By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Dec 16, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET How close to happiness?
Today I am just 23 pounds, $300,000, one more college degree, a new room created upstairs from the unused space in the attic, one deluxe car wash, one spring cleaning of my closet (this fall), two car payments, a new cream for my adult eczema, one tuition payment, one mini-marathon, a year of Yoga classes, 3 years of missed time with my daughter and son and wife, a full physical check up, a new dentist, 35 emails, 12 voice mail messages, 3 weekend couple invitations for dinner, 4 meetings for coffee, one meeting for lunch, one really good night’s sleep, a contribution to my IRA, de-duplicating software tool for my contacts on Outlook, one new iPad Air, 4 conference calls, 3 new clients, getting alterations done on the new blue blazer I bought 8 months ago, one gas tank fill-up, some new stationary with my name on it for thank you notes, and one cup of coffee away from true happiness.
So close….
Almost as close as this time last year….
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Dec 13, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET Whenever I have to wear a tuxedo, like tonight, I get slightly depressed. Not because of the tuxedo itself but because while dressing I inevitably think of a penguin. Not just any penguin or even a normal penguin but The Penguin, the villian played by Burgess Meredith in the original Batman series. The campy one that everyone seemed to know was campy except me. And that I now realize wasn’t as exciting or thrilling as I thought it was when I watched the series as a boy. And that is depressing.
And thinking of Burgess Meredith playing The Penguin reminds me of the first time I saw the movie Rocky (Rocky I) and how I couldn’t believe Rocky’s hardened streetwise trainer, Mick, used to play a villianous bird in a campy TV series. It made me think less of the movie Rocky. (They should have let the guy who plays Paulie be the trainer. He was never a campy Batman villian and, frankly, added little to the movie playing Rocky’s brother-in-law.) And the fact that Rocky I wasnt as good as it could have been is a little depressing.
But then I am reminded of Burgess Meredith’s early work as the bookworm banker in Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone episode “Time Enough at Last” and then wonder of Rod Serling thought less of this famous episode because Burgess Meredith later would famously play an evil Penguin in a campy TV series that Rod Serling and everyone else knew was campy at the time.
And then I try to remember if Rod Serling would do his Twilight Zone monologues in a tuxedo or just a sharp looking dark suit. I always conclude it was the later and that is a good thing since he is probably already disappointed about Burgess Meredith’s Batman role and didn’t have to be reminded of it everytime he watched a Twilight Zone rerun. That is uplifting to think about. Until I am reminded that Rod Serling died at a young age before his time and I am more depressed than before the uplifting thought about Rod Serling.
There is just no way around it. Wearing a tuxedo is enough to make any guy sad and deprrssed just thinking about all the ramifications that come to mind.
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Why I am not wearing a tie to my afternoon meeting today.
I always keep a sports jacket or two and a tie in my backseat for when I need them for a “jacket and tie” meeting. I don’t like to overdress if I don’t have to but don’t want to be underdressed either. My plan seems to work well most days.
But today I realized while on my way to a “jacket and tie” meeting I had on a plaid button down shirt that would not work with a tie and needed—quickly needed—a plain colored button down shirt. Sometimes I can get by with just a jacket but this one seemed to require a jacket and a tie.
Fortunately, I was about to drive by Jos A Banks and pulled in quickly and parked. But then my mind began to run through what was almost sure to happen.
I would run inside with 6 minutes to spare to purchase a single plain colored button down shirt. I would find my size and the shirt and take it to the counter and hear.
“Hello. What is your name and address? Do you know we are having a sale for “Buy one, get two free for dress shirts?”
I would then, obviously, take advantage of the sale since I would be giving up two free shirts if I insisted on just buying the one. I would now have 2 minutes to go and explain
I am in a hurry and just need the shirt for a meeting and have the jacket and tie in the car where I keep them for occasions like this.
“You know, if you need a tie with that because the one in the car is wrinkled, we are having the same “Buy one, get two” free for neckties or you can “buy one necktie and get any sports coat for half off. I noticed you eyeing the grey plaid sports jacket when you came in.”
“Really?” I would say. “Do you have it in a size 43 R?”
