Did I have a monster at my school?

I was 13 years old. It was the summer of '86. We were at the softball field, like we were every summer. My dad was playing softball. I was goofing around like most young teenagers. No longer a child, definitely not an adult, sexuality was a term I didn't understand.

Someone started teasing me. A few years older, this young adult started telling me that my middle school had a teacher that liked to touch little boys. It was funny for her. She was laughing, and oohing and ahhing. Not for me, this mysterious teacher was to be one of my teachers. I was supremely scared. Worse part was it seemed to be common knowledge that this teacher was the "touching" type. For a young boy, the boogeyman had just reemerged as the touchyman. I was stressed out. I didn't know what to expect. My parents told me to keep my guard up. Keep my guard up from what? I wanted to say, "I don't understand". I was 13, I knew everything, and even if I didn't, I shall pretend that I do.

So I started in that school. The teacher ended up being a real nice guy. He wasn't nearly as bad as everyone had painted him to be. He was quite involved in one of my passions, sports. Every year, he would hold a 2 week "Athlete of the Year" competition. It was our annual Olympics. Without a doubt, it was the best competition of sport I have ever been a part of.

During the competition, stories started emerging again. The teacher tried to touch one guy. He tried to do something else to another guy. He invited one kid in a shower. He took another boy shopping. He cut one kids hair and tried to touch his tail bone. The stories were endless. Now 14, I started learning about sex. I was confused. Was the teasing true? Was this guy a monster disguised as a nice guy? Weren't bad people supposed to be mean?

I had that teacher for 3 years. I liked him. He was smart. He treated me like an adult, when no one else would. Always having other kids with me, we would do things with the teacher. There were trips. We helped serve the seniors supper one year. There was always a Christmas celebration with his favourites. And every year, the athletic competition...

The final year he was at our school, I was in grade nine. We were the elders of the school. Basketball practice kept me at the school after hours more often than most. Some new stories started to emerge. It was clear, that I had to keep my guard up. Most of the stories could easily have been mistaken for stories by foolish young boys. So I wasn't sure what to believe. Until one evening after basketball practice. One of my teammates, who didn't fit in with the average jock. He was a classmate and I considered him a friend. He wasn't the storytelling type. After practice he told me he had no choice but to go see this teacher upstairs. He told me that he used to willingly go but now he was afraid to be left alone with him. He asked me if I would stay with him so that nothing funny would happen.

What changed? I was too scared to ask.

The stories that surround this teacher were as mysterious as the way he left. In our small town, do we have a secret? One day, the teacher was gone. Some say, he was dismissed for going too far with a boy. Some say, he just left.

Is it time that the little boys start speaking up? Or are these a bunch of stories fabricated by over-imaginative homophobic minds? Either way, 26 years have passed and I would like to know the truth. This man has either been the brunt of unjust stories or he's a monster. I hold my judgement on him.

Sometimes I think I missed something...

I’ve been in business for 20 years. I have 7 years of post secondary education which I came out with a Master’s Degree in Business. I have started 3 separate businesses over the last 7 years and was successful in selling all of them. 

Last week, I spent a day with a bunch of smart, younger “entrepreneurs” and I heard a bunch of language that I didn’t fully understand. Words, terminology, funding, government departments and ways of speaking that sounded so complicated. I came home feeling really stupid. It seems like the world has passed me by. Have I missed the train to future entrepreneurship? Am I one of those people that didn't keep up with technology and the new generation is out producing me?

Here’s what I figured out:

Government loves technology. They support technology because of the ability to output products internationally. It has the ability to create jobs, tax revenues and can stimulate the economy quickly because of its scalability and scope.  In my province, the government has tagged $80 million per year to support these high growth potential business start-ups.

There are a lot of really cool ideas out there. But they are JUST ideas. The problem with ideas is that it costs money to translate the idea into a finished saleable product. Any idea, technological or not, needs to be translated into a business that can make money. That's the difficult part. 

The sexy start-up entrepreneurs that I met with talk about hundreds of thousands of dollars of needed seed money like my mother talks about ten dollar bills. “We only need $800,000 to go to market”.  The product is speculative. The business is speculative. The sales are speculative. Is the idea interesting? Of course it is. The only difference between sexy start-ups and traditional start-ups is the ability for the sexy company to go the billion dollar category. 

At the end of the day, a business is not a business unless it can create sustainable sales to support current expenses. 

I’ve learned to look for an entrepreneur’s personal vision for the company. Is it to sell it to a bigger entity? Is it to make the world a better place? Is it a personal journey?  Find the real reason for existing, and you'll find the motivation of the entrepreneur. 

Find the motivation of the entrepreneur and you'll find the real risk behind any start-up.

I worry about tech start-ups. They get more money. They get more attention. They get more interest. But at the end of the day they still need to generate sales, just like any other company.

A tech start-up is no different than any other business. Just because it may be sexy doesn't mean we get any further ahead by investing in it. 

Be careful before you speculate in a tech start-up. The payoff can be bigger, but the risk is generally greater as well. It's risky and speculative just like any other traditional business start-up. Don't let the sexy part lure you in like a burlesque dancer. 

Are you a shy guy (gal)?

For years I labelled myself as being shy. I watched my father interact with ease. I observed people make friends without effort. Talking to someone took great effort on my part unless I knew them really well. I can make "small talk" with anyone. But it takes great effort on my part. I was told that I was just shy.

Here's what I was told about shyness. Shyness is a derivative of a lack of confidence and self esteem. That didn't make sense to me. I wasn't lacking in those two areas. I learned around 16 how to fix the shy. Just add alcohol. And repeat. So during university, I drank 3-4 nights per week. I was the animal on campus. It felt like I knew everyone.

That wasn't a long term solution. I thought about how alcohol could play a role in my daily life. I understood how some could twirl into alcoholism, not to escape but to be released of the cursed shyness virus.

Then it all started to come together. I watched an employee blossom from a 14 year old boy to a young man. I watched him as he made friends super easily. I listened to him as he became president of his high school and then again as he pursued his studies into medicine. This guy is a mover and a shaker. He is so outgoing, you can't help but love him. I don't know anyone who doesn't like him. He just has that personality. We all know people like this, right?

Then I went to Texas and learned something else. People are either introverts or extroverts. I thought I knew what they difference was until it was explained this way.

Extroverts get energy from being around other people. The employee I worked with was an extreme extrovert.

Introverts get energy from being in solitude. In fact, introverts love people. They just find it very draining.

For years, I thought I was an outgoing person. When in fact when the tests were done, I was an extreme introvert. I love being around people. But when it comes time, I am more than excited to leave, unless you add alcohol.

Anyone who's ever done a hard day of physical labour will know what it's like to say, "I'm beat". Barely able to lift the fork to eat your supper, they head off to bed because of the body fatigue that has consumed every inch of their being. Being around many people has the same effect on an introvert on an emotional scale.

The next time you see someone that you know and they don't feel like talking, don't take it personal. I bet they are not mad at you. They're probably an introvert like me and they're just beat.

 

You're so selfish...

I am selfish.

Raised in a family where things weren't easily available, I used to envy others. I didn't realize at the time, but now that I look back on it, we were poor.

My parents always found a way to have food in the house. Dad would hunt. He would grow a garden in the summer. Mom preserved fruits and strawberry jam. Food wasn't the problem. It was the other stuff that a young boy wanted.

I wanted to stop black cylindrical weapons being hurled at me. I wanted to play hockey. My cousin played hockey. We would play hockey whenever we had a chance - the hallway, the livingroom, the front yard, the driveway, at school. We were inseparable. He was the guy who would score the goals, and I would stop them. Together we would win school floor hockey championships. Apart, we had the greatest battles.  He made me a better hockey player.

I was crushed the first year my parents said they couldn't afford hockey. I was only 7. After that, I never asked again. It was at that time, I realized money was essential for the things I wanted. I became obsessed with it. I started mowing lawns at age 9, working on a farm at 11, raising foxes and babysitting at 14, and ultimately getting my first summer job at 15.

Money was scarce in my house. My parents used to say I was mean with my money. Meaning, I was greedy. I didn't want to spend it. If I didn't have any desire for something, I didn't want to spend it. The dreams of what it could buy were always better than the real thing. I didn't know what it meant at the time but I was practicing delayed gratification.

Delayed gratification is something we don't see much of anymore. If I want something, I go get it. If I don't have the money, I put it on my credit card.

My kids believe they can have whatever they want if they have a piece of plastic. They're selfish too. They're allowed to be since they are still kids. We are training them slowly.

I don't have that same right. I am in the generation that needs to be giving back. I have been trained for years that money is scarce.

I am trying to learn selflessness. I know happiness lies in unconditional giving. Money is not scarce. Someone always has less.

Once upon a time...

Four famous words that start almost every story we heard as children. Together they get us juiced for something great about to happen. The ability to tell a great story is not within everyone. We know people who tell amazing, crazy stories that take us on a journey, as if we are right there witnessing the event with our own eyes.

Stories have been around since the dawn of time. My grandfather could tell a great story. I remember sitting in his living room as he would tell us a story about his childhood. Some of it was so far-fetching, it felt like he wasn't telling the true story, but it didn't matter. It was so entertaining that the truth wasn't important. You could see his eyes light up. I could see him in his glory as he laughed and told the story with  with passion. My dad would tease him by saying, "The only way you could tell when Grampie wasn't lying is when his lips stopped moving".

We love stories. We love to tell stories.

Humans are the only creatures on this earth that will take a food and trade it for entertainment. We spend our money, which we could use for basic necessities like food and shelter, and trade it for entertainment. Entertainment is a thirst. We desire it. In my childhood, when money was scarce, we would entertain ourselves with stories. Today it's movie theatres, cable tv, etc.

Have traditional storytelling taken a back seat to our entertainment needs?

Go to a party and the most interesting person there will be the one with an ability to tell a good story. You'll listen to every word. Hang on every pause. You'll wait for the punchline. Some of those stories will be in form of jokes. And some will be in form of personal stories. You'll wonder how some people have such interesting lives. In fact, these people have the ability to use words, and pauses to paint a picture that is so real it's like you were right there living it with them.

I had a friend in university that was like that. I always wanted to be with him because his nightly adventures were explained the next day with zest. He detailed simple, boring events with grandeur. His life was so interesting the way he told it. I wanted a piece of that so we would go adventure hunting together. Funny thing was his stories were far better than the real deal. It was fun being around him because the stories never stopped. Everything an adventure, but it was more of the mind than anything else.

Every good story has to have some drama. The video below explains the Karpman Drama Triangle. Every great story we were told as children had three roles: hero, victim and villian. For a good story to emerge, we need three characters: Prince Charming, Step Mother and Cinderella.

The stories of our lives are played out daily in the exact same way. We never play the villain in our own story. That role is left for someone evil. We play the role of victim or hero. When we play the role of victim, drama is created when we summon a hero to save the day. Funny enough, the villain in your story looks at you as the villain in their story. Once all three roles are fulfilled, we have developed a dramatic triangle that can create poison within a family or workplace.

The only way to escape the drama triangle is to not join in. Although every good storyteller has the ability to draw you in, you have to be careful. Getting involved emotionally or physically could easily mean that you've become one of the three characters in the play.

And all we thirst for is a really good story, right?

Be careful!

Living a life with no regret...

Remember Frank Sinatra singing a song about regrets? Elvis also sang about it.  It has always been one of my favourite songs. I listen to it to escape my current fears.

As I age, I am more genuinely interested in my parents' generation. I spoke to a gentleman recently who spoke about all of the business decisions he didn't take in life. On top of it, he blamed his wife for being too cautious, for holding him back. He blamed his family for not allowing him to take chances. He needed to provide for them. Going after a dream may have meant they would go hungry. Because I really respect this older fella, I didn't call him on his bullshit. I could still smell the fear on him. He was lamenting about his regrets.

It is regret I don't want to have in the twilight of my life. I am trying to live my life without regret. Everything I do, I do it to the best of my ability.

I read recently, that on our deathbed, regret is represented by all the things we wanted to do but didn't take the time to do them. So when I die, I don't want to be thinking about all of the things I didn't take the time to do. Why can't I do them now?

I will die one day. While I'm alive, I wanna live my life with no regrets. I wanna die knowing I've done everything I possibly could have on my time on Earth.

I don't spend enough time with family and friends. I get so caught up in my big hairy goals that I forget all of those people who mean so much to me.

We are defined by the loving relationships that we have. Yet sometimes, we fade away from those relationships because of work, distance, and time.

Yet on our deathbed, the only thing that matters is the people close to you. Work won't mourn you. Houses don't mourn you. Your boss probably won't mourn you. But your friends and family will. You will leave a hole in their hearts that is irreparable.

I miss my family. I miss getting together once per year to "catch up", to get some deep hugs and to see all of the new generation running around and playing like we once did. My kids don't realize how big their family is. We tell them about everyone, but they don't get it.

With that said, maybe the couple of weddings coming up will bring everyone together again. Then from there, I have to make it happen more regularly. Time is too precious.

Ta ta for now.

Letter to sociopath #2

I don't know what you were thinking. You had a loving family. You had 20+ people who had your back on anything you ever needed. We would have fought for you, with you. You wouldn't have had to stand on your own two feet. We would have held you up. We were family.

But you changed all that. Greed consumed you. You hurt the people that loved you the most. And you constantly manipulated, lied, cheated and stole your way to loneliness.

You're still part of our family, but now it's of the "outcast" variety. You didn't need to do what you did. Money will not buy you happiness. I bet ya know that now.

It's been over 20 years since this all happened. It's as fresh today as it was back then. You hurt me. You hurt my family. We can never forget that.

I haven't seen you in over 10 years. Every time I drive by your house, I look in. Not sure why. There's this hurt that just doesn't go away. I'm proud of my family. I'm proud of what we've accomplished. I'm pissed off that you started all of this over a couple of dollars.

You were the baby. You were spoiled. You never experienced the same hardships your older siblings endured.

I will never forget the way you treated me when I worked with you. I will never let you close to my family again. I know I need to forgive you. You do not know better. It's actually sad to see you live your life in such disharmony. I hear stories about your anger, your arguments and your personal relationships. I feel really sorry for you.

I realize now the way you act has less to do with us and more to do with your own personal greed. Sometimes I think you're crazy to have traded a few dollars for the love and comfort of your family. I can't understand that because I don't think like you. My family is too important to me.

Money is easy to make. Loving relationships are hard to find.

I forgive you. You didn't know better. You cannot hurt me anymore!