Wednesday
03Feb2010

The Family We Have

When I hold my daughter, I sometimes find myself quickly thinking about what she'll be like when she's 8. Or 25. Or 74. I don't want her to grow up overnight, but I'm a curious guy, easily wondering what kind of job she'll have, music she'll like, or idiosyncrasies she'll hate.

This the beauty of parenthood: you can look forward into oblivion, long past even your own lifetime on earth. The curse of childhood, even when you're old enough to have your own tangible dreams, is that you really can only look back at where you've been. Of course, it's always easier to plan someone else's future.

As I plan the rest of my daughter's life, I also think about the things beyond her control: her skin color, her gender, where she may live, and of course, who her parents are.

Try as hard as we might, none of us got to pick our parents. In the grand cosmic lottery, tickets were assigned and we were born. Some of us were big winners, and others of us were horrific losers. We can pick our friends, our co-workers, our spouses, and our neighbors, but no one auditioned to be our parent.

And this is the circumstance of family. Some of us don't get the family we want. Some of us don't get the family we deserve. But we all get the family we have. When we end up where we're going, we'll be able to speak of them using the phrase, "because of," "in spite of," "despite," or "against the best wishes and plans of." As our journeys unfold, the role of our families materializes - again - nearly beyond our control.

The role of parents, then, isn't so much to look ahead and draw a map for our children. Rather, it's to give them a compass. By allowing them to chart their own course and giving them the necessary travel tools and tips to get where they're headed, we'll get to play a part far deeper and more meaningful than the one random chance assigned us. Then they can one day talk about us with the phrase, "without whom none of this would be possible..." as they discuss where they've been.

Tuesday
02Feb2010

68-Word Book Review: What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell

Coming February 15-19: It's Book Week at my blog. I read a lot of books and try to review one each week. During that week, I'll be featuring a new book each day with a giveaway! Interested in participating? Send me an email and see if you can be featured!

Short version (68 words)

What the Dog Saw will make you smarter, if you're dumb enough to buy it. Malcolm Gladwell's essays are easily readable and he presents his conclusions in a very compelling way. But, they're all available on his Web site. For free. I'm smart enough to figure that out, but I still bought the book. And this paradox is just the kind of thing he'd write about. Go figure.

Long version (218 words)

Malcolm Gladwell tackles topics that we rarely think about, but that influence us all, nearly on a daily basis. The Tipping Point and Outliers are prime examples of his astute observational brilliance, and each essay in this volume – which ran at some point in The New Yorker – uncovers another topic that we weren't aware was all around us.

He talks about why criminal profilers are just like fortunetellers. He discusses what makes dog trainers so good. He details why genius seems to strike late in life for some. You'll learn why ketchup is not a diversified condiment. And you'll also see how we could end homelessness if we doled out aid unfairly.

Each essay is easily and quickly readable and deeply engaging, the kind of stuff you'll find yourself reading in the bathroom long after you're finished with your business there. You'll also want to sneak in as much of each chapter as you can during commercial breaks or while waiting in the doctor's office.

Ultimately, it's up to you if you want to save money by digging everything up online, or if you prefer to have them all bound in one volume. I chose the latter and then promptly passed it on to someone else who will no doubt be fascinated by Gladwell's look at the everyday.

Monday
01Feb2010

This Year I Will Live Differently

The current economic malaise has changed people. As a country, Americans are saving more and spending less. When they do spend money, they're seriously thinking about creating experiences or memories rather than buying more crap for a house that's probably too big. This blog post at Alice.com highlights that.

Motivated by the movie Up in the Air, frequent traveler Peter Shankman decided to simplify his life. He wants less clutter.

I don't know how your new year's resolutions have been going (or went), but I get the sneaking suspicion that 2010 may very well be the year that all of us kicked the sh*t out of our lives. This could be the year we realize what's truly important and get rid of what we don't need.

Whether it was a layoff or gas prices creeping higher, a spiritual revelation or a sober assessment of what matters, I'm willing to bet that at some point in the last 12 months, you've decided to live differently. Maybe you read a Michael Pollan book or decided to take a look at your (plummeting) 401k. Perhaps you decided that stopping at Starbucks every morning really didn't do anything for you or there was no good reason you bought an entire CD each time you wanted to hear a certain song.