“Yes,” the sale clerk would say and “I have a really smart looking tie for it, too.”
And then, of course, there would be a slacks offering if I buy a shirt tie and jacket where
I could get two for the price of one. And before leaving I would need a pair of shoes for my new outfit too.
So, instead, I’m just going to this meeting today without a tie on. Just a sport jacket.
Because Jos A Banks wouldn’t let me just by a single darned single color plain button down shirt!
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Dec 12, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Last night before going to bed I saw a pile of bills my wife had neatly organized for me–totaling $8,100. Maybe that was the impetus for my dream last night.
As I was coming out of the men’s room in a corporation I don’t work for but was just part of my dream, someone tossed me a brick of $100 dollar bills. I couldn’t tell if they were robbing the office or were drug dealers. But after the first brick I somehow got 5 or 6 more as the robbers or drug dealers (remember, it’s a dream and not logical) left the premises.
I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I counted the money and it was about $1,190,000. I counted it several times. And several more times after that.
I found a friend—interestingly one who is not the most upright but a friend I felt I could trust— and asked what I should do. He thought I should definitely keep it. And give some to him to help me keep it under wraps.
I thought about it and prayed about it (very short prayers, I might add) and decided to keep the money for a second day to think and pray about some more. I just couldn’t be myself and was all jammed up feeling guilty and secretive and decided after about 48 hours to turn in the money –all of it—to the authorities.
This was tricky because so much time (48 hours) had lapsed. I was going to pretend like the money was dropped off in my office at the corporation I don’t really work at but did in this dream and that I just didn’t notice the money for 2 days. But that didn’t seem plausible.So I just pretended like I had missed work one day –the day the million dollars was dropped off in my office—but did notice the over $1M left in my office the next day when I returned to work. That seemed somewhat plausible. Unlike the coworkers in my dream I notice things lime 6 bricks of $100 bills left lying around. Mostly, I just wanted to turn in the darned money and be done with it so I could feel better about myself again.
And maybe I’d get a reward like television. Who knows, maybe 10% or even $10,000. Even if it were the latter it would cover all my bills waiting for me in the hallway.
I turned in the money and felt like the weight of the world (or at least as much as $1,190,000 weighs in $100 bills) had been lifted from me. I was relieved and myself again. And got no reward whatsoever. That only happens on TV not in dreams.
And then the alarm went off. And I got up and sauntered into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal and saw the pile of $8,100 in bills my wife had neatly organized for me the night before. And I was grateful I didn’t have the money to pay them just yet but I did have a clear conscience and would eventually get them paid.
And that feeling was easily worth a million bucks. Actually more than $1,190,000 to be precise.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Dec 11, 2013 at 3:00 PM ET
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Dec 11, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET To judge others or not to judge others…. And the seeming paradoxical personality types behind that decision.
It appears to me the most judgmental people I have encountered in life also seem to be the least critical of themselves. In other words, they are ruthlessly hard on other people but seem tough on themselves not at all.
It’s not so much that they give themselves “a pass” —rather it jus.t never seems to occur to them to apply personally the same critiques, criticisms and value judgments they almost instinctively apply to others. They just don’t see the need.
Conversely, those people I have encountered who are the least judgmental (the most accepting and understanding of other people), usually judge themselves the hardest of all. They seem easily to find flaws within themselves but not in others. It’s not that they give other people a pass — it just doesn’t seem to occur to them to bother commenting on others weaknesses, shortcomings and failings that they seem to instinctively acknowledge in themselves. They just don’t see the point.
This does appear to be a paradox but I don’t believe it is at all. In fact, I think it makes perfect sense once understood. Those people who are deeply self-aware —aware of what makes them tick, aware of the things they could and should have done better, the regrets they have, their idiosyncrasies, shortcomings, character flaws and excesses— are far less judgmental of others for these same flaws because they can’t comfortably criticize others for things they know they have done (or could do) themselves. They tend also to be more generous and understanding–both with themselves and others. They may not approve of all parts of themselves but their deeper and broader self-awareness of the whole of themselves including their own imperfect and halting struggles to improve themselves, allows them to grant others the same dignity and respect they have learned to show to themselves.
