Month: January 2024

My favorite furball

One of my earliest memories was of the day we went to adopt who would become my best friend in the world. Not to put too fine a point on it, but there were times when he was my only friend. He was very hairy, didn’t say much, and smelled awful when he was wet. But he was a great listener. I suppose that’s par for the course for a Brittany Springer Spaniel.

I don’t remember everything about the day but the important details come to mind. I think I was 4 years old. I remember it was a very long drive. I also remember a long dirt driveway and the dust our big Ford truck kicked up. I remember there were many dogs running off-leash inside a fenced-in area, which is my true idea of what heaven must look like. I remember my Mother calling it the “Daisy Hill Puppy Farm”, an homage to The Peanuts, and the origin story of my favorite cartoon character Snoopy. Incidentally, Snoopy was introduced to the world 3 months before I was born.

I was playing with the dogs. Even to this day, if I’m in a room withI’m not even sure I knew why we were there, it was a regular occurrence to get in the car and just go somewhere. My Dad knew so many people, I stopped asking questions and got in the car when he said “Let’s go for a ride”. So up until the moment when they came over to me with a beautiful brown and white Spaniel with kind eyes, I wasn’t aware that we were leaving with a dog. It was all a big surprise.

We gave him the name Friskie. I think there was a dog food of that name. It was a fine name for him. He immediately became my friend, my ear and shoulder, and my companion. Wherever I went on foot, he would be right next to me. When I wasn’t home, he would be perched in his favorite spot, on top of the concrete stairs at the front door. Most days, when I came home from school, I would find him there, tail thumping excitedly on the concrete, his full attention on me. It makes me sad to think of the times, and they were often, that I would walk by him without acknowledging him as I dealt with whatever childhood and then teen angst that was bothering me. He always forgave me and got some good head scratches in return. If only I had known back then that while my life had many aspects to it, Friskie only had one. My family.

Not long after we adopted him, I learned why (as well as a 5-year-old can know about purebreds) a valuable Hunting Dog with a documented pedigree (papers) was at a shelter and not by the side of a hunter. As a pup, for some reason, he became afraid of loud noises. He was gun-shy. This rendered him useless as a Bird Dog (Brittany Springer Spaniels are class A bird dogs) and he was placed for adoption.  I do not know if my parents knew this when they adopted him, I would like to believe the shelter told them, but even if they did there could have been no way to be prepared for the first Thunderstorm or Fireworks. It was heartbreaking, no other word can come close, to see the terrified look in his eyes. The friendly sparkle in his eyes was replaced by abject terror and he was inconsolable. Many a 4th of July and weather event was spent holding him down with blankets and consoling him. One of the biggest arguments my dad ever had with a neighbor was over his use of a miniature Cannon on the 4th. My father asked him nicely to stop and the neighbor said “The hell with you, it’s just a dog” and thus ensued a feud that would span years.

Except for his crippling fear of loud noises, he was as good a family pet as anyone could ever hope for. He was loyal, playful, loving, and a part of the family in every possible way. He was also smart. Very smart. He picked up on verbal cues, knew an impressive amount of commands, as well as intuitive when it was required of him to be a support system. If you were down, he was lying next to you. If you pushed him away, he would sit before you and put his head on your lap. As a messed-up kid, and then teenager, our routine was that he would lie on his side and I would lay my head on him. I spent many hours with my Friskie pillow and I will always love him for that.

That, and one other small incident.

I lived on a busy street that led to the Middle and High School. Cars and School buses raced up and down it all day. Mostly on the way down. There was no fence on the edge of my yard. Friskie never went far and knew what cars were. As for me, I also knew what a fast-moving Chevy would do to me. 

And then one day I didn’t. 

The neighbor kid across the street called for me to come over. Friskie was across the street, sitting and watching me. The neighbor kid’s dog was trying to get Friskie to play with him but his eyes were on me. For some reason, I stepped off the curb to walk across the street. Unaware of the School Bus coming down the hill and bearing down on me. As I stepped off the curb Friskie bolted towards me. He barely escaped being hit by a car but he never flinched. Three-quarters of the way across the road he launched himself mid-air and tackled me, knocking me back into my yard. The bus missed us by no more than 2 feet. I was too shaken up to move, but several cars stopped to make sure I was ok. And every one of them patted my amazing best friend on his head and told him what an amazing boy he was. 

He was just that. He was an amazing boy. I was fortunate enough to have him with us until I was a Junior in High School. Even as he slowed down, a stroke had taken a lot from his mobility, he had that twinkle in his eye and he remained a wonderful pillow when I was sad. 

I will never forget the Summer day when I drove to the family camp in NH to meet up with the family. When I pulled into the campsite, Mom and Dad were sitting on the edge of the deck waiting for me. I got out of my car, greeted them, and immediately asked where the good boy who normally sat next to them waiting for me was. Their faces said it all. I sat down in silence and cried, one of the few times that I have done that. I was happy that he wasn’t suffering, he had had another stroke, I was just sad for me. I didn’t get to say goodbye to the best friend I ever had. 40 years later, I still cannot think about that day without a tear forming. 

He is buried in a plot of land owned by the Animal Hospital that put him down. I drive by it once in a while. Sometimes my destination demands it. Other times I drive by it on purpose. Every time, the memories of my Good Boy come to me. I suppose that as long as I live, I will continue to do so.

Where are the shovels?

Helicopter parenting has reached a new level.

The other day I read a fascinating, yet disturbing study. According to a survey conducted by Intelligent, an online magazine focused on student life, 19% of Gen Z job seekers have brought their parents to job interviews.
While I can certainly understand that jobseekers may feel nervous or anxious during interviews, bringing parents to job interviews is generally perceived as unprofessional and, dare I say, immature. It may reflect poorly on the jobseeker’s preparedness and independence.
Isn’t it important for job seekers to demonstrate their ability to work independently and make decisions on their own? A job is a rite of passage, and every job you take, and the hopefully increased responsibilities earned through accumulated experience makes you a stronger and more capable employer. While I can only speak for myself, I know that starting a new job can be overwhelming and even terrifying, but employers know that and it is all a test of your resolve and dedication to growing professionally. Everything is a test. Bringing Mommy to the interview is not going to help you pass it.

Not shockingly, 39% of employers admitted going above and beyond to not hire recent college graduates for roles they are qualified for in favor of older workers, a new survey found.
The survey uncovered many reasons why older applicants are preferred — in addition to Gen Z jobseekers bringing mom and dad to interviews.
One in five employers say that recent college graduates are “unprepared” for interviews — and are often unprofessional.
Fifty-three percent of employers surveyed said that recent college graduates struggle with eye contact.
50% said they ask for unreasonable compensation.
47% said they don’t dress appropriately for interviews.
21% said they refuse to turn their cameras on for virtual interviews.
Additionally, 61% said they are frequently late to work.
59% claimed they often miss deadlines.
53% noted that they are frequently late to meetings.

Diane M. Gayeski, a professor of strategic communications at Ithaca College, suggested that these behaviors aren’t entirely their fault — a lot of it is circumstantial. Personally, I do give some leeway to the COVID epidemic and the impact it had on Education and socialization in general. But it started much farther back. I need to look no further than my own childhood compared to how I raised my own kids.
I am Gen X. We were named that because they didn’t know what to call us. We defied all definition. We were tough, resourceful and resilient. We were latchkey kids. Some of us raised ourselves. We were always outside.We knew how to fight, and how to deal with it when we lost. We learned to stand up for ourselves because nobody else would. We were taught that lessons came from Black eyes, skinned knees and hurt feelings. We learned how to work. That having a job sucked but if you wanted money you had better have one. Our parents prepared us for life. They told us that life is tough, cruel, merciless, and unfair but to go and make the most of it. And we did. Our parents were there for us, but they were not our friends.
Fast forward to today. Years of “Participation trophies”, and countless campaigns designed to not make anyone feel bad, combined with Parents who somehow are afraid to discipline their children and instead want to be their friends. Parents schedule and plan “Play-dates” instead of letting their kids learn how to make friends.
If I could pick one thing that has derailed today’s youth to the point of no return; parents refuse to let their kids fail at anything. Nothing teaches you more than failure does. The lessons and accompanying wisdom gained can only come from disappointment, embarrassment, and heartbreak. It can’t be presumed, imitated, intimated, or faked. In order to rise strong from the ashes, you must first crash to the ground. I understand that it is happening out of love, but no matter how you slice it, sheltering children from the world will only make them reluctant and unprepared to enter it.

