As I drove to pick up my kids from school recently, the temperature at the bank read 84 degrees.
I reflected with frustration on the weeks of crappy May and June weather that consumed probably 40 percent of our summer break. How I’d like to exchange these warm August days in school with the early June days of freezing rain.
In North Dakota, the start date of schools is a local matter, one that school boards and superintendents protect vigorously. I agree with local control and support it.
The problem with school schedules is this. Local school boards approve the schedule but the schedule is built around -- or strongly influence by -- a statewide athletic calendar (with a big emphasis on finishing football before the snow flies.) The real “control” being exercised at the local level on school start dates seems pretty minor.
A couple years ago, the Legislature narrowly rejected a measure that would have required schools to start after Labor Day. Lobbying efforts by the school superintendents, school boards and other education groups prevailed.
Local control and athletic schedules aside, there are some sensible and compelling reasons to delay the beginning of school until after Labor Day. And it can be done without threatening local control or jeopardizing the quality of education.
The first and most obvious reason is weather. August is one of the most reliably warm months of the year in North Dakota. Why do we tie our families at home and our kids back in school for two or three of the nicest weeks of the year?
By doing so, we compel a large number of summer attractions to close prematurely. Last weekend was one of the nicest of the season, but families couldn’t take a dip in any of Bismarck’s public pools. All were closed for the season.
Raging Rivers, plagued by a summer of awful water-park weather, is closed except on weekends. That attraction is missing out on a couple potentially great weeks of revenue.
Hotels and other attractions suffer as well because once school starts both employees and in-state visitors dry up. Big attractions like Medora struggle to find staff for the last few weeks of their season because students leave for school in mid August.
A Bismarck hotel owner, testifying to the Legislature on this issue, said his business dropped off 30 percent as soon as school started in August. He said continuing the summer season through Labor Day would have generated another $15,000 in sales for the year – “a meaningful amount for a small North Dakota business who is asked to pay property taxes totaling over $37,000 and a school distribution of $20,683.”
A 2006 statewide survey found that 75 percent of people who have an opinion on this issue support requiring schools to begin after Labor Day.
But a state mandate shouldn’t be necessary. Since schools collectively agree on a very similar schedule now, why can’t they collectively agree on a schedule that starts after Labor Day?
They could. They just need to hear from enough people who want them to.
Summer is short and precious in our state. A later start and finishing date for schools makes sense. It would be good for families, kids, businesses, teachers, and our economy.
And it might even be a welcome change for those poor high school football players forced to practice in full gear on the hottest days of summer.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Friends: A choice and a treasure
"A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter; he who finds one finds a treasure." Sirach 6:14
One of my oldest pals, Schultzie, is in town. We’ve been friends for 26 years, ever since we met as mullet-wearing pre-pubescent junior high kids who shared a love for playing basketball and baking Christmas cookies.
From Thanksgiving through Christmas, we baked cookies almost every day after school. This tradition caught up with us in college. We once took pictures in a mall photo booth and tried to display as many of our cookie-induced chins as possible. When the machine spit out the strip of black and whites, they revealed at least 10 between us.
We laughed for hours at those awful pictures -- just one of countless such events that triggered stupid levels of laughter. Through high school, college and beyond, Schultzie was a pretty constant companion. We covered a lot of territory in those 12 years, growing from childhood to adulthood, and accumulated a hard drive full of memories.
When we were both just 19, our parents amazingly approved of us taking a five-week trip through Europe, largely un-chaperoned.
Credit cards were not yet an international currency, so we followed the “Europe on $20 a Day” plan. We were so nervous about running out of money we ate very little and walked everywhere. (This helped eliminate some of the chins.)
In Rome I remember staring at the carts of gelato, debating whether to eat supper or indulge in dessert because both would break the budget. Sensibility won out at first. But after errantly ordering potato pizza one night, we started ignoring our motherly voices and chose instead the largest-size bowls of Italian ice cream we could afford.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, who commented a lot about friendship, said the only way to have a friend is to be one. This is not so true of sisters, brothers, or parents. All of these relationships are gifts of birth. They are a lot better with effort of course, but they last a lifetime either way.
Spouses too are different, formally bound by a legal and/or spiritual pledge.
Friendship, on the other hand, is a choice. One that can be abandoned at any moment should either party so desire. That’s why friendships are so special. They are completely optional – held together only by mutual interest and good will.
