you can see here, he is extremely good looking and still going strong. Oh, and he’s talented too. So yes, when we finally found Andy, Cheryl told him I’d flashed Bob Schneider. I wish.
After one long day in the sun, goofing off, and listening to great music with friends, Andy and I went back for round two. In the middle of the day we happened to be waiting for Shawn Colvin’s set when Andy did what he always did best. Talk. After he and I set out my quilt on the grass near the stage, he struck up a conversation with a group of very young soldiers from Fort Hood. They were just a couple of years younger than me, probably ages 18-20 at the time. More than anything they were incredibly angry they could be sent to Iraq at any time, and yet they couldn’t buy a beer on an insanely hot August day in Texas. I think of those young men often and wonder how many of them served in Iraq and Afghanistan. Were some them still stationed at Fort Hood when terrorism hit Kileen? I will never know.
As the sun went down, Andy and I decided to move on. We followed the throngs of people leaving Zilker Park and ended up hanging out at Shady Grove on Barton Springs. The funny thing is that Shady Grove was packed. Somehow they were letting people order takeout and set up on the lawn. That is exactly what Andy and I did, throwing back Bohemia, the best Mexican beer I’ve ever had, and eating takeout. That unique dining experience topped off an amazing weekend. You just can’t beat an August music festival.
Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde 