“Veronica, there is a romantic appreciation for eating on the sidewalk. Paris is famous for having tables outside where you can eat, drink and watch the people go by.”

At our table right below the interstate highway, there are no people walking by.  The Pandemic added the ambiance of tightly masked wait staff and roaring traffic. I shrugged “Here we can only watch cars drive by, not people.”

“Look mommy, there is a doggie! Care are interesting!”

I smiled, still grateful for the experience of being fed outside my home. Even cars driving by are novel right now.

Restaurants were not a thing in the oldest books I’ve read. Don Quixote and Shakespeare only have food in homes or inns. Restaurants came along later.

The prize for first restaurant goes to China, centuries before France got the idea. France started fancy restaurants about a hundred years before their famous revolution. This fits, because if France was the first to have meals served at a restaurant, they also had a counter-movement with the cafes.

Café in French, and in a lot of other languages – literally means Coffee.

You know how—when they are open—Starbucks is a nice place to buy a cup of coffee and hang out?

That’s what the Cafes started as. It’s too much of a commitment to buy a whole meal. But a coffee? Almost everyone can afford a cuppa joe. London had these Cafes as well, and all this egalitarian sitting around together had an effect. Ever hear of the Age of Enlightenment? All those diverse people mingling together and talking came up with some crazy ideas. Some of them stuck.

Isaac Newton, Hobbes, Galileo and the Thomas-es Paine and Jefferson are products of this coffee pot.

Having a place to explore ideas will change the world. The United States of America is directly a result if it.

But the time I was thinking of when I mentioned sidewalk cafes to my daughter was the glamorous Paris between the wars. Coco Chanel, Picasso, James Joyce and Josephine Baker ate on the sidewalk.

They didn’t have the interstate highway along with. But I think they were pretty sure the world was changing. They were doing everything they could to change it.  They were being as much themselves as they possibly could be, which changed everything.

I would sure like things to change for the better. I know I can’t do much to change other people, but I’d like to follow what those artists did. The best I can do for today is eat outside. That’s a little better.

And adding my little bit of wonder to the week is good too.

If we judge by how hard it is to find camping gear, most of America has packed their cars and pitched a tent in a National Park this summer.

It’s the sort of thing Karl Marx would have approved of, but the National Parks are an American invention. At this time, there are 61 parks set aside for people to visit. Protected and preserved, the federal government maintains these parks for tourists.

These places are really unique. They are unbelievable. In fact, most people didn’t believe it.

The traveler’s tall tale is well known. Homer’s Odyssey had impossible stories that couldn’t be found in real life- the cyclops and sirens threatening the sailors’ lives. Marco Polo claimed to have seen marvels on his trip to China.

And the national parks have to be seen to be believed. Geysers can’t be a real thing! Until you see it. And you see several the same day, like I did in Yellowstone. I could not have imagined it until I saw it myself.

Sequoia trees, inconceivably large, were actually used in sideshows. They would fell a tree, cut it into pieces and reassemble it at the far end. Except—people still didn’t believe it was real. It was just too incredible.

Americans hear about these natural wonders, but not very many people could go. Once trains were built, some visitors could come. But when roads and cars caught up, that’s when people could finally make the trip. 50s families took to the road to see for themselves.

1950s and 60s, people drove all over the country. What followed was a time of big change of uprooting. People saw for themselves.

And now, this year, people are driving over to places they remember or have always wanted to see. They are getting away from their homes and seeing more of America.

People have been set free, too, to work from home. Americans can contemplate how they might pack up their internet and go somewhere else.

More things are possible than we had assumed. Between the interstate highway and the information highway, there are a lot of choices.

I wonder how America is going to look in ten years.

We’ve all been cooped up, you know? When we heard they were opening the national parks we jumped. Ack up

The cat and away we go.

Those places take my breath away and make me think.

We were not the first people to see the Grand Canyon. But someone was. One of those first people had to wonder:

How would they ever get past it?  

either go down through it, or find a way to go around it,

Hard to say which was harder. You can’t easily tell the depth of the edges of this huge canyon.

But what caused it?  Surely the finger of a gigantic god dug out this terrible groove. That’s half what I believe today as I look at it.

Then the scientists took a look at it and did their hypothesis/observation magic and gave an answer:

The water did this.

See that tiny silver squiggle? No, at the actual bottom.That’s the river. It did this.

All of it?

Yes, all of it.

If I hadn’t seen it, I would never believe it possible. 

I’ve known rocks and I’ve known rivers. They don’t behave this way.

This rock did. This river did.

Rocks are strong and rivers are soft. But there is something I haven’t realized.

What rivers have I been ignoring? What rocks have I taken for granted?

This pandemic has shifted a lot of things I counted on.

This Canyon reminds me there are things in the world I didn’t expect. Immovable rocks can crumble.

When  we rode mules partway down, I was impressed with how strong and tireless these mules were. The American west was tamed by mules.

