Powerless on a storm day

We awoke to darkness. No clock, no bathroom light and most importantly no heat on this icy, chilly morning.

I walked slowly down the stairs, making sure my foot landed securely on the next step. 5:30 in the morning. What could I do? No electronics to distract me. It's too dark to read. I still have my cell phone. With a single connection to the outside world, I can verify the school situation. Can't surf too long, the battery is only half charged. Next, I need to find out how long this outage will last. On the power company's website, it states the power could be off until noon. Piece of cake, I think to myself.

I doze off to sleep on the couch waiting for daylight to emerge. My daughter wakes me up. She comes downstairs to verify if there's school. Excited for 14 seconds, she jumps for the computer. This is her first true encounter with being powerless. She then tries to turn the TV on. Finally she reaches for the iPad. It's got 17% battery left, but no wifi connection. I tell her to save the battery life for later. She responds, "no worries, I'll go get the charger". Poor little girl hasn't figured out yet that life is dominated by electricity.

My son wakes up. When he wakes up, everybody wakes up. The loud little boy that he is doesn't yet understand the value of a whisper.

With the whole family now awake, I turn on the propane fireplace. Without the benefits of the blower, it will throws limited heat. Some heat is better than none.

What happened next was marvellous. My kids played together. We all sat around the fireplace and talked. No distractions... We played two board games. My kids volunteered to go outside and played together. On any other day, we couldn't pay them to do that. We even got the Nerf guns out and ran around the house shooting each other.

Finally, we got out of the house at 2pm. My phone needed to be recharged so we went for a drive, got a needed dose of caffeine.

At 4pm, the power company updated their website. We could be powerless for another day. No big deal, especially when today was so much fun.

Tonight we're all gonna sleep together. For once, the kids are looking forward to bedtime.

In the absence of power, today was indeed an electric day. 

Animal house

Dogs, cats, foxes, rabbits, turkeys, chickens, pigs, Star and Morgan.

The answer to the question what animals did I help raise when I was a child. We always had cats around. They kept away the mice. I think we always had dogs because dad liked to hunt ducks. Dogs made his job easier getting the ducks out of the water.

Turkeys, chickens, rabbits, foxes and pigs were food.  We didn't eat foxes. Their fur made us money that ultimately was exchanged for food.

Star was a fox pup. Her mother was extremely nervous. Nervous fox mothers eat their babies. It was our first fox litter. The day Star was born, she had four siblings. Each day, dad would check on them, their numbers depleting like the snow on a springtime day. The final day he looked, there was only one baby silver fox left. Star would not survive another night with her mother. Dad had a tough decision: take the baby fox away from her mom or let her die at the mouth of her mother. The worst that could happen is the baby fox would die. There wasn't much of a choice.

He removed Star from the kennel. What he did next was genius. We had a cat that had a litter of kittens. He put Star on the mother cat to see if she would feed the fox. In less than a day, the mother cat naturally accepted an adoption. Our cat saved Star's life. The fox grew much faster than her adoptive brothers and sisters so after a month we found alternative sources of food. Being raised in the house, Star acted more like a dog than a fox. I'll never forget her.

Then there was Morgan. At work one day, dad was informed about a mother raccoon that had been hit by a car. Her young babies were hiding in the grass on the side of the road. Too afraid of life, too small to survive on their own, my dad brought one of the babies home to raise. Always a fan of rum, he named the female raccoon after his favourite brand: Captain Morgan.  Again, as a baby, she was raised domestically as part of the family. Wildness wasn't part of her psyche. She only knew what she knew. Morgan was family. I remember having Morgan on my shoulders, just like a cat. She wasn't just tame. She was cuddly.

Wild animals will have instincts of the wild is what I was taught in school. Rest assured Star and Morgan were not wild animals. They were part of our family. How many people do you know who had a pet fox, and raccoon?

Ever heard of pet crows? My grandfather raised two pet crows. I remember feeding Fred and Barney by hand.

I was talking to a smart guy yesterday. He said there were four parts to the human psyche: mind, spirit, body and emotional fitness. I argued the fourth part was the connection to nature.

Without the connection to nature, we have nothing. I will always be thankful to my dad and my grampie who showed me how easily domesticated wild animals can be.

With these stories of wild animals, my hopes are wild assholes can be tamed as easily.

Thoughts about death

Death is something we don't like to talk about, something we don't like to think about when it applies to us or to those close to us. Yet when it applies to someone we don't really know, death is discussed like the weather.

It's shameful. Someone's mother died. Someone's sister died. They are in pain and we discuss in a "matter of fact" way to get caught up on the community news. We don't do it to hurt anyone. We communicate to make sure we are informed.

Last week, I read a story emerging on Facebook about a man who took his life by jumping off a highway bridge. The interaction between the trolls on Facebook sickened me. It wasn't the first time I have witnessed this type of online dialogue. I go to this specific group because the information is usually helpful when it comes to traffic jams and road closures. The interaction on this day described in great detail the stuff that no one needs to hear or picture. Has our society sunken so low?

I found out today that I knew the gentleman. He was my doctor, my specialist. In a field dominated by egos, in which I have felt like a number for a very long time, he made me feel human.  He was one of the good ones. Even though he was extremely busy, I never felt rushed when I had him in the room.

I didn't know him on a personal level, so I can't comment on his pain. So I won't. I don't understand it. I won't profess to understand it. Here's what I will share.

There have been times in my life when I didn't feel worthy of living. No need to worry mom, I will never have the courage to harm myself on purpose.

My friend Craig explained courage to commit suicide this way to me. Most people fear death. To act despite that fear is the very definition of courage. We generally associate courage with positive, heroic actions. Craig's right. Although a negative event, suicide is still a courageous act. We treat suicide cases like victims: victims of pain, victims of the inability to escape it, victims of mental health problems.

Obviously a prevented suicide is always a better option. But if the ultimate has been committed, there's nothing we can do to bring it back.

The ancient Samurai would thrust themselves upon their own swords in order to die with honour than to die at the hands of their enemy. Death only hurts the living. My doctor refused to let his enemy kill him. He killed himself first. He's a Samurai in my books.

For the people I have offended, I don't like the thought of suicide. I don't condone suicide. I'm saying that if we lose someone to it, we need to remember their positive qualities that stayed with them right to very last minute of their life.  That's all.

Yes or no or maybe

There are typically three answers to a closed ended question - yes, no or maybe.

If you're looking for an answer to something, using the closed ended question may not be your best approach unless you know how to get people to make a decision. When I was growing up, my parents always said "maybe". We quickly picked up the non committal forces and would ask "maybe-yes or maybe-no". We wanted a yes. If our parents couldn't commit to a yes, we wanted them at least leaning toward the yes.

Research shows that most don't like saying no. They may reject the idea, but they don't want to reject the person presenting the idea. We don't want to hurt people's feelings. We don't like hearing "no", so we don't like saying either.

Unless the interrogator is being an asshole, what do we say instead? We deflect, just like my parents did, by saying, "let me think about it", which is in effect a "maybe".

Maybes suck. In most cases, they are just a "no" disguised as a potential "yes".