The study further found the following, all of which demonstrate the damage done by not teaching our kids old-fashioned concepts such as promptness, dressing well, making eye contact and having a firm handshake, and of possessing strong communication skills. Think they’re outdated, old-fashioned and irrelevant? Not to employers. Here are the employer observations on Gen Z attitudes.

Fifty-eight percent said Gen Z jobseekers get offended too easily and are unprepared for the workforce in general.
63% said they are entitled.
57% believed they lack professionalism.
55% said they don’t respond well to constructive feedback.
52% claimed they have poor communication skills.
Of those surveyed, 47% admitted that they had fired a recent college graduate.
46% even said they are willing to hire an older employee who is overqualified for the job just to avoid working with someone younger.
The list of reasons these hiring professionals gave for avoiding Gen Z hires is a long one.

Here is one great example of the difference between Gen X and today. If you live in an area that sees snow in the Winter, ask yourself how many kids do you see with shovels during a snowstorm hustling to make money off of their neighbors? If not, substitute pushing a lawnmower?
Almost none.
The ability to recognize opportunity, financial or otherwise is critical. Being willing to work for it is increasingly rare. It isn’t about money, it’s about being resourceful and the independence that earning your own money gives you. I don’t believe our youth understands the difference between expecting and taking vs earning. It is part of becoming an adult, in an age of perpetual childhood.

My first job

When I was in High School everyone I knew had a job. With rare exceptions, parents of Gen-X kids like myself tended to respond to requests for money with the well-worn phrase, “Get a job.” Now, I can only speak for my little corner of the world, a small Middle-to lower-middle-class town in Eastern Massachusetts. Still, my understanding was that when it came to giving money to your kids it wasn’t about whether it was affordable to the parent. It was about teaching valuable lessons, primarily the value of money and the sense of accomplishment that comes with a paycheck in exchange for honest work.

I, like many of my friends, received an allowance from my parents. It was a mere pittance, enough for a young man to be able to afford to go to the local store and get a candy bar and a soda a few times a week. Looking back, it was laughable how little it was, even when adjusted for today’s value. But it was something. Looking back, I can immediately recognize that one thing a meager allowance taught me was how to budget. As much as I may have learned about budgeting. I can’t say I practiced it very well. I could never live on my allowance.

Fortunately, what I lacked in money management skills, I compensated with a work ethic. I had an amazing role model in my father in many aspects; honesty, accountability, eye contact and a firm handshake, and to always be kind and respectful. But there was one area where Dad simply excelled, to the point in which I was in awe of him, and that was his unfaltering work ethic. One of my earliest memories is of waking up at 4 AM to relieve myself, only to find Dad shaving for work. He left the house at 4:30 every day and in the winter months (he delivered home heating oil) he wouldn’t be home until 6 or 7 most nights. He would come in, exhausted and cold, to a hot dinner waiting for him, the biggest piece of steak or chicken reserved for him. He would shove it down and then begin working on the house, which was under construction from my earliest memory. He would go to bed after me. On the weekends, whatever chores needed to be done he would tackle as soon as he got up. The man didn’t know how to procrastinate.

I did. But I learned how to overcome that because I could not, once I was old enough to be of use, sit and watch the man I admired most in the world, work his ass off to provide for me and not help. So I learned how to cut grass. I worked out by chopping firewood. I shoveled the driveway. I even held the flashlight as he toiled under the hood of his always broken-down truck. Beyond the pleasure of just being around him, holding the flashlight proved to enhance my vocabulary because the expletives FLEW when I didn’t point it in the right area or dropped a wrench.

One day, when I was 11, we were in Sears Roebuck. We were in the tool section and I was waiting for Dad to select another tool that he already had several of. It was his process. A shiny new socket set made him happy and who was I to stand in his way? As we were leaving the store we walked by a beautiful 10-speed bike on display. At the time, the 10-speed bike was all the rage and I wanted one. I showed my Dad the price tag. 94 Dollars. He smiled and motioned for me to go. In the car, he finally spoke.