External forces (bosses, the stock market, the housing slump) joined up with internal forces (your emotions, a religious motivation, personal priorities) to bring you to a place where you decided you didn't need it any more. You didn't need 18 pairs of pants. There's no reason to pay for cable when you watch everything on Hulu. Who needs entire albums when there's Pandora?

What would happen if you sold all your books and had $300 in your pocket? How much could you save by lowering your thermostat? What if you rented your house? Sold your car and took the bus because 90% of where you need to drive is accesible by public transportation? Spent less on groceries by finding online coupons? Went for a walk instead of ran on a treadmill at a gym?

What if you rediscovered yourself by getting rid of everything you thought you needed to define you? What if you connected better face-to-face and signed off of Twitter for a week? Is this the year you decide you'd rather stay in close connection with a dozen friends instead of knowing only a sliver of the lives of 600? Maybe you'll leave your cell phone in your car at dinner next week and amaze yourself at how free you are to talk when you're not looking down every eight minutes to see if someone emailed you.

The very dirty trick is that gadgets, things, and the notion of ownership imply that they will let us be free - free to save time and do what we love. But in the end, nearly always, we find ourselves trapped by the things we buy, indebted to a life of jobs we hate and obligations we loathe in order to afford a life we think we want.

If you haven't been in a place like this, I don't know what external or internal factor will bring you there. I only know that when you face that opportunity, you'll live like you never have before.

Friday
29Jan2010

On Fridays, I'm with Alice

On Fridays (unless I forget or am too lazy), I'll be posting on things daddy-related at Alice.com's blog.

Today, I talk about how when I brought a baby home, I also opened the door to more hand sanitizer than I'll ever use - even if we decided to go all Duggar-style all of a sudden.

Read the whole thing here: My Wife Had a Baby and I Got Hand Sanitizer

By the way, Alice.com is awesome. You can order all of your household goods online, skipping trips to the store entirely. Try it out by clicking here.

Thursday
28Jan2010

Taking Risks and Finding a Partner

Earlier this week, I read Bill Gates' annual letter that details his foundation's work over the past year. While lengthy, it's worth reading if you're interested in innovation in the nonprofit space, especially as it relates to human services and health.

What struck me most, however, wasn't the bold claims about eradicating polio or malaria, or how teachers are being evaluated in our new digital world. Rather, I was struck by two paragraphs detailing Gates' overall approach.

The first is on page two:

Melinda and I see our foundation's key role as investing in innovations that would not otherwise be funded. This draws not only on our backgrounds in technology but also on the foundation's size and ability to take a long-term view and take large risks on new approaches. Warren Buffett put it well in 2006 when he told us, "Don't just go for safe projects. You can bat a thousand in this game if you want to by doing nothing important. Or you'll bat something less than that if you take on the really tough problems."

Not everyone has a direct line to Warren Buffet, but now we all have an indirect one to him. It's important that we take risks and not play it safe. Often times in nonprofit work, we go for the safe option, not wanting to disappoint donors. Rather, we should take calculated risks, like venture capital firms. We should do our research and shoot for the moon, knowing that not everything has to pay off. Those that do pay off big and save millions of lives (in the Gates Foundation's case). Those that don't allow us to learn what doesn't work and keep moving forward. What risks does your organization take?

The second item of note is on the next page. Gates writes:

Melinda has a particular interest in this area [childhood health] and has several trips planned for 2010 to see these projects. Our working partnership makes it very comfortable for one of us to focus more intently on a particular area but always share what is being learned so we can work together in figuring out how it should fit into the overall strategy. I've always had a strong partner in the work I have done. In the early days of Microsoft it was Paul Allen, and in the later days it was Steve Ballmer. Although some people don't need this kind of partnership, I have found that only when I have a partner who knows my strengths and weaknesses can we together have the confidence to take on projects that take a long time and are high risk. When one of us is being overly pessimistic or optimistic, the other can provide a balanced view.

Here Gates reminds us of the need to not go it alone. His partner in philanthropy - his wife - makes his work better, just as his partners in business do. Partners, whether romantic or platonic or professional, allow us to be our beest selves by reminding us who we are, what we're great at, and what we can't do. While rags-to-riches stories and the life of solopreneurs can be glamorous, they are rarely true. Partnerships move the world forward. Be a part of one.

The nonprofit world is in desperate need of collaboration. Competition exists there, just as it does in the corporate world. But when we begin to share our power and pool our resources, the winners are those that we serve.

Perhaps it's time we asked the "How can I help?" question to our own organizations and took the right risks while building the right partnerships.