As the years pass, the likelihood of sometime living across the street, across town or even across the state from my friend Schultzie dwindles. We’ll probably always live across the country.
But that’s okay. A lifelong friend is like a favorite pair of jeans that never wear out or become too tight. Days, weeks or even years might pass, but when you pull them on they still fit comfortably -- even if you’ve eaten too many Christmas cookies.
One of my oldest pals, Schultzie, is in town. We’ve been friends for 26 years, ever since we met as mullet-wearing pre-pubescent junior high kids who shared a love for playing basketball and baking Christmas cookies.
From Thanksgiving through Christmas, we baked cookies almost every day after school. This tradition caught up with us in college. We once took pictures in a mall photo booth and tried to display as many of our cookie-induced chins as possible. When the machine spit out the strip of black and whites, they revealed at least 10 between us.
We laughed for hours at those awful pictures -- just one of countless such events that triggered stupid levels of laughter. Through high school, college and beyond, Schultzie was a pretty constant companion. We covered a lot of territory in those 12 years, growing from childhood to adulthood, and accumulated a hard drive full of memories.
When we were both just 19, our parents amazingly approved of us taking a five-week trip through Europe, largely un-chaperoned.
Credit cards were not yet an international currency, so we followed the “Europe on $20 a Day” plan. We were so nervous about running out of money we ate very little and walked everywhere. (This helped eliminate some of the chins.)
In Rome I remember staring at the carts of gelato, debating whether to eat supper or indulge in dessert because both would break the budget. Sensibility won out at first. But after errantly ordering potato pizza one night, we started ignoring our motherly voices and chose instead the largest-size bowls of Italian ice cream we could afford.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, who commented a lot about friendship, said the only way to have a friend is to be one. This is not so true of sisters, brothers, or parents. All of these relationships are gifts of birth. They are a lot better with effort of course, but they last a lifetime either way.
Spouses too are different, formally bound by a legal and/or spiritual pledge.
Friendship, on the other hand, is a choice. One that can be abandoned at any moment should either party so desire. That’s why friendships are so special. They are completely optional – held together only by mutual interest and good will.
As the years pass, the likelihood of sometime living across the street, across town or even across the state from my friend Schultzie dwindles. We’ll probably always live across the country.
But that’s okay. A lifelong friend is like a favorite pair of jeans that never wear out or become too tight. Days, weeks or even years might pass, but when you pull them on they still fit comfortably -- even if you’ve eaten too many Christmas cookies.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Surviving a Summer of Squabbles
While thousands of people were reveling at the state fair or 10,000 Lakes Festival last weekend, I was solo-parenting at a very different festival: Bickerfest 2009. This included refereeing the ever-popular sideshows Whine-o-rama, Wrestlemania and Squabblejam.
For kids, summer means freedom, fun and a lot more togetherness with siblings. As August approaches, most parents I know are growing weary of the battles.
The scenarios that trigger sibling scraps are usually too-ridiculous to repeat. My favorite exchange this weekend found my son yelling down the steps, “Quit talking to me!” To which his younger brother responded in his loudest possible voice, “No!!! You quit talking to me first.”
In the peak of frustration with Bickerfest, I retreated briefly to my computer and hastily composed an email to my family chronicling the events of my aggravating morning and my not-so-graceful ways of handling it.
Later that day, when the kids and I arrived home from some errands, a beautiful vase of miniature roses greeted me at the door. A note in my mom’s script advised, “Spread happiness in a troubled world.”
My mom was famous for keeping her cool. When my siblings were young, we lived just one block from school, so they always came home for lunch. My mom set out the food family style and left them unsupervised to serve and eat lunch while she retreated to the piano.
Chaos usually ensued, as you would expect. But my mom was in her own happy place drowning out the noise with songs and scales. To this day, she insists she was trying to teach them to share.
For me, and I believe most parents, listening to my kids fight is difficult for reasons beyond just the noise or the inherent danger of two boys in a real brawl with light sabers. Remember Madlyn Primoff, the 45-year-old Park Avenue lawyer who became a nationwide news story this spring for kicking her 12 and 10-year-old quarreling daughters out of the car and driving away?
Their bickering was annoying I’m sure, but I doubt that’s what prompted her to make good on the most widely used threat of all time. “Stop fighting or I’ll stop the car.”