In my limited sales training, I've learnt that maybes are not an acceptable response. In any sales scenario, we ultimately need a yes or a no.

The best stuff I learn comes from my kids. This morning, my daughter asked me to buy her a movie for the twenty second time. I've told her no 21 times prior to today. She refuses to accept a no response. Today, she replied, "I'm tired of hearing a no, give me a different answer that's not no or maybe". I never said maybe before so I immediately questioned the problem with a maybe.

In her eight year old wisdom, she asserts "Maybes are for babies".

She is absolutely right. I love it.

If someone asks you a question that requires a yes or no, don't be baby. Be honest enough with yourself and the other person to give a "yes" or "no" answer.

Remember, a "no" answer is a salesperson's second favourite word.

Born to sell

I heard a statement recently, "She could sell ice to an Eskimo". I got the connection. The usage of the cliche states that this person knows what she's doing when it comes to sales. The connotation of selling a product to someone without a true need is the epitome of being a good salesperson. That's what was suggested.

Yesterday a friend and I reminisced about our sales experience as Boy Scouts. As a representative of a visible minority when I wore my uniform, I would knock on doors and beg for money in exchange for product or service. Soapy sponges, ball point pens, chocolate bars, apples was the easy sell. The hard sell was gathering cash in return for a promise to plant trees. At least I thought it was the hard sell. Everybody always gave something, even the stingy, greedy guy. I hated going to his house. He would play with my confidence and try to get a bargain. Worse part was I knew he wasn't the playful type. He really wanted a deal.

Already questioning motive, this type of selling did not appeal to me. Hence sales has always been a prickly thorn that I would keep my side away from.

Here's what I know about sales. We all do it. We've always done it. My kids beg for the latest greatest toy. If I say no, they persist with the whiney "Pleeeeeaaaasssse". If that doesn't work, the sales tactics escalate to tantrums, silent treatment or they ask the real decision maker, their mother.

We sell to our spouses reasons why a certain car or house should be purchased. We sell ourselves to our employer. We are all in the business of sales.

It's how good we are at it that determines our results.

Good does not mean selling something that no one needs. Good at selling means identifying what your prospects need and showing them how they can achieve their needs/wants with your product.

A good salesman would never sell ice to someone that doesn't need it. A good salesman will identify the prospect's pain by asking a series of questions. A good salesman may tell the lead that they don't need ice. It's not about making a sale. It's about helping others get what they want.


PS. My apologies to anyone I have offended by using the word Eskimo. I realize this is not the politically correct term but I didn't say these words. I am merely quoting the cliche that I heard.

You wanna achieve something spectacular

Do you actively write down your goals? If you don't, that has to be the first step for growth. There is something powerful about writing them down. It's a secret passage way to your superconscious.

If you do write down your goals, how often do you review them? That's the second step. The amount you review them and the way they are written will affect your response and your ability to recognize the opportunities as they present themselves.

In Brian Tracy's book, "Goals", he instructs us to write down goals in the present, in the first person in a positive frame of mind.

For example: If you have a goal to lose 20 lbs and you currently weigh 170 lbs. The right way to express the goal is:

"I weigh a healthy 150 lbs."

If you want to double your income and you currently make $40,000/year.

"I earn $80,000 per year."

The key to attainment of goals is to write them down everyday, without reviewing the previous day's goals. Only the true goals that are important to you will rise to the top. Brian Tracy suggests writing 10 annual goals as soon as you get up, using the positive, present, personal method. Then review them every night before you go to bed.

Organically, these goals get cemented into the superconscious and they magically get attracted to you.

From experience, I know that any habit will be formed after 30 days of continuous action. I can do this for 30 days. After that, doing it for the rest of the year will be a breeze. I suggest you try it as well. What's the worst that could happen? We waste 5 minutes a day for a year. That's only 30 hours over the entire year. Some of us waste that in a week watching TV.

Without looking back, I started writing my annual goals every morning three days ago. It's interesting that some goals just three days ago did not make my list today. Out of the 10 goals, 6 of them appear everyday. The statements are getting more concise and clearer every day.

I challenge you to write 10 goals every morning in the present, personal, positive frame of mind. Do it for a month without looking back.

Don't forget the other two rules of goal setting.

1. They have to be realistic.
2. They have to be measurable.

I would say "Good Luck", but in this case you don't need luck. You need action. Are you up for a challenge?

How we started our family - Part IV

We hadn't yet felt the warm summer wind in Atlanta when we were served another surprise. The airline lost one of our bags. The bag had Aline's favourite dress. The dress she planned to wear the first time we picked up the baby was now missing.

We had a tight schedule so instead of waiting for the airline to figure their shit out, we left our coordinates in hopes to see the bag in the coming days. We didn't realize that we would never see the contents of that bag again.

Off to Chattanooga we went. Three hours in a blue Chevy Impala. I already felt like a dad. Only dad's drive Impalas, right?

Once in Chattanooga, instead of rushing to the hospital, we went out to eat. Outback Steakhouse is one of my favourite restaurants and we found one near our hotel. We took one last meal as a family of two. Admittedly, we didn't dilly dally. We were too damned excited.

We trekked to Erlanger Medical Center where we were to meet our baby for the very first time. The nurses were awesome. They brought us into an examination room and told us to wait. They would bring the baby to us. What seemed like an hour, was really only a few minutes. In those minutes, we talked quickly about the things we had been through. We talked about our dream coming true. It was hard to believe we had finally achieved our goal. It was like we had just won a championship. A championship that no one was competing with us, but we were competing with and against ourselves.

Three nurses walked in carrying a little girl. She was so small. We both started to cry. I was standing behind Aline. With tears rolling down my face, I whispered into her ear, "Remember what we said, it's not if we'll have a baby, it's when. Today is the when. Today is the when." I repeated "Today is the when" about five times just to remind myself that this was not a dream.

The love a parent has for a child is immediate. Whether the child is a biological birth or not, I can assure you the moment I saw this little baby, I fell in love with her. The nurses wheeled Aline out in a wheelchair, just like they would do with any new mommy. It was a nice touch!

We were informed that evening that the birth mother wanted to meet us before signing the legal guardianship with the judge. We agreed to meet at an Applebee's two days later. Worried was now the emotion. This was the interview. If we failed, she could take her baby back. We had talked to her on the phone but this time it was in person.

When the time came to meet there was nothing we could do but put on our best interview face. She had to like us. What we didn't realize at the time was that she already liked us. She chose us. The baby almost slept the whole time at dinner. We had put her car seat next to her birth mom. We sat on the opposite side of the table. As she started to wake up, she heard the sound of her birth mother's voice. She hadn't heard this familiar voice for two days. Softly, the birth mother whispered, "Hello Mama". Immediately, the baby opened her eyes and looked directly into the eyes of the person who had cared for her, nurtured her, and created her.

Aline and I both saw it. This untouchable, unexplainable, desirable look of pure love. We could see the eternal bond between mother and child. We were going to break that. Aline ran to the bathroom. I sat there, with tears rolling down my cheeks again. We both got hold of our emotions as the birth mother was laughing at us. She was awesome. She cared so much about her baby, that she gave her away in order to give her a better life. I will always be grateful to this woman.

Wanna talk laws of attraction? The birth mother told us that when she chose us she only knew our first names. Once full disclosure was given, she found out that our last name was the same as her mother's. Our baby would have the same last name as her biological grandmother.

The next day was easy peasy. As most times with worry, we did it for nothing. The birth mother did not change her mind. The judge's son played professional football in Ottawa. The lawyers were sympathetic. Every body did as they were supposed to. We now had legal guardianship of our little girl. The adoption process would take another 6 months, but we could do that back home.

How we started our family - Part III

How were we going to pay for international adoption if I didn't have a job? We now weren't making enough money to pay for our current bills. Forget about bringing a new baby into the house...

We questioned everything again. Why is this happening?

There was an added problem. I wanted to buy a Cora's franchise. I was done with the corporate dog eat dog world. I wanted to work for myself and I didn't want to look for another salaried position.

I accepted a line cook position at an existing Cora's to make sure this was the right move. For $9.00/hour, I slugged away cooking breakfasts, pumping out bacon and eggs. Not working for money, I was now working for purpose. There was no way these wages could pay for the additional costs of a baby in a few months.

Then we got a call from American Adoptions. We were matched with a baby. The newborn pictures were awesome. We were so excited. With the match, we were given a bunch of medical information about the birth and the birth mother's health condition. After two hard days of discussions, we declined the match. Everything we had ever wanted was in our grasp, and we turned it down. We questioned why we would stop a baby from coming into our home. Were we not ready? Was the financial constraints too dangerous? The simple answer was no. There were complications with the birth and there were concerns the baby suffered brain damage. It was a responsibility we weren't comfortable accepting.

We had made it clear in our application that this type of match was not acceptable, so we made sure our adoption agency didn't try to sway from our requests in the future. It really hurt us to decline this baby.

We didn't hear much from our adoption agency for the next two months. We were worried we had offended them and they weren't marketing our profile. We mustered up the courage to call them to find out if everything was ok. They reassured us that everything was fine. They had trouble finding a match.

Imagine our insecurities. God doesn't allow us to make a child, so we'll adopt. Now others don't want to give us a child. What is wrong with us? Are we bad people who are destined to live childless forever?

Then on June 23, the phone rang. It rang as it always had before. It was our adoption agency. We were matched with a little girl in Chattanooga, Tennessee. The baby was born the day before. They wanted to know when we could be there to pick her up.

We could pick her up at the hospital or we could pick her up in an orphanage. It was our choice. We had to act fast because the hospital will only keep her for three days. One day had already passed.

The next call was to my wife. She was at work. As I recall this story, tears come to my eyes. I had the pleasure of telling her that her dream had just come true. We couldn't allow ourselves to get too excited. We already had a false match. This one felt different.

We had two days to get to a strange city. We planned on flying on the 6am flight on the 25th. This meant we had 24 hours to get everything ready. We had to talk to the birth mother. We had to secure financing for the adoption. We had to review medical papers about the condition of health of the baby and the birth mother. We had to reserve a hotel, a car, a flight itinerary. Then there were the legal documents we needed notarized before leaving. If that wasn't enough, Aline had to inform her boss that she was going on parental leave starting immediately.

On the 24th, our adoption agency told us they had made as good of a match as possible but there was always a potential the birth mother would change her mind. We would have to go to Tennessee, discharge the baby from the hospital. We would be her guardians until we could get in front of a judge three days later. At which time, both the birth mother and we would have to agree to legal guardianship.

It was a risk we were willing to take. Worst case scenario we would come home $6000 poorer. I was less concerned about the money. It was the emotional consequences that scared the shit out of me.

Having everything as best prepared as possible, we flew out of Moncton on June 25, connecting a flight in Toronto bound for Atlanta. From which we would rent a car and drive three hours to Chattanooga.

To be continued...

How we started our family - Part II

I learned a lot about obstacles and how to overcome them as we went through the process of having a baby. Having a clear vision and not wavering from it was the key to our success. This experience has taught me how to persevere in all situations.

If we would have doubted that we could be parents, we could have easily been discouraged at least 5 times. Every time an obstacle was placed in our path, we smashed through it.

We made the decision to adopt. But we didn't know where to begin. It took us a good week to figure that out. Then we needed to make decisions. Did we want a local baby? Or an international baby? The variable between the two was time and money. The more money we spent, the quicker we could achieve our objective. If an international adoption, what country did we want to adopt from? Each country had different issues and regulations to facilitate the adoption. The social worker who was assigned to us, always using the cover your ass strategy couldn't give us direct advice. She would point us in the right direction and then we would have to figure things out for ourselves. We had to fill out document after document. The pile was 4 inches high when we were all done. Just the documents took us 3 weeks to fill out. And we worked on them every night to keep things moving forward.

Once the documents were filled out, they were analyzed to see if we would get an approval to move to the next stage, which was the home study. We got approved! A stranger came to our home and evaluated us over 4 visits that lasted about 3 hours per visit. The questions were really hard. Luckily she was nice and made us feel comfortable with our answers.

Once the visits were finished, we waited another 4 weeks for the social worker to write a report to the province recommending us for adoption. Just when we thought the hard part was done, we got another surprise.

Now it was time for us to find an adoption agency in our country of choice: United States. After talking to another couple in Moncton, we got a recommendation for American Adoptions out of Kansas.

The process doesn't seem complicated now, but it took us 18 months to get to this stage. All the while, we are being approached by other people for potential private adoptions.

One young teenager, who had family ties, had lost her baby to the province. She had asked the province to let us adopt her baby. We spent $1000 in legal fees trying to get a judgement in our favour. But to no avail, the baby was to be adopted by another lucky couple.

Each time, it seemed like babies were being moved around and we were being passed over.

Once we established a relationship with American Adoptions, we got another pile of documents that had to be filled out. Again at least 4 inches thick. We completed it all and had to compose a profile document. The profile was used as a brochure to birth mothers. The profile was the only information a birth mother would use to make a decision on the placement of her child. We spent another 3 months on this profile.

Finally, we had jumped through all of the hoops. We got activated on the list January 27. We were told the average match took about 2-6 months. It was so close we couldn't help it. We were so excited.

With everything we had done, this last part seemed too easy. Something wasn't right. We got the next slap in the face less than a month later. The company I worked for restructured its marketing department. On February 23, I lost my job.

To be continued...

How we started our family - Part 1

Child birth is a special, exhilarating, exhausting, exhaling event so I'm told. My wife and I spent two days in the hospital waiting for our friends' daughter to be born. Aline was actually in the room with the mother at the very moment, the baby took her first breath. I had gone home for a few hours sleep. I was never going to see this moment until it was my turn as a dad. The mother didn't feel comfortable having me in the delivery room when the time came, so I was only there for moral support.

We were trying to have a baby about three years before that. We couldn't conceive. At first we thought it was just poor timing. Every time our families would ask us about grandchildren, we would go home and cry. We wanted a family so bad. We felt wronged that others who didn't want kids could pop them out like groundhogs. We questioned God's fairness.

It was time to seek medical advice. Doctors confirmed everything was ok for both of us. To speed up the process, the doctors suggested we hire a private clinic to induce artificial insemination. 