“I could buy that bike for you, but I don’t want to.” I asked him why.

“Because you’ll like and appreciate it more if you buy it.”

“With what?”, I asked him.

“Your earnings. Go out and knock on some doors. Half of our neighborhood is elderly, I guarantee that they would pay you to mow their lawns and shovel their driveways and whatnot. Buy it with money earned and you will appreciate that bike and take care of it and you’ll have it forever. Not leave it out in the rain like your friends do. It’s different when you earn it, Bill.”

I will never, ever forget that moment.

He offered our lawnmower for me to use, and I would pay the gas. I jumped at the opportunity.

In the 70’s the sight of young people dragging snow shovels down streets in the wake of big storms was a common sight. Kids were industrious, even competitive and fought to earn and keep customers. Some customers were loyal regulars, others would give the work to whoever rang the bell first. I was one of the only kids in my neighborhood that was willing to work. Don’t think I didn’t take advantage of that. I had a slew of loyal neighbors that were waiting to give me money. It wasn’t much money by today’s standards but it was consistent and, as my father had suggested, it felt like a treasure because I had earned it.

Approximately 4 months later my Dad asked me how much money I had. Now, I hadn’t saved everything I had earned. It was a new experience to me to have money so I bought a few things, went out for subs with my friends, etc. But I had saved $80.00. I showed it to him.

“Get your shoes on, and fold that money into a neat roll. We’re going out.”

“Where are we going?”, I asked as I climbed into his truck.

“You’ll see”, he said.

As it turned out, we were going to Sears and Roebuck. I followed him to the Sporting Goods section. He asked the clerk for the assembled bike on display, amazingly it was the same one, and told him that we would be purchasing it. He turned to me with open hand and motioned for me to hand over the money I had in my pocket. The clerk gave him the total and my Dad reached into his pocket and plucked the differential out of a roll of bills. Not wanting to spoil the moment, I didn’t say anything. We walked the bike out of the store, he carefully placed it in the back, and we drove out of the parking lot. Finally, I said,”Thanks Dad, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure I did”, he said. I pointed you in the right direction but you did the work. I could have waited until you had all of it but it was never about the money. It’s about appreciating what you have and every time you ride that bike you’ll think about the sweat and back-breaking work you did to buy it.”

I had that bike for 10 years. I sold it in near-perfect condition at a yard sale.

I would go on to earn enough to buy 10 bikes as I became the neighborhood odd jobs kid. Even when other kids caught on to what I was doing, many of my regulars turned them away. They got what I didn’t want. This would continue until I got my first “real job” bagging groceries at a local supermarket.

Interestingly, I now run a small side business that consists mostly of locals who loyally retain my services and feel compelled to recommend me to whoever they meet.

I’m ready

At one point in life, there is that moment in which one must reconcile what they are versus what they think they are. I have had more than one such moment, but yesterday I arrived at one of my more painful but necessary epiphanies; I have limitations that I must own up to and embrace.

After a series of brief bouts of employment that all ended with my leaving due to illness or fatigue, I recognized that I have been trying to do things that my physical condition simply will not allow. To be precise, I am on Disability for a reason and it’s time that I own that.

Disability, as does Social Security, allows recipients to work on a limited income basis. If earnings do not exceed a designated level, you can keep your benefits without penalty. It is not a lot of money but it does make a difference. To me, the ability to work part-time provided more than additional income, it allowed me to feel useful and accomplished, even if to a lesser degree. Before I became sick the second time, I had a meaningful job with great responsibility, the ability to help people, and very lucrative compensation. I went from that to being unemployed, living in a small town with my mother, and nobody needing me for much of anything. I hated it, I lacked relevance. Work has always defined me to a degree, and it left me with a void.
Once I was able to return to part-time work post-transplant, I was excited. Unfortunately, what followed was my enthusiastically accepting positions that, had I thought deeply before accepting, ended in disappointment as I was forced time and time again to quit due to health reasons. Primarily, my compromised immune system caused me to get sick frequently and profoundly. But instead of realizing the problem at hand, that I need to have realistic expectations about what I am capable of doing in my current condition, I instead beat myself up about being a quitter.
It took too long, but I finally realized I needed to accept that I have limitations. And that’s ok.