Ultimately, what eats away at parents like Primoff – and me -- is the fear that we are the cause of the sibling quarrels. That our combative kids are proof that we are failing as parents. What am I doing wrong and how can I fix this, we wonder?
Parenting experts offer a wide variety of tips and tricks. We’ve heard them before, but perhaps a few are worth repeating.
• Negotiate in advance solutions and penalties for common daily battles.
• Set ground rules for fair fighting, like teaching them to fight with words, not fists.
• Use natural consequences. For example, those who demand to get the first or the most, get the last and the least.
The one point on which all the experts agree is that fighting is both normal and essential for growing up. Somehow squabbling with siblings teaches kids how to solve problems and handle conflicts as adults.
To this end, my most trusted advisor (my mom) and the books, too, strongly advise that parents let kids work out their battles themselves.
So, I guess I can retire my whistle and striped shirt. Next time my kids are fighting, you can find me at the piano.
For kids, summer means freedom, fun and a lot more togetherness with siblings. As August approaches, most parents I know are growing weary of the battles.
The scenarios that trigger sibling scraps are usually too-ridiculous to repeat. My favorite exchange this weekend found my son yelling down the steps, “Quit talking to me!” To which his younger brother responded in his loudest possible voice, “No!!! You quit talking to me first.”
In the peak of frustration with Bickerfest, I retreated briefly to my computer and hastily composed an email to my family chronicling the events of my aggravating morning and my not-so-graceful ways of handling it.
Later that day, when the kids and I arrived home from some errands, a beautiful vase of miniature roses greeted me at the door. A note in my mom’s script advised, “Spread happiness in a troubled world.”
My mom was famous for keeping her cool. When my siblings were young, we lived just one block from school, so they always came home for lunch. My mom set out the food family style and left them unsupervised to serve and eat lunch while she retreated to the piano.
Chaos usually ensued, as you would expect. But my mom was in her own happy place drowning out the noise with songs and scales. To this day, she insists she was trying to teach them to share.
For me, and I believe most parents, listening to my kids fight is difficult for reasons beyond just the noise or the inherent danger of two boys in a real brawl with light sabers. Remember Madlyn Primoff, the 45-year-old Park Avenue lawyer who became a nationwide news story this spring for kicking her 12 and 10-year-old quarreling daughters out of the car and driving away?
Their bickering was annoying I’m sure, but I doubt that’s what prompted her to make good on the most widely used threat of all time. “Stop fighting or I’ll stop the car.”
Ultimately, what eats away at parents like Primoff – and me -- is the fear that we are the cause of the sibling quarrels. That our combative kids are proof that we are failing as parents. What am I doing wrong and how can I fix this, we wonder?
Parenting experts offer a wide variety of tips and tricks. We’ve heard them before, but perhaps a few are worth repeating.
• Negotiate in advance solutions and penalties for common daily battles.
• Set ground rules for fair fighting, like teaching them to fight with words, not fists.
• Use natural consequences. For example, those who demand to get the first or the most, get the last and the least.
The one point on which all the experts agree is that fighting is both normal and essential for growing up. Somehow squabbling with siblings teaches kids how to solve problems and handle conflicts as adults.
To this end, my most trusted advisor (my mom) and the books, too, strongly advise that parents let kids work out their battles themselves.
So, I guess I can retire my whistle and striped shirt. Next time my kids are fighting, you can find me at the piano.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Life Runs Like a River
It’s summer and that means one thing: family road trips
This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.
As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!
Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.
As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.
Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.
It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.
On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”
I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.
And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.
When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.
I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.
But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”
We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.
So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.
This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.
As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!
Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.
As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.
Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.
It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.
On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”
I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.
And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.
When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.
I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.
But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”
We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.
So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Money Machines Save the Day
My five year old was sitting at the table, counting his jar of money for about the 19th time in two days.
“Mom, I’m saving my money and you know what I’m gonna buy?” he said.
“A Bionicle?” I guessed.
“Nope,” he replied. “A money machine. You buy it for 40 dollars and then after that you can make your own money -- as much money as you want. I’ll give you and daddy some.”
Hmm, I said under my breath, sounds like the government.
We’ve enjoyed some chuckles at my child’s innocence and naivety. But sadly, his scheme isn’t all that different than the economic solutions being implemented by our leaders in Washington.