At first, we had to take Aline's temperature to determine her ovulation cycle, then we had to keep a graph of the details of our sexual encounter.  At first, we would laugh that the graph was a great momento of our sexual escapades of the time. That soon faded as the process became more technical.

As the situation escalated, the magic of conception was thrown in the garbage. I watched my wife get strapped into metal stirrups, all while three people clamped her open and added my contribution. All while Aline was injecting hormones to help the process. 

We did this for 4 months. Every month started off with an extreme high of excitement and hope followed 15 days later by intense lows. One time after an extreme low, Aline called me crying so despairingly that she couldn't even make a sound. I thought the line was dead. Then I heard a faint whimper, a sign that someone was actually on the other end of the phone. I rushed home to find her on the floor in the fetal position. It was the weakest I have ever seen her. I had to be strong, so I never showed my pain. I waited until she went to bed so I could cry myself to sleep.

Side effects of the hormones started showing up. Aline developed a dark rash on her stomach, roughly where her ovaries would be. We had read reports that suggested the drugs Aline was taking could cause ovarian cancer. The rash, combined with the extra emotion and the amount of money we dished out led to change our minds about artificial insemination. We were out a significant amount of money and there were no guarantees that an extra dose of cash would change our baby situation. Plus we felt the risks were getting too high.

That was the day, we sat down and decided that we were going to adopt. Adoption was going to be three times more expensive but at least there was a guaranteed baby at the end of the process.

As despair increasingly grew, to keep our spirits up, I used to say, "It's not a question of "if" we'll have a baby. It's a question of "when" we'll get her".

To be continued...

The worst harmonica player ever

I was 6 when I first blew into a harmonica. Unfortunately, the musical ability of my grandmother never made it to me. I never learned how to play it.

I can happily say that as bad as I am with the mouth organ, I think I found someone worse than me.

Oddly enough, I saw a guy today who couldn't carry a tune if it jumped into his front pocket. He was sitting on the street playing with complete emotion. Despite his bulky mittens he continued to make odd cat calling noises that put life into the downtown area.

Two hours went by since my first encounter. When I was walking back to the car, he was still there, in the same spot. Musically speaking he sucked! I couldn't help but notice his passion and dedication to the craft on a less than favourable wintery day.

He is a street person. Outside of his social and financial situation, I admire him. To not care about what anyone thinks and to play his craft from the heart was very inspiring.

Thank you nameless harmonica player. You made my day.

Not goodbye, just see you later.

It was October. As the summer said its last goodbyes and as the full effect of autumn started to settle in. Daytime temperatures dropped from 20 degrees down to a cool 10 degrees. Still warm enough to wear a T-shirt during the day, too cold to drive a motorcycle at night.

The year was 1993. I was home from university for Thanksgiving. My gramma had been sick with lung cancer for a few years. She was now bed ridden. She didn't have enough energy to get out of bed. To see her, we had to go into her bedroom.

There was always someone with her. She didn't have the same joie de vivre about her. It wasn't her fault. She was dying.  

I remember the last time I talked to her. I went into her bedroom. I sat on her bed and held her hand. Being 20 years old, I didn't know what to say so I just sat there and talked about nothing. When it came time to leave, I gave her a hug and said one simple word... "Goodbye". 

What else could I say? I had never experienced death of a loved one. She had survived these types of scares before. The fighter that she was could survive another bout with death. She was my gramma and she was capable of doing anything. 

Her response to my farewell will forever be with me. She stared intently into my eyes and replied, "Not goodbye, just see you later". 

My grandmother refused to say goodbye to me. She died 2 weeks later while I was at school. It's not often I can remember the last conversation I have with a loved one, but this one was unforgettable.

Man, I miss her. Some days I wish I could play one more hand of cards with her. She loved her cards...

A weekend to remember

I was 23 when my wife and I started dating. We worked for the same company and became work friends. We would lunch together with other friends. One night, we went to a movie together. Another night, we played tennis. We were purely platonic friends. Others knew we were dating before we realized our feelings were mutual.

I liked her but I had experience in losing girl friendships in my attempts to escalate the relationship. With my this girl, I decided that I was not going to lose her. I fully accepted the "just friends" rule. What I didn't know is that she had similar feelings for me.

Thankfully she goes after what she wants!

Three weeks into our new enhanced relationship, the inevitable trip to her parents came calling. I was informed her parents could not speak English. Wow! I didn't know that still happened in New Brunswick. I thought everyone was assimilated. With 7 years French Immersion in my back pocket, I got ready for a weekend that I was expecting to be extremely painful.

At the midway point of the three hour drive to her parents, Aline informed me that since she was a little girl, she had always had a deep desire to adopt a child.  We're three weeks into a new romance. If travelling to visit her parents wasn't scary enough, the discussion of children was putting this relationship in turbulent waters. Luckily, I really liked her.

Then she told me that her father was a man of few words. So I shouldn't be offended if he doesn't talk too much. This weekend was looking better and better by the minute.

Upon arrival at her parents, my broken French combined with her parents' severe broken English made for a very comical weekend. I had a humbling moment when her 3 year old nephew started correcting my French grammar.

Aline didn't know her father very well. He never stopped talking to me for the entire weekend.

Her mom reminded Aline that when she was 5, she had gotten into a fight with her brother over the TV. He was mad because she wanted to watch English TV and neither could understand what was being said. Aline rationalized that she had to learn the language so she could marry her English husband.

So in that first weekend at her parents' house, we discussed kids and marriage.

I have to be honest. It didn't scare me at all. I really did like her. She was what I had been searching for in a life partner. She was and still is very awesome.

From Aline's childhood, she accurately predicted adoption and marriage to an English guy. She has a keen connection to the universe. With all her voodoo, witch craft, power of thought, I try really hard not to piss her off. Although she informs me her talents are used solely for good, I'm wary she might cast a spell on me.

Fake it until you make it

My first job out of university, I was told to dress for success. I had to wear a suit and tie every day. The logic was that if I dressed professionally, I would act professionally. I have to admit, because I dressed nice, I felt good about myself. And hence, I probably treated people a bit better. The way I dressed affected my attitude.

When I started my first business, I read that I need to fake it until I make it. The logic was people like to do business with successful people. For years, I challenged this thinking because it seemed like a personal marketing tactic. It isn’t authentic. It’s fake from the highest level. It’s not authentic. You’re fake if you fake it. You might wear a thousand dollar suit, drive a fancy car, but your house doesn’t have any furniture in it.

I was brought up that keeping up with the Joneses is a strategy in which no one wins unless you’re selling to them. I’ve never prescribed to this strategy.

Then I read a passage in a book this morning. The fake it until I make it isn’t for others. It’s for the person doing it.

Again, it’s about changing your attitude about yourself. As you feel good about yourself, you change the beliefs of what you can accomplish. As you change your beliefs, you start acting differently. As you act in a more positive, focused approach, you ultimately get what you dressed for.

Attitude drives belief. Belief drives actions. Action drives results.

Ever feel stupid?

I have a lot of business meetings. I spend a lot of time with smart people. I have a Masters degree in business. Some will consider me an educated person. I meet people all of the time who talk over my head. They use fancy words. They have a gift. A gift to talk with influence, without hesitation, with authority…

They sound convincing. The use of big words and their confidence is mesmerizing. I get drawn into these conversations and come out feeling stupid. Why can’t I talk like them? I have lots of confidence. I am continuously learning.

The people I learn from best have a command on the usage of words, but use them in an eloquent, understandable, simple way. I’m not a rocket scientist. Life isn’t complicated. I have a lot to learn.

I like to talk in simple terms so everyone can understand what I’m saying. I don’t need you to think I’m smart. I want you to believe in what I have to say so you can change your life.

Actions are driven by beliefs. Beliefs are driven by attitude. Help someone change their attitude and you’ll get a different result guaranteed.

Whether it’s our spouse, our children, our coworkers or our friends/family, if there’s something we don’t like about them, we want them to change. We try to change them. We ask them to change. Actions will never see sustainable change until attitude changes. Attitudes are a personal decision.

My attitude toward these complicated talkers creates a limiting belief. I believe complicated talkers are seemingly smart. And I tend to trust them more than I should. Complicated talkers are no smarter than you and I. They’ve mastered language. They have power of influence with usage of words. There is no indication that they can make better decisions.

Character versus Reputation

Ego cares a lot about reputation. Reputation is how others see you. The ego acts in a way to create a desired reputation.

That reputation may not be indicative of the person at all. It is only a perception, an image that we see.

As kids, our parents used to warn us about our reputation. Be careful what you do, you don't want a bad reputation. It was the one thing we had to continuously protect like a carton of eggs. It must not get broken.

I always thought that character was derived from reputation. It has no relation at all.

Reputation is how others perceive you. Character is what you do when no one else is looking.

Which would you rather have?

A person of outstanding character will not be swayed by ego. She will always do what is right, even when no one else would know the difference. Ego asks us to do what is right for self, not for what is right for others.

I am my worst enemy

The worst things that happen to me are usually my own doing. I get bent out of shape because of someone else who did something to me, yet when I look at the bigger picture, I can usually identify where I contributed to the problem and made it bigger with my actions/words.

Why do I do that? I don't do it on purpose. I don't lose control and say things I really don't mean. So what could cause me to make these situations worse?

I've been listening to a lot of Wayne Dyer lately. He says that being humble is the way to righteousness. Righteousness is the way to to getting everything you ever wanted. Most people's ego gets in the way. He even puts an acronym to EGO with the words "Edging God Out". Although I believe in God, I'm not going to wave a bible around and pretend to know what I'm talking about when it comes to this stuff.

I have identified that I have a very healthy ego. I also try to keep it in check, but being an introvert, I take a lot of things way too personal and end up feeding my ego, which derails my thinking and my opportunities.

I'm on a quest to find out where ego exists in the psyche. There really is no place for it in my life. The more I pay attention to it, the smaller it gets. It's like a parasite. Without a host, it cannot survive. Just realizing it is there and not feeding it will kill it, just like any other bad habit. 

Ever hear the line, when you point a finger at someone for your problems, you have three more pointing back at you? Basically, the lesson is to take responsibility for all that happens to us.

Are there sociopaths in the world? Absolutely! We create most of our headaches to ourselves. Think about that the next time, you feel you've been wronged. You'll be really surprised.    

How are you?

I'm amazed at these three words that start off everyday conversations. How are you? Does anyone really care when they ask the words? And does most care what the answer is going to be?

In certain context, I have genuinely asked someone I hadn't seen in a long time, "How are you" or aka "What's up". It's such a general question that could take hours to answer. Yet in looking for a quick answer, the question and answer have very little meaning

Answer the phone, door, check email, or facebook and I'm sure you'll get at least one cliche HAY (how are you) per day. Most people that ask me this question couldn't care less how I am. They use these words as a bridge to the real reason they contacted me.

As the question gets thrown around like a clean pair of jeans at a frat house, the answer to the question has become as unremarkable as its predecessor.

Yesterday at the grocery store, I watched an interaction between two people that I see on a daily basis. Two women approached each other. As they got closer, one asked the other how she was. The second woman, never slowed down, never made significant eye contact, and did not seemingly care. Her response was "fine", followed quickly by a "and how are you" response. The second woman had already passed by her inquisitor. It was so contrived, I almost started laughing.

There was a time when I used to answer the question honestly. Once I realized this was a systematic, almost rhetorical question, I changed my answer to a systematic answer. Guess what happened?

I started getting a legitimate response from a few. I could feel some interrogator's break out of their cliche shell and their true personality would emerge.  

My answer was a series of five different words: Perfect, Awesome, Amazing, Unbelievable, Fantastic.

I made the answer as automatic as the question. My initial thought was no one cares, so I should use strong, positive answers that could at least help me feel more positive.

It worked! My days got better and better.

The drones who have a hard time getting through another workday, never noticed and continued the conversation with whatever their true intent was to be begin with.

The most influential person in my life

Some give credit to a parent, a teacher, or a mentor. I believe the most influential person in my life was my Gramma.

I loved my gramma. She was one of the most interesting people I have ever known. She was smart, articulate, and quick witted. She loved her music, could play guitar, piano and a bit of violin that I know of it. She could cook. She loved to laugh, but hated being teased. To me, she knew everyone and never forgot anything.

I spent a lot of time with Gramma. When my parents worked, I would stay with her. Most of our time was spent reading, playing cards and cooking. She taught me all nine planets of the solar system before I started school. Funny enough, she never taught me how to play guitar.

Gramma loved education. Her dictionary was well used and always close by.  I remember seeing two grad pictures of her two kids that finished high school. At six years old, I remember talking to Gramma about education. Somehow a thought was planted that I would go to university one day. I would be the first in her family. It was never a question that I would do anything else. I think she may have planted it. There's no way I knew what university was at that age.

I never really knew my Gramma the way her kids knew her. I was the grandchild. She spoiled me.

She told me something when I was 14 that I have never told anyone until recently. She told me what she expected of me by the time I turned 40. I actually forgot about the conversation until one day I was talking to a friend about predictions and laws of attraction. Swoooooosh, that day with Gramma came back to me in a flash. She was bang on. Just another seed that was planted that I forgot even existed.

I'd rather not share the exact details, but I assure you she got it right

The day I graduated from university my dad took me aside and made me cry. He said Gramma would be very proud and that she was looking out for me. Two years earlier, Gramma died from a long bout of lung cancer.

Near the end of her life, I've been told that she asked one of her daughters to look out for me. Not sure if that was true, not sure why.

Every time I eat banana bread, see a guitar or hear someone playing piano, I think of her.

Rumours

When was the last time you talked about someone in a bad way?  I’ve done it. Most people get afflicted with this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it happens. Right?

Have you ever played Chinese Telephone? 

Get in a room with six people and whisper a personal story to your neighbor. Get your neighbor to repeat the story to her neighbor, and so on. Once all of the people have heard the story, the last person will share the story with the entire group. Funny enough, the story will have changed dramatically. 

Isn’t this the essence of what happens with rumours?

