February 6, 2019
In Praise of Idleness
Bertrand Russell on the Relationship Between Leisure and Social Justice
”A great deal of harm is being done in the modern world by belief in the virtuousness of work, and that the road to happiness and prosperity lies in an organized diminution of work.”
With his characteristic wisdom punctuated by wry wit, he examines what work actually means:
Work is of two kinds:
first, altering the position of matter at or near the earth’s surface relatively to other such matter;
second, telling other people to do so.
The first kind is unpleasant and ill paid; the second is pleasant and highly paid.
The second kind is capable of indefinite extension: there are not only those who give orders, but those who give advice as to what orders should be given.
Usually two opposite kinds of advice are given simultaneously by two organized bodies of men; this is called politics.
The skill required for this kind of work is not knowledge of the subjects as to which advice is given, but knowledge of the art of persuasive speaking and writing, i.e., of advertising.
Bertrand Russell via Maria Popova
The Full Story
people.first
February 6, 2019
The World Has Gone Mad … Part 2,384,456,216!
Highlighting 4 takeaways ….
- Each bike cost Ofo nearly $100. They were meant to last two years.
- It charged as little as 15 cents a month for unlimited use of each bike.
- Its workforce has been slashed from about 3,600 to a few hundred.
- A company once valued at $3 billion is now on its knees.”
Yunan Zhang
The Full Story
My Thoughts
15 cents per month is $1.80 per year. $3.60 for two years - how long a bike was meant to last. To even break even on a cost per bike of $100 would mean the bike lasting more than 50 years without any other costs attributed.
Hands up if you are surprised.
around.the.world
February 5, 2019
The Music
You can read the story to date through these links; Part One : ‘The Dream’ Part Two : ‘The Calls’ Part Three : ‘The Journey’ Part Four : ‘The Organization’
If you knew him, you know he loved music. Classical, Jazz and ‘Swing/Big Band’ being his favorites. So I chose one piece out of each of those categories for the day. Each one features an artist he loved and at the same time reflects his personality.
Dave Brubeck: Unsquare Dance
He loved Jazz. Loved Brubeck. Loved Unsquare Dance. I chose this piece as a reminder of how he fits the category of a straight shooter, running with the crowd, taking his instruction, following the norms - just as the people dancing a square dance. But just try clapping along, it’s a square dance in 7/8 … different, tangential, breaking the rhythm to create his own variation. That’s him in a nutshell.
The video above is how, to my knowledge, he never heard it - but I know would have loved it.
This is more how he would have heard it (visuals aside)
Elgar: Nimrod
I only found out what this music was called this past December, but it is a perfect piece for the middle of this ceremony. He would of course happily listen to Brahms, Beethoven, Bach but after Brubeck we had to leave the ‘Bs’ behind’. And. For all of his love of classical music from all over the world, he was in his heart, first and foremost English. Elgar then is a perfect choice. As you listen, can’t you imagine him wandering around whistling, humming even singing this to whoever was there. (Generally himself). I can. He did. I remember It as clearly as if he was standing here. In fact, I think he is.
This version coincidentally conducted by Leonard Bernstein - yet another ‘B’ and another one of his favorites.
Sammy Davis Junior: The Rhythm of Life
You all know Sammy. One of the Rat Pack and he loved all of them. This piece could have been Frank’s ‘My Way’ - but way too obvious … no? Not to mention that the message of ‘My Way’ was captured with Unsquare Dance. But Sammy, dancing through that garage in Sweet Charity, rattling out the cities of America - this song captures so much of who he was is and loved. Movies, America, Song, Dance, The Rat Pack. Life.
“And the rhythm of life is a powerful beat Puts a tingle in your fingers and a tingle in your feet Rhythm in your bedroom, rhythm in the street Yes, the rhythm of life is a powerful beat.”
Read Part Six - The Eulogy.
⚱️
homage to dad
February 4, 2019
The Organization
You can read the story to date through these links; Part One : ‘The Dream’ Part Two : ‘The Calls’ Part Three : ‘The Journey’
My mind was pretty clear as to how to organize the funeral. He was to be cremated. We would have a small service in the local church where he had lived. The service would be conducted by one of his friends in the village who was ‘a man of the cloth’. Afterwards, we would have a reception for all in a small hotel - just opposite. One of his favorite places.