In the last year, the Federal Reserve has pumped more than $800 billion dollars of new money into our economy. Apparently, when people aren’t spending money because they don’t have any money, the U.S. government can just turn on the money machines and print some more.
It’s just one of the many puzzling solutions coming out our capitol almost daily.
• Health care plans created to protect the uninsured that will unravel the nation’s entire healthcare payment system.
• Cap-and-trade policies that will paralyze key industries like manufacturing and transportation at a time when they are already having heart failure.
• Huge government takeovers of banking, finance, auto and soon healthcare industries.
• And a $787 billion federal stimulus package that includes nearly $1 billion for North Dakota who enjoys a $1.2 billion budget surplus.
Ronald Reagan, speaking at a different moment in history, described today’s government well. “Government’s view of the economy can be summed up in a few short phrases,” he said. “If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it.”
As I watch my son count his coins, I’m searching for an answer to one basic question. How do all of these sweeping new policies and spending programs add up to a better America? Where is the common sense, the reality that says one plus one equals two? The change we can believe in?
A group of North Dakotans are asking these same questions in a more public way. For the second time in two months they are gathering to protest the expansion of government with a Rally on the Capitol Mall this Thursday at 6.
They’re planning speakers, music, food and vendors – a 4th of July celebration of individual liberty and freedom from overreaching government that our founding fathers envisioned.
I think I’ll join them, and bring my son. Who knows, maybe someone will be selling a money machine.
“Mom, I’m saving my money and you know what I’m gonna buy?” he said.
“A Bionicle?” I guessed.
“Nope,” he replied. “A money machine. You buy it for 40 dollars and then after that you can make your own money -- as much money as you want. I’ll give you and daddy some.”
Hmm, I said under my breath, sounds like the government.
We’ve enjoyed some chuckles at my child’s innocence and naivety. But sadly, his scheme isn’t all that different than the economic solutions being implemented by our leaders in Washington.
In the last year, the Federal Reserve has pumped more than $800 billion dollars of new money into our economy. Apparently, when people aren’t spending money because they don’t have any money, the U.S. government can just turn on the money machines and print some more.
It’s just one of the many puzzling solutions coming out our capitol almost daily.
• Health care plans created to protect the uninsured that will unravel the nation’s entire healthcare payment system.
• Cap-and-trade policies that will paralyze key industries like manufacturing and transportation at a time when they are already having heart failure.
• Huge government takeovers of banking, finance, auto and soon healthcare industries.
• And a $787 billion federal stimulus package that includes nearly $1 billion for North Dakota who enjoys a $1.2 billion budget surplus.
Ronald Reagan, speaking at a different moment in history, described today’s government well. “Government’s view of the economy can be summed up in a few short phrases,” he said. “If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it.”
As I watch my son count his coins, I’m searching for an answer to one basic question. How do all of these sweeping new policies and spending programs add up to a better America? Where is the common sense, the reality that says one plus one equals two? The change we can believe in?
A group of North Dakotans are asking these same questions in a more public way. For the second time in two months they are gathering to protest the expansion of government with a Rally on the Capitol Mall this Thursday at 6.
They’re planning speakers, music, food and vendors – a 4th of July celebration of individual liberty and freedom from overreaching government that our founding fathers envisioned.
I think I’ll join them, and bring my son. Who knows, maybe someone will be selling a money machine.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Why do dads matter?
When I was nine, my dad rescued a pile of bricks from a historic building that was being demolished in downtown Fargo. He dumped them on our driveway, and these bricks became a summer project for my family and all the neighborhood kids.
Our job was to chip the old mortar off the bricks. The pile was enormous and, for those who have never done it, whittling old mortar off bricks is about as much fun as removing stubborn wallpaper. With hours of free child labor, we eventually transformed the useless pile of rubble into the makings of a beautiful floor-to-ceiling fireplace.
This project is just one of my dad’s many creative teaching tools. Through it, I learned the value of helping others with crummy jobs, saw trash transformed into treasure, and gutted through hours of mundane work to experience the satisfaction of a stunning final product.
I have an amazing father, and so do my kids. Our bedroom is littered with love notes for my husband from our daughter. As soon as she could scrawl together words, she began tucking notes under his pillow that were signed, “scrit admrir.”