I met a guy yesterday who told me a story about someone I knew. He didn't know my relationship with this guy. I knew the truth quite well, and his story was so badly rewritten, all I could do was smile.  I thought about correcting him, but it meant that I would be involved in the gossip. What was the chance he would get the story right afterwards? I was sure he'd mess it up and then firmly state that he heard it from me. I don't need my friend thinking I've started a rumour about him. So I kept quiet.

We had friends that used to talk about others on a daily basis. Most of our conversations were of the gossip kind. We stopped being friends at one point for no reason but the fact that we drifted apart. In talking to my wife about the lost friendship, she hit a home run with her clarity.  I pondered calling them. She reminded me our friendship was dead. She said that our old friends talked too much about other people, including those who were close to them. There should be no doubt that they were also talking about us. Instinctively, we couldn’t identify the issue at the time. But she is right. They are good people. I love them. There will always be a special place in my heart for them. 

We can never be friends. We're fundamentally different when it comes to gossip.

I want to be around encouraging, honest people who have integrity, passion and energy.

Talking about someone in a negative light is a waste of conversation. Unless you’re trying to protect a friend from getting into a relationship with a sociopath or if you're trying to protect a friend's reputation, you should avoid it at all costs.

Ultimately, it's nothing but stinking thinking...

Stinkin' Thinkin'

Zig Ziglar coined negativity as stinkin’ thinkin’. He was so right. Negativity will bring you down. It impedes growth. It can ruin you.

I’ve learned that negative thinking has no place in my life if I want to succeed. Negativity is so draining. Sometimes I even start to feel sick when there’s too much of it around me.  

I used to ask myself, “Aren’t I allowed to wallow even just a little bit”? The simple answer is NO. This morning I read a section in Brian Tracy’s book “Goals”. He says that negativity is a result of a person not taking full responsibility for the results of her actions.

I watch people complain on Facebook. I wonder why they look to the Internet to dump their worries. Complaining gets words of encouragement.  It seems like everyone is trying to live in their own reality TV show.

I got onto Facebook to find out where all my old friends were and what the people I knew were up to.

I don’t write a lot of status updates because my life isn’t that interesting.  When things bother me, I tend to internalize them first.

Then I started blogging. I started to blog for three reasons:

1.       I have a goal to write a book.

2.       I was told to be a better writer, I needed to write every day.

3.       I learned that journaling was important for self improvement.

People started commenting on my writings. The personal experience of writing became less important than the feedback.

It is energizing to get words of encouragement. It is fulfilling to think I am helping. I opened my chest and bore it to the world.  And the feedback has been amazing.   Each time a comment comes through, I get an email. Just the fact of getting an email makes me feel special. The dopamine effect is very addictive.

I wrote a blog about boredom and my mom called me. As any good mom, she’s worried. That’s one of the reasons I love her, she cares about me.  The stinkin’ thinkin’ of my weekend de-motivated me. It caused conversations that didn’t need to happen. Why did I feel that way? It doesn’t matter. I have to take responsibility to pick myself up and get going again. And so I have, because I control my life. I am the only one responsible for the crappy way I feel. I may not be able to control actions of others, however I can control how I process the actions and how I react to them. 

Life is too great for negativity. Here's my new coping strategy. Next time I'm down I'm gonna go look at pictures of babies and puppies. If that doesn't change my mood, then nothing will.

Ta ta for now!

 

Power of Now

I wake up some days thinking that I’m a failure. I ask myself “What do I really know”? I’ve had success in business. I have a wonderful family who loves me. I have a good support network and I am in reasonable health. Yet I feel like I’m not where I’m supposed to be.

I am where I am because I am.  There is no such thing as “supposed to be” is something I heard once. The presence of being in the now is much more important than yesterday and tomorrow. 

Living in the now is tough. It’s appreciating all of the little things. It’s enjoying life as it happens. It’s being happy.

I know someone who recently survived a scare with cancer. The person he is today is much different than the person I knew 2 years ago. Putting things in perspective, he got a new chance on life. And he sees life's minutia very different than I. In his Facebook posts, I see a more positive, energetic ray of light. I am so happy for him.

In grieving a co-worker's death 12 years ago, I vowed that I would not take life for granted. Yet I did just that as death's feeling slipped away from my perception. What if today was the last day of my life? What would I do differently? I've got to make an impact with every moment I have left. I can feel it slipping away from me.

That's a heavy dose of mortality! 

Eckhart Tolle’s book “Power of Now” is a book that I’m going to read again. The last time I read it, I put some of his thoughts into action. One afternoon I put all of my worries away. I remember feeding the ducks.  Watching them interact with each other and with my children was magnetic. It's such a vivid moment in time because I was totally present with my kids. The kids were happy. The phone was at home. Life was perfect. Then it kicked back in. Dreams, goals, to-do lists, stresses, email, phone calls, TV…

Living for today is the most important thing any of us can do. I really need to read that book again. I’ve lost my way with so much focus on goals and to-do lists. My kids are getting older. Soon enough I’m gonna wish I could return to the past to enjoy them. I got them right now. It's easy to say but it's f'ing hard.

Life passes us by as we think about we need to do tomorrow and what we already did yesterday. If I was to be graded on life, I would give myself a C. Barely passing by, doing the necessary, but not excelling. 

I got a lot to learn...

Lowest form of conversation

I remember a few years ago I watching the Soprano's series. In one of the episodes, Tony Soprano and two of his henchmen were reminiscing. A darkness comes over Tony, and when asked what's wrong, he says, "Remember when is the lowest form of conversation".

It's ok to remember the past. We have to remember our past so we don't repeat the same mistakes in the present. We cannot forget.

It's not the remembering that's the problem, it's the living in the past. To live in the past, talking about what use to be means you're looking too much in the rearview mirror. It may suggest when we spend too much remembering that we are forgetting our present or our future. Life was lived, but we need to live on.

"Remember when's" are fun. They are nostalgic, but the conversation ultimately needs to change.

I get the "remember when's" out of my system every year with an annual get-together with old childhood friends. The times are fun. I get to relive my past and listen to old stories. The old stories are always the same, but the laughs never are. I've been doing that once a year for the past 16 years. I wouldn't trade that day away. In fact I look forward to it every year.

We cannot live in the past.

My dad and I used to go hunting together. We would walk to our deer blind before sunrise, then wait until daylight for the deer to emerge. One morning, as we creeped along the dirt road, our flashlights fell upon a new set of deer tracks. I was excited. If there were deer on the road, maybe we'll get a shot this morning. I started thinking about what might be. In his wisdom, my dad said, "Don't get excited, the tracks taste muddy".

Dad basically told me not to live in the future either.

I get caught up thinking about what could be, what I will do and what I want. It's what drives me forward all of the time. I try not to live in the future, and it's my wife who constantly brings me back. Sometimes I feel like Leonardo DiCaprio's character in "Inception". It's so easy to get lost in this forward thinking mindset.

The present is the only place life happens. We can prepare for the future. We can set goals for the future. But life happens right now.

I could go on for hours, but my kids are waiting for me. I need to spend it with them today.

Ta ta for now.

Am I bored?

I hear the words "I'm bored" all the time. My son needing to be entertained states them as a matter of fact so someone will play with him. Using the tactics that my parents used on me never works on my kids. When I give him something to do, he just laughs and slouches back into the chair.