In my mind, we should have been able to make it happen the following week.
But of course. It was Christmas. And that was just the start.
The most important point was to start at the beginning. The cremation. If he can’t be cremated, the rest of the day can’t happen. And, with ‘the season’ in full flow, some days the crematorium is going to be closed and as result other days will be fuller. Not to mention deaths at this time of year pick up …. I was offered a range of dates and times.
“Don’t make it too early in the day. Don’t make it too late, so travel time for people coming a distance can be allowed for.”
Next job - availability of Church and Pastor.
Turns out that my first choice of pastor … a long time friend of the family … is not only a lot older than I thought, but in fact, so old that he no longer does these services ….
“I’m a little unsteady on my feet these days John.”
I called the rector of the village.
“Of course, although you should know that the church is closed until April. But we can have the service at a neighboring village.”
We could, but it really has no relevance - so why?
“You should also know that I am not available in the first week of January.”
I crossed out a week’s list of alternatives for the crematorium.
And now, since, the church wasn’t available until April, little point in driving miles to the specific place I had in mind for a reception.
I was recommended a place close by to the crematorium by a friend. I called them. Oh yes. Delighted etc etc ….
My suggested date was the Monday after the rector returned.
“Sorry … booked.”
The Tuesday?
“Booked. Actually we are closed for the first three days of that week for ‘seasonal refurbishment’.”
Of course you are. Thursday?
“That we can do.
Excellent please hold that I need to now go back to the Crematorium and check their availability … we were now so far out into the future that the availability dates I had for them had run out.
I called, confirmed and locked the crematorium and then called the people at the hotel
“Oh I’m sorry, it has been booked.”
Yes, we talked 15 minutes ago.
Yes, they remembered that, but …
“A funeral service had just reserved it online .. outside of my hands.”
Turned out that it was the same company that I was using. I called my funeral director.
“No John it wasn’t me, let me look in the book ….. oh yes, I can see we definitely booked it … give me a few .. I’ll call you back.”
He did. Job done he said. It’s yours. I never found out what happened to the other party … but we at least were organized….
-
Much later than I ever thought.
-
Not in the church I wanted.
-
Not with ‘the family’ pastor
-
No reception in ‘his’ place.
But we were organized … and the drums started to let people know the date, time and place.
It was about a week later that I thought that after the reception I could host a dinner at his favorite Indian Restaurant. A place he’d been going to for years. Great idea … and invited the people I wanted to be included in that night, close friends and family would celebrate his life in his favorite restaurant.
I called the restaurant. A booking for 14 people please. On ……
“Oh I’m so sorry, we are closing for three weeks for a complete refurbishment … could we help you after that … It will all be very very nice.
Thankyou no ….
-
The Church closed for three months.
-
The Restaurant closed for three weeks.
-
The Hotel closed for three days.
Some kind of perfect symmetry.
I still liked the restaurant idea and found an alternative but though he had been there … it wasn’t ‘his’ place.
I recounted the saga to my daughter.
Again - wise beyond her years …
“Dad .. he told you that when he passed he didn’t want a fuss made. He was trying to make sure that you didn’t.”
Read Part Five - The Music.
⚱️
homage to dad
February 3, 2019
The Journey
Time to get on a plane. Well, actually a plane, a couple of trains and a few automobiles.
On a trip like this, I usually book ahead. But not really possible. A few hours ahead isn’t really ‘ahead’.
I packed as I booked the plane.
I decided to hold off on trains - electing to sort it out when I got to the station - and then just get the ‘next one’.
A car picked me up. The plane was on time. The flight was uneventful. Caught the first train and on arrival at the main station, bought my ticket for the long rail journey.
The price reminded me why I book ahead and avoid rush hour. No matter. I looked at the clock. The train was due to leave at 6:00. It was 5:40. Time to get something to eat and drink for the journey. Success. Scurrying across the station towards the train - noting I had 10 minutes left.
I got to the platform and realized that I didn’t know which carriage / seat I was in. I stopped to check. Detail confirmed. I got to the carriage. Got on the train. Parked my case and sat down. I looked at my watch … 5:59 and sure enough, the train gently moved away from the platform.
It was approximately 30 minutes later that the ticket inspector asked for my ticket. I didn’t have it. I searched everywhere. Nada.
“Sorry - no - just a receipt is not enough, you need the actual ticket.”