Every good dad brings his own unique gifts to his children. But universally, dads fill a number of roles that are vital to our kids and communities.
Dads are a child’s first supreme authority figure. They provide motivation to behave and perform. Growing up, I respected my mom and tried hard to treat her kindly. But my dad, I did not cross. He had very low tolerance for bad attitudes, shoddy work, or disrespect. We all wanted to please him and still do, even as adults.
My kids, like most others today, have a more informal relationship with their dad. But they know he is the leader of our family and rarely challenge his authority. They like him, want to be like him and treasure his approval.
Dads provide protection and security -- financial and physical. My dad, at nearly 80 years old, still works every day to secure a better future for everyone in my family. He has devoted his whole life to us, without complaint.
In any threat -- be it a bad blizzard, a bad recession or bad person -- we turn to our dads to pull us through safely. They can also be counted on for rowdy wrestling matches, piggy-backs to bed and occasional suspension of rules regarding bedtime, snacks, or destructive indoor games.
Finally, dads are a steady source of unconditional love. This isn’t unique to dads, of course, but as a whole, I think dads come very close to perfecting the art of loving without conditions.
They typically don’t need much recognition, encouragement or material gifts. But offer your dad respect and he will do or give you anything you need, including, if necessary, his life.
Dads are precious. If all fathers were dads to their children, our world would be a much better place. To appreciate what they do, look at the poverty, crime and hopelessness that dominate cultures where dads are largely absent.
Dads are like the bricks I cleaned as a kid. They provide a fortress of authority, protection and love that our children and communities need to grow and be healthy.
May God abundantly bless our dads.
Our job was to chip the old mortar off the bricks. The pile was enormous and, for those who have never done it, whittling old mortar off bricks is about as much fun as removing stubborn wallpaper. With hours of free child labor, we eventually transformed the useless pile of rubble into the makings of a beautiful floor-to-ceiling fireplace.
This project is just one of my dad’s many creative teaching tools. Through it, I learned the value of helping others with crummy jobs, saw trash transformed into treasure, and gutted through hours of mundane work to experience the satisfaction of a stunning final product.
I have an amazing father, and so do my kids. Our bedroom is littered with love notes for my husband from our daughter. As soon as she could scrawl together words, she began tucking notes under his pillow that were signed, “scrit admrir.”
Every good dad brings his own unique gifts to his children. But universally, dads fill a number of roles that are vital to our kids and communities.
Dads are a child’s first supreme authority figure. They provide motivation to behave and perform. Growing up, I respected my mom and tried hard to treat her kindly. But my dad, I did not cross. He had very low tolerance for bad attitudes, shoddy work, or disrespect. We all wanted to please him and still do, even as adults.
My kids, like most others today, have a more informal relationship with their dad. But they know he is the leader of our family and rarely challenge his authority. They like him, want to be like him and treasure his approval.
Dads provide protection and security -- financial and physical. My dad, at nearly 80 years old, still works every day to secure a better future for everyone in my family. He has devoted his whole life to us, without complaint.
In any threat -- be it a bad blizzard, a bad recession or bad person -- we turn to our dads to pull us through safely. They can also be counted on for rowdy wrestling matches, piggy-backs to bed and occasional suspension of rules regarding bedtime, snacks, or destructive indoor games.
Finally, dads are a steady source of unconditional love. This isn’t unique to dads, of course, but as a whole, I think dads come very close to perfecting the art of loving without conditions.
They typically don’t need much recognition, encouragement or material gifts. But offer your dad respect and he will do or give you anything you need, including, if necessary, his life.
Dads are precious. If all fathers were dads to their children, our world would be a much better place. To appreciate what they do, look at the poverty, crime and hopelessness that dominate cultures where dads are largely absent.
Dads are like the bricks I cleaned as a kid. They provide a fortress of authority, protection and love that our children and communities need to grow and be healthy.
May God abundantly bless our dads.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Unlimited Minutes and Other Technology Tricks
Last week, a colleague entered my office at about 2:30 with a request. He needed 160 copies of a document that didn’t exactly exist by noon the next day. I mentally scanned all the other items on my plate and realized this was now the largest pile of potatoes. So I jumped in, serving “drop-everything” requests to at least three others in the process.
One of them was a co-worker who I needed to confirm some facts. He called several of his sources, but none answered their cell phones. We impatiently searched the web for information. No luck.