Today, I know how he feels. In between laziness and depression, boredom settles in like a kitten cuddling for the night. I hate being bored. It's limiting. It's draining. It's awful.

At first I thought I was just being lazy, so I went and cleaned the garage. Four hours went by like 10 minutes. The garage is no where near finished but at least I accomplished something. I don't have the energy to read, to exercise, to talk to anyone or to do anything but sit in front of a TV or computer.

Not knowing what depression really is, I entertained the idea that I was encroaching on it. So I went for a nap. Hoping to sleep away whatever it is did not work. Although the nap felt great, I still feel this heavy weight on my shoulders.

Did I not get enough sleep last night? Am I not eating right? Not enough exercise? Probably all of the above.

I know one thing. I don't like this feeling.

Since I don't know what to call this feeling, I'll call it boredom.

Here's to a better tomorrow...

Ta ta for now.

Everything repeats

My high school history teacher used to scream, "Those who fail to know their history are doomed to repeat it". We had to analyze the similarities between Napoleon and Hitler. And that if Hitler had learned anything from Napoleon, he wouldn't have invaded Russia.

History repeats itself all the time. Madonna becomes Britney Spears, Michael Jordan becomes Lebron James. Michael Jackson becomes Justin Timberlake. Recently I read that  the percentages are extremely high for a teenage mother to be a grandmother in her thirties and maybe even a great grandmother by her early fifties. That's three generations of teenage pregnancies.

In Disney's movie, "The Lion King", there's a discussion between Mustafa, the dad, and Simba, the lion cub. Mustafa explains there's a circle of life that exists. I've used that term to explain how we are doomed to make the same mistakes as our parents unless we realize what mistakes they have made. And how to avoid them.

Although we can look at our individual actions compared to our parents, when looking at an entire generation, we do learn from our parents' generation as a whole. There is substantial studies that demonstrate society learns from one generation while making the same mistakes/advancements as another. Generationally we do the same as our great-great grandparents. The theory says that each generational cycle is approximately 20 years. For us to repeat, four generations have to pass. So every 80 years, is when we start doing the same things as our ancestors.

Approximately every 80 years, there is a major conflict for the United States. What happens in the US has and will always affect Canadians.

1939-1945 World War II
1861-1865 American Civil War
1775-1783 American Revolution

Imagine the start of a decade: A new technology was invented. There were only a few people who knew how to use it. The money supply doubled in just 8 years. Spending was high, worries were low. Confidence in Wall Street was also high. By the end of the decade, everyone took the new technology for granted. And the western world went into a recession. The year was 1929. The new technology was radio. This is eerily similar to the 2000's, with the internet gaining momentum. By the end of the decade, the collapse of the economy due to mortgage back securities mirrors 1929. Just 80 years after it happened the first time, it happened again.

In 1919, Major League Baseball was rocked by "The Black Sox" scandal in which the Chicago team threw the World Series in order to get paid by their mafia buddies. Almost 80 years later cheating again was identified as the problem but this time in the form of  performance enhancing drugs.

1840ish - invention of the telephone
1920ish - invention of radio
1995ish- invention of internet

I can go on, but you get my point.

No need to go to a psychic to know the future. Start studying your past.

We survive because we know how to work together

Why are humans the dominant species on Earth? I've heard it's our ability to communicate. It's our thumbs. It's our ability to think in complexity. I'm sure I'm missing a few.

It's not our mere strength. Lions, tigers, bears, and alligators are all stronger than us. Yet we rule the world. 

We rule the world because we knew how to work effectively as a community. Humans would not dominate without the help of the rest of tribe.

How many times have I met people who failed to ask for help when they needed it. They chose to solve their problems on their own, only to fail miserably in the end. When you're drowning, ask for a life preserver. It's not time to learn how to swim!

All success is created by the hard work of an entire team. No one wins the game without the help of others. We need to learn when to ask for help.  

As history suggests, we can solve all of the world's dangers when we work together. When there is a disconnect in the tribe, danger will always trump.

When the main philosophy is "Everyone for themselves", we all lose.

If we continue to not work together, forget aliens from outer space. The tigers will become the next dominant species on Earth. 

Bragging isn't always bad

Bragging is a bad word, right? If you hear someone say, "That guy kept on bragging...", you would think the person was full of himself. Wouldn't you.

My parents are not the bragging type and they taught me the same way. I have to catch myself from being a blowhort from time to time. I get so excited of what I'm working on that I forget that others may interpret it as me bragging about myself.

This morning, I read a blog from Tim Miles that threw my idea of bragging on its head. Bragging is a good exercise when used in the right context.

When I think of bragging, I think of someone boasting about his/her accomplishments. However, a braggart can be someone who pumps someone else up. A braggart can be a boss, a co-worker, a friend or a parent. The ability to praise someone, to tell a third party how great a person is or to show them off in public isn't to fulfill the braggart's ego needs. It's to show appreciation and accomplishment of someone other than self.

In this scenario, we need to be better braggarts. We need to remember to recognize others accomplishments and to celebrate them even in the smallest of ways.

As I raise my children, I see their little egos inflated each time I tell others how proud I am of them. I remember the small celebrations when we were potty training. The little potty dances, the high fives, and the treats are forever engrained in my brain.

We're not a complicated species. Recognition makes everyone feel better. When someone pumps my tires, I've noticed recently that it always makes me feel better. And I thought recognition didn't motivate me. It makes me feel better by giving me a hit of dopamine every time.

And there we have it. Because of the dopamine effect, we get addicted to recognition, just like smoking, drinking, gambling, etc.

If you're looking for people to perform outstanding results or if you want people to like you, all you have to do is brag them up every chance you get. We like people who makes us feel good about ourselves.

Brag away. Make sure it's always about others and not yourself. We don't like people who pump their own tires...

Honestly, I'm telling the truth

Thou shall not tell a lie. One of the sacred 10 rules that Moses brought to us.

So Moses, people lie. My wife started lying to me the second year we were together . I met her when she was 29 years old. She never aged for 10 years. Shallow, little white lies that don't hurt anyone.

There are two categories of lies: ones that hurt and those that don't. So lying is ok? My parents never taught me about the lies that were ok...

Early in my marriage, my wife asked me if she was getting fat. How do you answer that question without getting in trouble? She knows if she's packed on a few. She should have asked if I could tell she was gaining weight.

Relationship Lesson #1: Be honest.
Lesson #2: Never tell you're wife she's getting fat.

I failed that day in seeing the real question. I learned from my failure and refuse to ever get into that conversation again. I hurt her with my honesty. It is better to lie in order to keep people from getting hurt?

I tell my kids the truth will hurt. The lie will hurt more. You better hope if you're lying I don't find out.

There are people every day who tell me about their honesty. It's like they have to wear blinking lights to promote their good intentions. I wonder if these people are overcompensating for the lies they have told.

I read once that people who promote their honesty too often are the opposite. Honest people act, well honestly. They don't need to tell others they are honest because that's a given.

Recently, I started studying the art of reading a lie. Just like poker players, when being dishonest, people have different "tells". If I learn to read the tell, I'll keep these pretty little liars away from me.