By contrast, those who are quick to criticize, belittle and denounce the flaws, faults and hypocrisies of others are able to do so because they appear to imagine they are in some sort of protective cocoon that prevents them from ever having to wonder if they have done –or, God forbid, are doing— anything regrettable or foolish in their own life. They rarely appear to be struggling to improve their own personal imperfections but instead, if pressed about themselves, will draw deeper into their cocoon and resist the horrifying notion that they have anything at all to change about themselves. They are, in their view, not perfect– but a finished product that doesn’t need revisiting. They are done. And yet their alter-egos, those who don’t seem naturally inclined to scold, when confronted about a need to take a closer look at themselves, do so reflexively and gladly, comfortable in the knowledge they will be better off for the effort.
They are never done. Nor need cocoons to protect them.
Those who feel less inclined to judge others, I believe, are that way because they are able to lay down their pre-conceptions about themselves, others, and the world we all live in.
They learn at some point that the things they “think” they dislike about themselves, others and the world aren’t necessarily true. In other words, it’s not the “truth” they are upset about but the story they are assuming is true about themselves or some person, situation or circumstance. Often a story they have never questioned and in many cases aren’t even aware or even know where it came from or why they believe it. It’s just there. As a sort of invisible anchor responsible for their world view.
Until one day they realize, often serendipitously, that something that they are mad about—some perceived personal flaw in themselves or another, some characteristic about another person or some unfair bias they see in a life situation working against them, isn’t what they thought it was at all. In fact, it may even be the exact opposite. The actual motive, reason, excuse, cause or purpose of something that has fueled their angst for many years is unmasked as false or non-existent.
At that moment, these individuals truly get a glimpse of what a “blessing in disguise” really looks like. They learn a silver lining isn’t a lining at all but often just a clearing up of their own misconception based on the inability to see more than they—or any of us— are capable of seeing clearly at an earlier time.
Maybe this kind of humbling epiphany happens several times before these individuals really change. But at some point they realize that they are mad more at their preconceptions about the world than they are about the world itself —and as those preconceptions dissolve they are replaced by wisdom.
The more rigid and judgmental, it seems, take an opposite tack. They choose a course requiring them to spend a much greater deal of time trying to prove to themselves and others that the world does, indeed, fit into the cramped preconceptions they hold fast to with an increasing tenacity. It can be, to those observing, like watching a grown man who believes he can still fit into the same favorite outfit he wore as a self-assured boy. Or to be even more metaphorical, like a grown person trying to cram the world they are discovering into a cramped container they used as a child to fit their world into so that it made sense.
It isn’t that all their old ideas are wrong. It’s just that their container, comforting and familiar as it is, doesn’t have room for any new ideas. And there seems to be no inclination to make room by discarding old ideas that don’t work anymore. After a while the life of these individuals starts to seem more about protecting that old and comforting container they are trying to fit their world into rather than about discovering and understanding the world they are experiencing each day.
Their less critical brethren don’t cease to judge or make discriminating decisions. They just do so with a increasing awareness of the limited understanding on which they are making their life decisions. The awareness of what they “don’t know” turns out to be a compliment, not a threat, to what they do know. And humbly embracing what they don’t know becomes, ironically, one of the greatest and most useful tools for living in their life toolbox. And to stay with the metaphor, these individuals seem to have replaced their small and rusty container with an ever-changing and growing toolbox to help them navigate the world they encounter each new day. Their life becomes more about living forward with this malleable toolbox than living backward with a cramped container they aren’t sure how they ever came into possession of in the first place.
The “life container” and “life toolbox,” of course, represent a person’s world view. How a person views and navigates the world. Is life something that is “understood and done” or something else that we should face with greater humility and openness? At least that is what I am trying to communicate in my own inartful and inadequate way.
In trying to sum up what I am trying to say, it would sound something like this: “The more we are aware of what we don’t know — and acknowledging that what we believe we do know could just as easily be false –the more knowledgeable and informed we become. And the more confident and peaceful we find ourselves with the decisions we make. The more open we are to serendipity and Grace. And the richer our lives seem to become.”