He placed more calls and text messages. Skunked again. “Hmm,” he said in disbelief. “This is the first time I’ve ever called Lynn when he didn’t answer his cell.”
The first time? Ever? Despite my desire to complete the project, I secretly applauded Lynn for being temporarily unreachable. Clearly, he’s way too accessible.
Not so many years ago, this request would have been impossible. Producing and printing 160 color copies of a four-page document laden with facts and statistics would have taken weeks or even months. Today, not only is it possible, it’s fairly reasonable.
I wish I had been involved in the business world before the Internet, email, cell phones, fax machines or even Fed Ex. I want just one memory of a conversation that ended with, “OK, I’ll get it in the mail today,” and the recipient had to wait days or maybe weeks for the item to show up in a mailbox.
Today, most documents arrive electronically often bearing a red exclamation point. It’s the perfect symbol for our culture today. The faster technology delivers, the more we cram into our lives. We can fish and work, drive and text, all at the same. Unlimited minutes, always available like Lynn to confirm facts.
This pace has a lot of us frazzled. Monday, within one hour, I heard, “June is awful for us,” “Today has been just unbelievably crazy,” “I’m so tired of being busy,” and “What do I want? To rest.”
But as much as we complain about the busy state of our lives, how many of us are willing to change it? To ask, “What’s most important to me?” and to make the tough decisions that will turn those priorities into reality.
At a graduation this weekend, a speaker talked about the importance of standing aside in life for things that are important to us rather than following everyone else’s priorities or complacency.
I thought about this advice recently when a dear friend complained to me about being so busy that she doesn’t even have time to enjoy simple things with her kids, like taking them to the park.
“Why not?” I asked. She offered a litany of reasons about how the tasks consuming her time were contributing to an important professional goal. “What other goals do you have?” I asked. “Well, the kids of course, those are our most important goal,” she said.
We left the conversation at that. Four hours later, she called me back. “Guess where I am?” she said before even saying hello. “Having a picnic with the kids at the park!” And then she added triumphantly, “I’m leaving my cell phone in the car.”
One of them was a co-worker who I needed to confirm some facts. He called several of his sources, but none answered their cell phones. We impatiently searched the web for information. No luck.
He placed more calls and text messages. Skunked again. “Hmm,” he said in disbelief. “This is the first time I’ve ever called Lynn when he didn’t answer his cell.”
The first time? Ever? Despite my desire to complete the project, I secretly applauded Lynn for being temporarily unreachable. Clearly, he’s way too accessible.
Not so many years ago, this request would have been impossible. Producing and printing 160 color copies of a four-page document laden with facts and statistics would have taken weeks or even months. Today, not only is it possible, it’s fairly reasonable.
I wish I had been involved in the business world before the Internet, email, cell phones, fax machines or even Fed Ex. I want just one memory of a conversation that ended with, “OK, I’ll get it in the mail today,” and the recipient had to wait days or maybe weeks for the item to show up in a mailbox.
Today, most documents arrive electronically often bearing a red exclamation point. It’s the perfect symbol for our culture today. The faster technology delivers, the more we cram into our lives. We can fish and work, drive and text, all at the same. Unlimited minutes, always available like Lynn to confirm facts.
This pace has a lot of us frazzled. Monday, within one hour, I heard, “June is awful for us,” “Today has been just unbelievably crazy,” “I’m so tired of being busy,” and “What do I want? To rest.”
But as much as we complain about the busy state of our lives, how many of us are willing to change it? To ask, “What’s most important to me?” and to make the tough decisions that will turn those priorities into reality.
At a graduation this weekend, a speaker talked about the importance of standing aside in life for things that are important to us rather than following everyone else’s priorities or complacency.
I thought about this advice recently when a dear friend complained to me about being so busy that she doesn’t even have time to enjoy simple things with her kids, like taking them to the park.
“Why not?” I asked. She offered a litany of reasons about how the tasks consuming her time were contributing to an important professional goal. “What other goals do you have?” I asked. “Well, the kids of course, those are our most important goal,” she said.
We left the conversation at that. Four hours later, she called me back. “Guess where I am?” she said before even saying hello. “Having a picnic with the kids at the park!” And then she added triumphantly, “I’m leaving my cell phone in the car.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)