If telling the truth hurts more than the lie, I'm going to call that exception to the rule.  

Here's to you 'ole friend...

What is a friend? There are all kinds of the positive words of wisdom that describe a friend on the Internet. Facebook is famous for labelling everyone you know as friends.

People call themselves friends, when in fact, they are merely acquaintances. If a person has more than a couple of true friends in the world, they are very lucky. Sometimes a spouse is the true friend. Sometimes a family member is the best friend. Sometimes a dad, sometimes a mom. We find our friend who best mirrors us. They do as we do. They think as we think.

As children, our best friends are the kids that are interested in the same activities as we are. So whether it's sports, chess, video games, partying, painting or any other like minded activity, we find these special people there. Honesty, care, respect, trust are all qualities we bestow on these "friends", whether they deserve it or not. It is with this power, we find if these people are in fact our true buddies.

Friends have come and gone in my lifetime. Distance, changing in interests, self destructing behaviours, and girls have all torn chums away from me. Were they really friends? Probably not. We had a lot of good times together though. When I'm feeling nostalgic, it's these times that I wish I could relive with them again.

Once I had a good buddy whom I would've done anything for. I could sense something changing in his attitude. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I could feel it. His sarcasm was one of the qualities I liked about him, but then his sarcastic responses started to penetrate like daggers piercing my skin. One day, I asked him to go out for a beer. He said he was busy. That was 7 years ago. I haven't seen him since. At first, I was really busy with work. I was able to move my focus away from personal issues into my company. To this day, I don't know what I did to him.

Now that I sold my business, I look back and wonder what the hell happened. Does ego stop me from calling him today? Probably a bit. The fact that something was wrong before the friendship ended is evident. I don't think I'd want to be his friend today, so why would I call him. We drifted apart just like many of the other friends I've had since childhood. Different interests coupled with lack of time and add in a bit of distance. Is that one of the recipes for failed friendship?

Don't think so... I have a friend in Halifax. I haven't seen him nor talked to him in 8 years. He was the best man at my wedding. We grew up together, played basketball together and shared an apartment at university. I love him like a brother.  If he needs me for anything, I will be at his house tomorrow morning, no questions asked.

I wonder if I have anyone who feels the same way about me...

Will it work?

Anyone who doesn't sign their own paycheck doesn't understand the challenges faced with being in business for oneself. It takes guts. Real courage to weather the storm when things go wrong. Never forget, there are always things that go wrong. Many entrepreneurs confess that having a job is easier than owning a business. Yet they choose to do the more challenging of the two.

Not everyone is cut out to be an entrepreneur. People who work for others only see the greener grass. They see the money, the nicer house or the fancy vacation. They may not see the 24-7 aspect of living. Entrepreneurship is not a career choice. It's a way of life.

I'm approached by friends, family and sometimes complete strangers constantly about the viability of a business idea.  Here's the different types of answers I've given over the years.

Q: Will this idea work?

A1: It will only work as hard as you do. Are you prepared to work harder than you've ever done in your life?

A2: Have you written a business plan and/or done some research?

A3: An idea is only as good as the paper it's written on. It's the execution that will determine if you're to have success.

A4: I have at least 5 good ideas every day. Most of them don't work because I'm not committed to carry them through. Are you?

A5: What are your goals and vision for the company?

A6: Do you have access to enough capital (money) to execute the idea?

A7: If you would have asked me about a Tim Horton's franchise in the 1960's, I would have said you were crazy. That's how much I know about business. I'm probably the wrong guy to ask.

A8: What are you prepared to sacrifice for this idea?

There are no guarantees to success in business. One person can fail miserably, while the other makes her riches in the same enterprise. Timing, hard work, commitment, capital, vision, execution and sacrifice all play a role in the success of the business. The idea itself is only a small component to success.

The next time you have an idea about a business, read these 8 answers. Once you've taken the gut check and still feel confident, go ask an entrepreneur what they think of your idea.

Will you work? If not, I guarantee neither will your idea...

Can you do me a favour?

I got a parking ticket in December. It was a snowy, blustery day. I tried getting into one of the parking lots, but they were all full. I ended up parking at a meter. The damn thing expired before I got back and it felt like someone was watching for it to expire so they could get $30.00 out of me, instead of a few quarters. 

I hate taxation. Especially when it's stupid taxation. Government at all levels squander most of the money we give them. I accept some taxation like income, property, and sales. I can convince myself that only people with money have to pay these bills. It helps a broken system feel like its still working. It's the small useless taxation that serves nothing except annoyance that pisses me off. 

Then last week, as I'm trying to help stimulate the economy in getting more jobs, more revenues, more taxes for the province and the city, I come back to my car 10 minutes late to bright white bastard of a ticket. I was parked in the 12 hour spots, where $1 gets you an hour of parking. 

I can't explain how much I hate seeing my tax dollars wasted on some guy running around handing out tickets.

Yesterday, my wife asked to run into a bookstore downtown. There is always ample parking in front of the building, with meters. I was going in for 2 minutes, getting the book and leaving. Without a quarter in my pocket, I second guessed my next move. Do I risk gambling $1 for potential loss of $30? It seems like a really dumb thought process now, but I want to make up value for the $30 that I now owe them for last week.

I chose the riskier option. In my hurriedness, a homeless man stopped me. He asked, "Can you do me a favour"? Not having time to spare for wasteless conversation, I abruptly responded, "Sorry I don't have any money"? A total lie. I had $5 in my pocket. I didn't want to spend it on parking. I didn't want a ticket. 

I assumed he wanted money. Maybe he wanted a coffee. I didn't give him any respect as a person. As I'm speed walking to the bookstore, he asks rhetorically, "Why is everyone so rude in Moncton"? 

The city of honesty, the city of goodness, my city...in this guy's eyes is rude. Actually he's saying I'm rude. I got the book, rushed back to the car to stop any meter maid who may be trying to stealthfully poke me again. No one there, but the homeless guy, sitting on the freezing ground watching all of the hurried people go from point A to point B.

The city didn't get my money today. I was happier to help out someone sitting on the ground. Feeling partly guilty, I placed a twoonie in his hand and said, "You need this more than I do brother. Have a great day". 

 

As I left, I thought about the two conversations I had with this stranger. I could have bought him a coffee but that would have been presumptuous of me. Maybe the guy doesn't like coffee. I could have asked him to watch the meter for me and to distract any potential tax officers. I could have given him the money the first time I walked by him. In either case, I feel good about my decision. My kids would've blown the two bucks on a useless toy with their next visit to the Dollar store. Either way the money wasn't going to be mine.

Whatever way I look at it, homelessness has to suck for those living on the streets. They all have demons that have brought them there. They need help to get out of that rut. I've heard that we shouldn't enable homeless people with money. If the money bought this guy a cheap bottle of wine or a hit of crack, I don't care. If he can get through another day, I hope I did my part. 

Homelessness is a problem. As I sit in my warm house, with food in the fridge, gas in my cars and money in the bank, I can't help but think about those who have absolutely nothing.

Next time you're confronted by a homeless person, take a quarter and help them out. You'll be surprised how good you'll feel about yourself afterward.