In other words, yes, “Knowledge is Power.” But knowledge coupled with the humility of understanding how little we still know —or can ever know — is even more powerful.
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Dec 10, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET Everybody has at least 603 thoughts or memories or reflections or random thoughts or nonsensical ramblings in them that they can write about. It’s a fact. You may think you don’t, like I did once. But you are wrong. Trust me. I know. From first hand experience.
About 2 years and 8 months ago, my friend Jonathan Miller asked me to write a biweekly column for his new blog (one column every two weeks). I agreed and wrote the first column for the blog’s launch in March of 2011. It was well received and now it was time to write my next column but I lacked the time or discipline to put together another 1000 word piece.
Jonathan was eager to get that second column and I told him I was working on it…even though I really wasn’t. I was trying to think about something to write about…which is sort of like working on it but not really.
Jonathan reminded me he had offered me no pay for this venture. Just the satisfaction of getting to write (even if no one ever reads it other Jonathan, me and my mom) and I was cheating myself of this personal satisfaction. I naturally felt bad about all the personal satisfaction I was missing out on but mostly felt guilty because I couldn’t think of a second substantive column for Jonathan’s new blog. Jonathan gave me an extension until mid-April and I took full advantage of it using the Derby (which was still 3 weeks away as the reason for not being able to write a second column). I convinced Jonathan that after Derby had passed my mind would clear and a second column would be forthcoming ASAP, even though I don’t even bet on horses.
By June, a month after Derby had come and gone, I told Jonathan …..something. I don’t even remember what. But I told him I was still working on my second column and just needed a little more time. In July I pointed out it was summer vacation. Not for me but for my kids. And that it would may be August before the second piece would be fully ready.
With school starting in September, I had to ask for another extension for my second column. It had now been 6 months and I was 12 columns behind. Jonathan’s wonderful and very wise wife, Lisa, reminded Jonathan that “John is just like this sometimes and for some reason we still like him, more or less, and have for many years.” That seemed to help and bought me a little more time—at least through the end of October, for my big second post. Thanks, Lisa!
With the holiday season approaching it only made sense that I may need a little extra time to put the finishing touches on what I had apparently been working on for nearly 8 months now. And Jonathan patiently agreed.
I have a phrase I like to use in situations like this. And use it often. It goes like this. “If you’ll just give me one more chance, I swear I won’t let you down again. Really. I mean it this time.” And I used it on Jonathan….and bought myself another two weeks.
It was about this time that Jonathan had a brilliant idea. He noted that we were Facebook friends and I had recently posted several silly things just for fun. Jonathan said, “Look, John. I can’t wait another 8 months for you to get me a second column but I have an idea. How about you continue to write these posts on Facebook about whatever you want whenever you want. They can be serious or silly; random or timely; about what you are eating or what you are thinking. It doesn’t matter. Just write. Whatever you feel like writing about. Take a few minutes each day and post it. At the end of each week, I’ll collect a few of them and run them the following week as John Y’s Musings from the Middle on the Recovering Politician blog. What do you think?”
That was around Dec 1st. I asked for two weeks to think about it and finally said, “I can’t think of any more excuses, Jonathan. OK? You got me. But what if I don’t have much more in me to say?”
I don’t remember what Jonathan said. I’m not even sure I asked this question. But I sure did worry about it. Anyway, as it turns out I have already come up with 603. In fact, this is 604. Like most the others, it has my trademark rambling confidently toward no particular destination. At least not a very important one. I thought I would run out of silly random things to say at about 20 posts. Maybe 30….45 at the outside. But I was wrong! And you may be too if you don’t feel you have much to say.
Dig deep. There is a lot of deep thoughts, absurd thoughts, pointless nonsense and seemingly sensible things you have to write that may or may not be important. But write them anyway. Who knows. Maybe a lot more will come pouring out. And it’s not a matter of the more you write the more you’ll teach others. Not at all. But the more you write the more you’ll learn about yourself.