I couldn’t provide it. I had to buy another one.
It was around 15 minutes later that the call came.
“Sorry. I wanted to let you know that he has passed away. So sorry.”
What time was that? Sorry, we can’t be exactly sure, but it was within a few of minutes of 6:50. (Subsequent conversations and triangulation, leads me to believe that it was actually 6:56)
Who knows the exact time. It doesn’t matter. What I do know that he died just as I lost my train ticket .. for the first time in my life.
I later recounted the story and the coincidence to my daughter.
“Oh Dad … that wasn’t a coincidence … he was just letting you know that he had moved on and there wasn’t a need to rush. You didn’t need a ticket right then. Whenever you got there would have been just fine.”
⚱️
homage to dad
February 2, 2019
The Calls
The First
My mind was spinning. Waking with a start and bells in my head. What are these numbers. I quickly realized it was the phone ringing. The adrenalin kicked in and accepted the call … noting the time … 5:30 am.
“Hello!”
“I know it’s early for you and everything is alright - but we wanted to call, since the doctor is here and you can talk with her directly.”
We did. Nothing really to worry about. Lost a lot of weight, Tired, but with the appropriate medication , everything should be fine.
“OK … thank you.”
“So do you think we should move him to the hospital or keep him here?”
“Well, what do you think?”
“Well of course, it is your choice, but right now, we would not recommend moving him.”
“OK - so let’s not move him.”
Decision made.
Too early to get up. Too late to go back to bed.
The Second
”Just calling to let you know that he is very comfortable and responding nicely to the medication.”
“Thank-you for letting me know.”
The Third
A friend of mine had gone over to see him, and called me so we could ‘FaceTime’ together.
It was a short call. Another decision.
⚱️
homage to dad
February 2, 2019
Every Tuesday a friend in this group puts up a picture against which he invites member to write a story.
This weeks’s picture
The Man | JPhilpin
Nobody quite knew where he came from - or how he got there. But there he was. Every day 11.00 am on the nail. One Espresso, never finished - ever. At 11:30 he would touch his phone for the first time and put it in his pocket without even looking at it. Hat straightened, he would walk off. Where to? Nobody knew. A young kid tried following him a couple of times, and by 11:35, both times lost the trail … in empty streets.
The son of the owner purposefully sat at that table one morning, in ‘his’ seat. As the man walked towards him, he heard a voice behind him asking him to check the kitchen - his dad needed him. He looked at the man. Walking steadily towards him, not even a break in the step. He was 5 steps away from him. NO sound NO voice. Nothing. His dad called again - urgently. He had to go and ran off to the backroom. The man sat down, no words, no hesitation, his Espresso seemingly appearing out of thin air.
The owner wondered why his son had come to the kitchen. The son couldn’t recall.
The dapper hat, the elegant coat - but worn with jeans was the ‘talk’ - except there wasn’t any talk. None. What was there to say?
One day he will share. Until then the Espresso will be enjoyed.
And Then I Got Inspired
I extended the story - writing an opening and closing to the original short form
It was originally published here
Here it is in full.
Michael and Andrew. Two young boys, growing up to be young men in a small midwestern town. School friends. Inseparable. Andrew, the quiet unassuming one. Michael, the ring leader. The fire stoker. They did everything together. Everything. Until they didn’t.
Rita made up the trio. Elegant, beautiful and definitely not a withering flower. She gave it out as quick as she took it. Michael and Andrew were as close as you could get to her. It worked well until early adulthood arrived. And with it the inevitable confusion. Both of the boys started developing ‘feelings’ for Rita. But such good friends. What could they do? And so they did what all young men do when faced with such confusion … nothing.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that Michael and Andrew were leaving the local hardware store when they saw Rita walking – almost skipping – towards them. Both Andrew and Michael looked longingly at her. But Rita didn’t reciprocate. Rather a focus came upon her, walking up to them both and as she moved passed them shouted ‘see you later boys’.
Michael looked at Andrew.
“Later?” He queried. “Have you forgotten our trip tonight?”
He hadn’t. Andrew turned away, muttering that sometimes it was good to do things separately and headed in the direction of his home.
Michael’s gaze followed him and then turned around towards his house. He called Rita. He wanted to ask her if she would like to go to ‘Jack’s’ that evening. Her mother answered.
