Time Choices

6a00d83452989a69e2010535555f25970b-800wiHey Kids,

Does every minute count?

I think it does.

Do I always act like it?

Nope.

Should I?

Yes I should.

Yesterday, I spoke of time being our most precious commodity. And yet, I seem to be willing to treat it like it’s free and unlimited. That there will always be time to do what I need to do later. That needs to change.

It doesn’t mean that my life has to be a constant stress but it merits some design and planning. There’s a lot of work to be done and if the work is done and/or there’s a design in place, it’s ok to use some of it on frivolous things occasionally.

I need to make sure I choose how to spend each minute, decide for myself if the choices I make move me towards or away from my goals.

My biggest goal is to be happy, to be proud of who I am and what I’ve accomplished. I owe myself some effort and discipline to realize it.

Money will come and go. Time, however, is finite. It comes and it’s gone. And what’s worse, we have no idea how much will actually come our way.

Make the minutes count because they are counting down, and there’s no refund.

 

Day 127

Love at Next Sight

Hey Kids,

I fell in love today.

My new love?

Huntsville, Utah.4th-of-july-at-texas

In the midst of a Hell’s Hot Saturday, we decided to hop on the bike and head up into the middle of the mountains to the little town in the middle of a lake (on a peninsula). And in the middle of this town is a restaurant that sells pieces of heaven called Texas Barbeque (speaking of Hell’s Hot) in the middle of tall shade trees, large lawns, and historic buildings.

IMG_20150627_132229We sat outside under the tall shade trees, systematically trying every part of our Texas Sampler. The heat of the day disappeared with the cool breezes weaving their way to our table. We thought it couldn’t get any better. Then,

The store next store sells shakes. Need I really explain anything beyond that?

Huntsville is my new favorite place.

Again.

I’ve been before. But every time I go there, it’s like I fall in love all over again.

And I’m sure I will again.

 

Day 124

200 Mile Therapy

Hey Kids,

The job has been disappointing and stressful as a managerial decision has been made to appease a few, upsetting the many. It’s difficult to console the ones felt slighted by policy shift. It’s difficult to listen to an employee who feels that their work efforts and ownership in their workspace has been nullified in order to satisfy a check box.

Difficult especially because I agree with them. IMG_20150606_161116_861

So to let off some of that built up frustration, I loaded onto the bike and put a little over 200 miles behind me this afternoon.

The hot temps of the daytime melted away the worries, even if temporarily, and the evening shadows cooled the soul.

The sticky bug guts on my arm will require a shower then I’m ready to get back to it tomorrow.

 

Day 122

Freely Walking

Hey Kids,

Walking in step is something in which I have always had my struggles.

It’s not that I don’t want to, at times I desperately long for that ability, but I just can’t.

I was raised in a belief system that requires line-stepping, but I was also raised with a core belief that nothing is more valuable than individual freedom.image9

I have always lived in the city, but always surrounded by and drawn to wide open spaces.

I’ve always had a job that paid by the hour, yet always been empowered and expected to think on my feet, to improvise, and to “make it work”.

I’m a blue collar man working within a white collar institution.

I’ve led my crews by allowing my staff to show me the better ways.

Alas, I feel like I have finally been trapped in the corner I feared.

Do I now forcibly walk in step? Or do I defend my individualism?

I already know what way my spirit will demand.

I pray I have the strength to know and do what’s right for all.

 

Day 119

Father’s Day 2015

father_s-day-picturesHey Kids,

Father’s Day.

A day set aside to celebrate those dad’s out there.

I spent today visiting with my dad. We didn’t talk too much about being a dad but we didn’t have to. Spending time together kind of says it for us.

I saw the building projects he’s working on, we reminisced of our time shared in Alaska, and I hung out with him at the grill while he cooked hamburgers and hotdogs.

I brought him a new fishing rod- a hint that we should go fishing soon. He seemed pleased.

My dad has taught me a lot through the years. The most important being the importance of work, sucking it up, and getting it done.

And don’t be a cry baby about it.

I don’t have anything profound to sum it all up, but it’s Father’s Day dad; I hope you had a good one and I hope we share a fair amount more of them in the future.

 

Day 118

The Long Way to Work

Hey Kids,

Working on Saturday isn’t right. It just isn’t. At least not when it’s for someone else.

Looking over the needs for next week, I came to the conclusion, I needed to come in to work today so to avoid total disaster on Monday. It’s a grown up thing I think. I hate being a grown-up.

However, I learned last week that a working B-17 bomber from WWII would be in a town not too far from here.

Usually it’s a 10 mile ride to work. A quick zip around the hill, buzz by the Capitol building and straight up the hill to the University. Easy and quick.

Not today!

My commute on this day would lead me onto a beautiful morning drive up into the mountains, past Park City, one of the venues for the winter games, cruising past

WWII B-17 Bomber

WWII B-17 Bomber “Sentimental Journey”

lakes and rivers, and on to Heber City and its small private plane airport. About 60 miles total.