And if you are reading this and asking yourself, “What is the point of all this, John?” If you were expecting a point, I really can’t help you much with that. But don’t feel like reading this entire post was a total waste. Think of it this way. If you read this far you now have something in common with my mother and Jonathan and me. I doubt anyone else read this far. Sorry. But we now have this common bond that the four of us have having read this post. And I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.
But let me ask you this, Would you rather read 602 more of my posts or start coming up with 603 of your own rambling thoughts, ideas, musings, insights or attempts at humor? So…..Go for it! And know the hardest part isn’t writing the 603rd post or 457th post or 123rd post or the 19th post or even the very 1st one. It’s that dang 2nd one. It is a bear! Trust me. And may take up to 8 months to finish it. But if you can get past that second one, you are one your way. And even though, like me, you probably won’t be getting paid anything for it, as Jonathan Miller reminded me, it’s the personal satisfaction that you’ll get. I’m glad I did it And glad Jonathan kept prodding me. Thank you, Jonathan! And Lisa! And I hope you don’t cheat yourself out of the personal satisfaction of your own writing either.
Let ‘er rip!
Just Write It!
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Dec 9, 2013 at 1:30 PM ET Well….I just got home and went out to the mailbox and found an over-sized envelope I wasn’t expecting. On the front was written my name in big gangly letters all authoritative and award-sounding like. Which turned out to be true.
I opened up the envelope (the over-sized one with my name written in big gangly letters) and found this. It was enough to make me go all soft and warm on the inside and start thinking about a movie I like a lot. Not a movie I would ever base my life on, mind you. Or a movie I’d ever admit in public that I found amusing and comforting. At least not admit it in a public way where grown-ups or anyone I want to impress could find out. But that movie is The Big Lebowski.
Now, if you ask me, “John, do you have the movie poster from The Big Lebowski hanging in your basement? The real crazy looking dream sequence one with The Dude teaching proper bowling form to Julianne Moore’s character who is dressed in Viking garb? That one?”
If you asked me that, I’d say “no.”
But I’d be lying. Because I do. In a dark corner of our basement but it’s there in plain sight (just darkened a bit) for everyone to see. If they really stray and start poking around a room they aren’t supposed to be in. And I’m proud I have that movie poster.
And I’d also be lying a bit if I told you this here award –even if it is a joke or spoof or prank of some sort—didn’t touch me in some way deep down inside that I’ll probably never be able to explain to my wife and kids or the rest of my family. Or most anybody I work with. Not even any of my neighbors, except maybe the one on the far end of our cul-de-sac who is Indian but trying really hard to understand American culture. Even the weird stuff. I think he’d probably appreciate it. But that’s about it. And maybe Will Russell, a friend of mine who does a lot for the Louisville Lebowskifest. But other than Will and my Indian neighbor whose name I don’t even know but I think would like The Big Lebowski, this is a pretty solemn award that I may try to show off to others but only I can truly appreciate the profoundly convoluted meaning behind it.
Let’s just say I think it’s pretty dang cool.
And I don’t use phrases like “pretty dang cool” unless I am feeling something very intensely than I can’t find the words to adequately describe. Maybe it’s best if I just let the movie itself do the talkin’ for me. It sums it up about like I would if I did have the words to describe it.
“Sometimes there’s a man… I won’t say a hero, ’cause, what’s a hero? Sometimes, there’s a man. And I’m talkin’ about the Dude
here…..Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place. He fits right in there……Sometimes there’s a man, sometimes, there’s a man. Well, I lost my train of thought here. But… aw, hell…The Dude abides. I don’t know about you but I take comfort in that. It’s good knowin’ he’s out there.”
Well…I think that pretty much says it all about as well as it can be said. And if you noticed the movie script didn’t ever have to resort to using the phrase “pretty dang cool.” The movie The Big Lebowski has a language all its own and didn’t need intense-feeling preppy phrases like that one. You just kinda know it without ever having to say it.
Know what I mean?
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And to prove I may be worthy of The Dude Abides award, I am including this photo.
It’s not a selfie. That wouldn’t be Dude-like at all.
It is, however, a picture of a robe I bought myself recently that I like to wear when I am working in my home office.
And if I may say so, ties the whole room together rather nicely.