“Oh – hello Michael – no Rita is not here at the moment, she is in town readying to go out… “ her voice faded away. “Michael – I’ll make sure she calls you when she gets back.”
She did call, but Michael didn’t answer. He was already on the Greyhound heading out to the East Coast.
Michael loved Andrew, Michael loved Rita, he truly wanted the best for them. He couldn’t be in the way. Rita had chosen. He needed to move on. Quickly.
For his part, Andrew was head over heels in love with Rita, which was reciprocated. Their romance led to a short engagement and they were married just a year later. A year after that they were blessed with a baby boy.
They often talked about Michael, reminisced about their times together. They tried to work out where he had gone. How to get in touch with him. Nobody knew. Michael, like Andrew, was an only child his father had died when he was just 12, his mother passed about 6 months after Michael had left town.
Andrew inherited his father’s business. He had trained in the retail space, working in different stores around the town. Once even in a store 20 miles away. But that didn’t work out. So when his father passed at a surprisingly early age, his mother didn’t want to be tied down with the business so Andrew took it over. Working the kitchen whilst Rita managed the business. Perfect really; Rita a superb person for ‘front-of-house’ and Andrew more introverted and reserved, working in ’the-back’. All was well until that fateful day that Rita was ‘diagnosed’.
The news stunned them both. Not to get into the details, it was more than life-threatening, as Andrew ruminated at Rita’s funeral 6 months later. The same church they were married in.
Without his love and his business guide, Andrew thought about selling the café, but couldn’t answer the next question; what would he then do? And so he continued.
When Rita passed, his son was 27. He had graduated from the state university but since then had shown no real enthusiasm or demonstrated any serious aptitude for anything. Andrew knew that he had been the same in his youth. But his son had no Michael or Rita to pull him along. Andrew was honest as to what he needed but closed his mind off as he pushed his son into the role his wife had held for so many years.
Three years later, it wasn’t working out. That much was very clear. The café’s takings were down, the rare and occasional profit was random and Andrew had a hard time seeing the weakness in his son’s skill sets. It had got so bad that Andrew had permanently scared his son out of the kitchens forcing him ‘to focus on customers’.
Not to say that the son didn’t try, he did. But his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t see himself there for the rest of his life ‘Dad2.0’ just wasn’t him.
It was with this backdrop, one bright Monday morning that the stranger first appeared. To begin with, he was totally invisible. A customer who wanted a coffee and this was a café.
After a week of daily visits, same time same table, same order and then a month, same time, same table, same order, he was slowly noticed. Still not known.
Nobody quite knew where he came from – or how he got there. But there he was. Every day 11.00 am on the nail. One Espresso, never finished – ever. At 11:30 he would touch his phone for the first time and put it in his pocket without even looking at it. Hat straightened, he would walk off. Where to? Nobody knew. A young kid tried following him a couple of times, and by 11:35, both times lost the trail … in empty streets.
The son of the owner purposefully sat at that table one morning, in ‘his’ seat. As the man walked towards him, he heard a voice behind him asking him to check the kitchen – his dad needed him. He looked at the man. Walking steadily towards him, not even a break in the step. He was 5 steps away from him. No sound no voice. Nothing. His dad called again – urgently. He had to go and ran off to the backroom. The man sat down, no words, no hesitation, his Espresso seemingly appearing out of thin air.
The owner wondered why his son had come to the kitchen. The son couldn’t recall. The dapper hat, the elegant coat – but worn with jeans was the ‘talk’ – except there wasn’t any talk. None. What was there to say? One day he will share. Until then the Espresso will be enjoyed.
Michael reflected on his life. He had built one of the largest and most successful private businesses in the world. Through his network and partnerships with companies and corporations, he now controlled; vineyards, wineries, high-end restaurants, boutique hotels, resorts, even a few ’chains’. And … in his network of businesses he had the best chefs, sommeliers, wine makers, growers, concierges, lawyers, receptionists, marketers … wherever you looked in any of the businesses, ‘his’ people were always the best.
Many of his advisors told him that he should ‘go public’. But Michael wasn’t interested. He enjoyed his anonymity.