I’ve seen a B-17 before, but I’ve never seen a working one. I watched it fire up its four engines, coughing out smoke and flames. I took in its sound and aviation fuel fumes as it taxied away from us and roared back down the airstrip, somehow lifting that big body off of the ground, I hung around to watch it circle the airport and land, setting down so gently it amazed me. I only wish I had the Mucho Denaro’s to buy a ticket to go for a ride.

I looked over the other aircraft they had and some old WWII vehicles on display- many if not all working, and boogied my way back down the hill after about 2 hours and got to work.

It’ll be a short day today, maybe 4 hours or so. Just enough to keep the alligators off my butt next week.

I wish every work day was like this one.

 

Day 110

Weak Link

Hey Kids,

When I was younger, around the age of 8, I helped my dad on the construction site. He owned his own company and he hired me for the weekends. I thought I was raking in the dough while earning my $1.50/hour. And in the mid 70’s for someone just under 10, it was some serious money. I worked hard for it though.

I found that a 4’ x 8’ sheet of sheetrock was a little more than a 75lb boy could handle on his own. I remember it embarrassing to have to ask help to move them. I remember not being able to unload them from the truck and making my dad stop what he was doing to help me. Sometimes he would just do it by himself as if it was easier and faster that way. I hated it.

When he was not watching, I would place my hand just right in the middle of the sheet, like he would, and lift it up from its position of being leaned against the wall. Eventually, I could lift and carry sheets from the back of the truck and into the

job sites by myself. If my dad helped, it was only so we could both be done quicker.

Years later when I was 14, I worked at a mining operation. And again, I was the only one who couldn’t do a task. This time is was lifting a barrel of fuel from laying on its side up to a standing position. I was 100-nothing pounds and a barrel of gasoline weighs about 330 pounds, diesel fuel another 50 pounds or so. That didn’t matter. I needed to do the task without asking for help. It was embarrassing to me to be the runt. Even if I was the only kid in camp. I worked at it until I could do it. For me. For my own pride. To not be the one who slowed the team by always needing help to do my job. I worked on it until my muscles learned how to do it.

Today I look over my team at work. And although we are not moving sheetrock or tipping fuel barrels, it’s obvious that we have some weak members that lag behind the others in work productivity. Everybody sees and knows it and has to compensate for it. The lesser productivity doesn’t bother me as much as the apparent apathy. The weaker members don’t care. To be carried by the others is not an obvious issue for them. I think, maybe they’re just embarrassed and emoting a façade of not caring but there’s never any sign of improving, no clues of trying harder or differently. As a manager, I’m left to wonder why? Why don’t they want to improve? Why do they believe that that their meager efforts should be accepted?

I’m told I’m wired differently. And I’m glad I am. I find it hard to comprehend the acceptance at being the weak link, to know that everyone disrespects my work efforts. I don’t understand the reluctance to find another gear or to try to improve, to feel responsible to lighten the load of those around you by pushing yourself to be better. I have never lost anything by trying harder.

I’m not sure how to help someone when they don’t want to be helped or not think that they should be.

I’m not sure what future awaits these people. Eventually you have to step up to the plate and take a full-hearted swing.

I fear for those who never do.

 

Day 108

Volunteering

Hey Kids,

Volunteering.

Something actually happens. At least for me.

When I give away my time and help a person or cause, or in this case an event; and get no remuneration I still seem to feel compensated.

So many want my money, it’s refreshing for someone to want my time, my effort, or my help. I feel rich. I feel needed. And it lets me feel generous. I walk away feeling good about myself.one-does-not-mhgzco

In so many environments, the feeling is the opposite. For me, it’s mostly a feeling of inadequacy; not having enough, afraid to run out, exhausted at so many requests. But I can spare a little time for good reason.

I’m not trying to get on a soap box here and saying anyone else should do like I’m doing. That’s not my way. Plus there are people who are far more generous with volunteering than me.

No, I’m just saying I enjoy it, and thought I would share. I’m generous like that too.

 

Day 99

Always Two Halves

Hey Kids,

My chair I use to write most of the time when I’m home was becoming pretty well worn. There was a bar that would cut across my back and make it very uncomfortable very quickly.

We talked about replacing it, but where in the budget does that come from? Where?

Today we decided to cruise through the “more affluent” side of Salt Lake City. We like to look at how the other half lives and think what life will be like when we “make it”.

We past a chair on the curb with a sign that said “Take me please”.

We stopped and inspected.

The 4Runner had enough space.

Say hello to my new writing chair.IMG_20150530_214503_918-1

And this blog is its first product.

That’s how “this half” lives.

 

Day 96

Write It Down

74A899AE-8838-4D79-824215903D4AE5DCHey Kids,

I’m not exactly a poet but sometimes I take a stab at it.

I’m not sophisticated or technical but still, I have my moments.

This morning while on the motorcycle, I had a moment.

I had to work out a few of the 4 lines but it all played out pretty nice in my head.

I, of course, did not write it down. That would mean to stop and do it right then on the side of the road.

Now, the moment is gone and I cannot for the life of me remember it.

I remember the subject and what I felt, but the words tumbled out of my head and off the bike somewhere between here and work.

If you see them, let me know. I really liked the poem and would love to hear it again.

And next time: I’ll stop and write it down.

 

Day 95