And I sure hope nobody, especially German nihilists, ever try to urinate on it.
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And although there is really very little about me that even remotely resembles The Dude, I have had a few Dude-like moments.
Not many, mind you, but a few.
Including this one when I was about 11 years old on a fishing boat.
I didn’t fish. But I did manage to look pretty Dude-esque, if you ask me anyway.
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Dec 9, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Do not go gently into your twilight years….
Very hard to see pic but a special one to me of my father, grandfather and Colonel Sanders at the ribbon cutting ceremony launching the Sanders-Brown Center on Aging at UK back in 1979 –and that is going stronger than ever.
I used to listen to my grandfather in his 80s as he would walk 18 to 36 holes of golf in a day (while I drove in a golf cart at age 17) declare that aging wasn’t a natural process but a form of disease that we could and should combat. Colonel Harlan Sanders who was virtually unknown outside his hometown of Corbin in his 50s but by the time he was 70 was one of the three most recognizable faces in the world, believed in staving off the effects of aging too.
The two men convinced my father to start a foundation to do something about their beliefs that would be backed by science and help thousands –maybe even millions—enjoy richer lives in their later years.
I was proud to receive this picture tonight on my father’s behalf and was reminded how fully my grandfather lived his life all the way to the end. Running unsuccessfully for Congress at 81. Handling front page criminal trials at the age of 84 and never saying never to anything.
Sue Wylie, an esteemed public affairs talk show host, interviewed my grandfather when he was in his early 80s and reflecting upon all of his losses when we ran for public office (he lost about 3 times more races than he won), she asked him,
“Well, Mr Brown…..Do you sometimes feel like a failure?”
My grandfather’s voice cracked in a generous and kindly manner as he began to smile and said while still keeping a steady gaze on his host,
“No honey. Look….I adhere to the belief that they only time you fail in this life is when you fail to try.” And after pausing and grinning even bigger adding, “And on that count I think I took about every chance I ever had.”
That’s a pretty good way to live your life. And hasn’t been lost on me or many others inside and outside of the family who knew him.
He would have been proud of his and his friend’s legacy tonight. And, of course, disappointed he wasn’t selected as the keynote speaker. ; )
By Artur Davis, on Sat Dec 7, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Thanks, I made one minor subject very edit and one other small change: please use the version below!
Nelson Mandela should rank as the Man of the 20th Century and I would go so far as to say the honor is really not in dispute. If Franklin Roosevelt overcame a broken body and marshaled the world to conquer a monster, remember that 27 years in prison should have broken both a body and a spirit, and appreciate that Mandela had no global army to conquer his beast. There were other democratic founders who were tested in prison—Walesa, Havel—but no one else mastered conciliation so skillfully that they made their captors voluntarily negotiate the terms of their own political demise.
There were other visionaries who spoke to the soul, from Gandhi and John Paul II to Martin Luther King, but no one but Mandela translated vision to power deftly enough to re-make a nation so thoroughly and so swiftly.
Another measure of his stature is that to emulate him seems superhuman. The moral nature of Mandela, from the forbearance to the forgiveness to the restraints he self-imposed in response to a people who would have made him a civil king, is about as foreign to our fractious ways, and our self-promoting mindset, as our technology would be to a caveman.
There is one other aspect to Mandela that gets overlooked. He understood that the measure of a society is not its elegant constitutions or robust markets or even the most egalitarian laws but the extent to which its culture enshrines mutual respect. (Pay attention, liberals and conservatives!) The heartbreak of his life may well have been watching the ways apartheid kept diminishing his country, years after its rules were buried: the insidious manner in which the children of apartheid were too predisposed to turn into thugs; or demagogues who stuffed their pockets; or men who abused their women or women who debased their own bodies. The most gifted politician of the 20th Century knew that politics by itself cannot rebuild what a culture breaks.
By Steve Levy, on Fri Dec 6, 2013 at 2:00 PM ET Mandela, like Gandhi and King before him, taught us how forgiveness and humility can be the most potent forces for change and justice.
Nelson Mandela didn’t just change the world, he changed how we see the world.
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