If I can find work that is appropriate for me, unfortunately I think that means not being around a lot of people, then I will pursue that. Otherwise, I am going to graciously accept the help from Disability and focus on what makes me happy. And to not feel bad about it.

This is my chance to do what makes me happy. I will find my relevance in doing some good, I want to get more involved in Masonry, The Shriners and my motorcycle club. Charity and volunteerism is good for my soul and I can never do too much of it. I want to enjoy the Granddaughter that will arrive in April. I want to exercise more and be outside as often as possible. I have never given myself permission to do one thing in my life and it is time; I need to let go and just see where things take me and stop trying to control everything.

I need to do this. I need to take the limited time I have left and find my true calling in life. I’m fortunate and blessed enough to know that I may have several callings, now it is time to immerse myself in one or all of them.

Of all of the elements of this epiphany, one stands taller than the rest. It is definitely time that I gave myself a break. For once. It will be a record change of pace.

Calling the Universe, I’m ready so please show me the way. I’m ready.

It’s on all of us

We can ride the wave of “renewal”, “rebirth”, and “fresh starts” that the New Year brings for as long as it feels good, but 2024 looks to be more of the same. I know I’m a buzzkill but someone needs to say it and doing so on January 2nd is fair. The hangovers are gone, the celebrations have subsided, many resolutions have already fallen by the roadside and, with the possible exception of writing the wrong year on a few checks, nothing has changed by opening a fresh new calendar. 

Change does not just happen, it is only possible through analysis, facing hard truths, and creating an action plan. It requires sacrifice and work, from all of us.

Here is my master list of resolutions that I wish for all Americans in the coming year. If we do these things, we can make 2024 the year that we turn things around in this country. If we do not, the chaos, uncertainty and needless descent into third world status is virtually inevitable.

Question everything. Ask questions. Take the time to learn for yourself. We all have in our pocket, most likely our hand, access to all of the information ever recorded. That cell phone does more than surf social media, text and take selfies. Anyone can educate themselves, and if nothing else never espouse an opinion or sound bite unless you have asked yourself the critical question, “Is it true?”

Understand that our elected officials are not our leaders. They are our chosen representatives. They may act as if they were coronated and can impose their will over you, but they aren’t. Ask yourself if that person represents you and what you stand for. If they do not, vote them out. Don’t just accept the treachery and betrayal that Washington has routinely subjected you to for decades.

Understand that we are unnecessarily divided. When people come together, the will of the people will prevail. A government that does not have your best interest at heart wants us divided. Recognize that we are being subjected to Propaganda, the role of which is to make one group of people seem less than human. Decency and empathy should tell us that we need to look at what we have in common, not what makes us different. Fire ants and black ants can be in the same jar and coexist. Until someone shakes the jar, then they fight. We’re the ants, ask yourself who is shaking the jar.

Stop thinking that it is someone else’s responsibility to get involved and fix things. It is on all of us to make a change. Think about elections. If you have determined that your candidate cannot win and you decide to not go out and vote, think about how many others (millions?) feel the same way. If all of you turned out to vote, your guy may win. It is up to all of us to cause change. Not just in politics, you can also say hi to a random stranger. You might make their day, or even restore their faith in humanity on the worst day of their lives. A pebble causes a ripple effect, kindness does as well.

Take back our children. We need to stop allowing Social media and television to raise our kids. This also applies to schools. It is not the job of the teacher to raise our children, it is their job to teach them. Insist that schools create and follow age-appropriate curriculums, void of political agendas, and focus on how to think critically, not just how to take a standardized test.

Our society is at a critical point and we have all of the power to save ourselves. I hope that we find that power within us and exercise it with enthusiasm. The United States is a unique experiment that has faith in the people to govern themselves and determine our own future. As citizens of this great experiment, we have lost sight of this. There is no guarantee that it will last forever, it needs to be maintained, even fought for. It is on all of us to do so.

Let’s start acting like everything is on the line. Because it is.