GO PUBLIC AND THE MARKET WILL JUDGE YOU BY REVENUE AND PROFIT EVERY QUARTER. THE INVESTORS WILL BE PEOPLE THAT SIMPLY WANT TO EARN A RETURN ON THEIR DOLLARS. REVENUE AND PROFIT ARE OUTCOMES OF BUSINESS, NOT DRIVERS. A GOOD BUSINESS MEASURES AND MANAGES TRUST, REPUTATION, AND QUALITY.
Nobody knew exactly how many restaurants or even businesses ‘RAM Incorporated’ owned, Michael did. Nor did they know the total revenues or profits, Michael did. Or even where exactly RAM was incorporated, Michael did. They didn’t even know where the name ‘RAM Incorporated’ came from. In the early days, when the growth was meteoric, it was assumed that it was a twist on ‘BULL’, as in ‘bull market’, but without the associated ‘BS’ baggage. Later through one of his tax filings, someone discovered that it was an acronym … ‘Real – Asset – Management’ they surmised; since it was clear Michael had a unique perspective on Asset Management and the ‘Real’ was a clever double entendre on ‘Realty’ – a cornerstone of the business capitalization.
The reality? Michael never understood why businesses described their ‘people as their greatest asset’ and then utilized ‘mushroom management’ while classing them as ‘liabilities’ in the accounts. He knew that ‘Real Asset Management’ was nothing to do with realty and everything to do with reality – getting the best out of his real assets – the people he worked with.
He built his business through keen observation and the never swerving principle of ‘people first’. He knew that it didn’t matter how good the chef, the concierge, the accountant … anyone could be, if they were not in love with what they did, were trusted, and allowed to do and be their best, they wouldn’t be. ‘People First’ was the first and only law in any of his projects and how he engaged with any business that joined the RAM family.
In six months he had learned that this business could be made successful. Actually, he knew it, because he knew that the once very successful business had been failing since the owner’s wife had died 3 years ago. Proof again – it’s about people. But he could see that the current front office manager’s heart wasn’t in it. Again – he knew it, even before he sat down at the table and had his that first Espresso. He knew a lot. That was his job.
He knew that his old friend Andrew had married his old friend Rita and that this young man was their son. He knew that the son was also called Andrew, was 30 years old and though a business graduate with middling grades still had no direction. He recognized his friend Andrew in the young man. The acorn never falls far from the tree. He knew that like his father, he was a back room guy that needed to find his way naturally. He knew all of this before that first Espresso. The six months since was applying his personal methodology of observational analysis.
And here he was. Sometimes you can get too close. Know too much to make the right decision. He stood up and walked away. He’ll come back tomorrow and watch and think some more and decide whether an approach should be made for the cafe to become part of ‘Rita, Andrew and Michael Incorporated’.
📜
observations
February 1, 2019
The Dream
I rarely dream. Well to be more accurate, I rarely recall dreams. I wake up and maybe I can remember a little of what was going on … but on the whole not much connects my unconscious world with my conscious.
It was six weeks ago. This one was vivid. I woke up with it spinning in my head. I recalled it instantly. It is still here.
I was playing with numbers …. 54, 52, 51, 63, 58, 65, 64, 50, 54 … (sic)
I was attempting to understand what they meant. My challenge was to connect them, extract meaning. I multiplied them together. Nothing. I added them together. Nada. I tried to build a logical sequence. Zippo. Calculations running through my head. What did they mean? Was it a sequence? If so what is the next number?
It was a puzzler … but I love those kinds of puzzles. They’re in my blood.
I finally got the answer.
⚱️
homage to dad
January 29, 2019
What’s In A Name?
California was named after a mythical island of black women who kept man-eating griffins as pets.
”No one knows for certain why Montalvo chose the names, but some historians believe he was inspired by the Arabic word caliph, or ruler.”
Given the little we in the West understand the term ‘caliphate’, I do find this interesting … particularly since how caliphate like areas of CA have become … entertainment, technology, software, liberal thinking …. not always for the better good of all … but then neither is a caliphate.
around.the.world
January 28, 2019
Tangential … or Random
Either way, I think there is a connection,
I read this and wondered .. do I care? Rich dudes who are ready to be suckered in to buying something that they can’t even understand - much less enjoy.
Tangentially I was reminded of a tweet a few months ago ….
“If someone without your education that doesn’t know your language and has none of your connections can take your job … you deserve to lose it.
As I said - tangential - but I think the two scenarios are connected with a foundation of assumption, laziness, arrogance and entitlement.
observations
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