But even still we stopped a lot on the way up. Mules are not in fact tireless. We have to take care of them so they can do what we ask them to.

Are you having a good day?

How about a nice day?

I think America started this greeting, “Have a nice day!”  It replaced the older “How do you do?” which became “howdy” before it feel out of use.

A day is a tidy package. It’s a handy size: small enough to grapple with, big enough to fit some significant things.

We can deal with a day. We can ask about a day, and give our wishe…command?…for others to have a nice day.

It’s not insincere. I wish for others to have a nice day, because I really want a nice day for myself.

I would like to put my day to good use, and really enjoy it. And by enjoy, I mean fill it with productive activity.

I think about it a lot. What will I do with my day? How will I pack it appropriately?

I try. Every day I have intentions, and I start out with ideas about how and when I will do what.

I never quite make it. And I feel particularly guilty about it during this quarantine because there is no excuse. I have nowhere else to be, nothing to do but what I set out for myself.

And I still do not hit my target.

I just found this book: Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey. He’s collected the stories of artists—musicians, writers, painters, etc.—how they arranged their days.

They are short little snapshots, with alcohol featuring prominently across many lives. There is not a consistent thread. It feels like a reality TV show: “ At least I don’t do THAT!”

These influencers, these famous names, were trying. They had weird, often inconsiderate and toxic habits and requirements they performed in their days.

I am comforted to know they didn’t hit it either. But the range—Mahler was austere, F. Scott Fitzgerald was a bacchanal—the range gives me room to keep trying.

I’m trying. I’m trying to have a good day.

It’s gonna take awhile.

My husband grew up with an Airedale terrier, and we have one. This is our second dog of the same breed. One of the good things about this breed is they don’t shed. Their hair is hair, not fur, and it is curly. Not quite as curly as a poodle, but definitely curly.

My hair is curly. We share that trait.

Stories about my kind of dog pop up sometimes. Airedale dogs were very popular at the turn of the 20^th century and that’s when most of the Airedale stories happen.

James Thurber wrote The Dog that Bit People, a story that makes me laugh not the least because I recognize in the illustrations of the grumpy dog as my kind of dog.

The story I want to tell is about Garret Augustus Morgan, who was born 1877 and became a very influential inventor. He left school after 6^th grade, and went on to  invent an award-winning smoke hood that helped fire fighters save lives. He got a medal and was made an honorary member of International Association of Fire Engineers. This invention was so effective it was used by the military in WW1.

About that time automobile traffic was becoming a thing, so he patented the green-yellow-red traffic lights so people could have some time to slow down.

These are some impressive, practical, and ingenious inventions. They have dramatically saved lives since they arrived.

They were not, however, the source of his commercial success. Garrett Morgan was black, the son of slaves. Because of bigotry, some people refused to buy his life saving smoke hood.

But his blackness gave him insight into a need that had not yet been addressed.

And this is where the dog comes in. Wait for it.

He was working on another invention in 1905– a liquid that would help smooth sewing machine needles so they wouldn’t catch on the fabric.  He noticed the chemical had another property: It could straighten hair.

As the story goes, he took this liquid and tested it on an Airedale.

Now, I know a few inventor types, and they can get pretty single-minded. I can picture Garrett Morgan wanting to find the right way to test this chemical.

But it wasn’t his Airedale.

It was his neighbor’s dog.

I am pretty sure Garrett Morgan was delighted to discover that his chemical solution worked very well as he straightened the coat of this local dog.

But he had not asked permission. He hadn’t even told his neighbor he would do this.

So after the successful hair treatment, doggie went home and was a stranger to his family. The dog’s owner wouldn’t let him in the house. What a transformation!

I can’t stop giggling at the idea of straightening a dog’s hair. Just how many treats did that take?

But Morgan launched a company of expanding hair care products. His photo in Wikipedia shows a very handsome black man with impeccably straightened hair.

I bet he was a fascinating man to talk to, and I can imagine his home constantly had experiments going on.

And my doggie was associated with that. I am delighted.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.

Genesis 1:1

My daughter just finished a month of theater class. Theaters in the pandemic are dark. Shut down.

During this time

This uncertain time…this unprecedented time…Now more than ever…people pulled in for survival.

Food, Lysol and toilet paper were hoarded and everything that wasn’t needed in the next 5 minutes was jettisoned.

Now more than ever, think about what REALLY matters…I bought a 10-pound bag of pinto beans.

Last week I finished the last bean. Still here. Even bought a few more (smaller) bags of beans.

What really matters now? I had focused on keeping the world working, keeping systems working and keeping my kid learning even without a school.

And then came summer, which was not much different since it meant even less to do with no school.

I scrambled for activities. Didn’t ANYBODY have anything fun?

Online theater class. She’s a born theater geek. Fun is what I was looking for.

I didn’t realize how much more she was looking for it. Fun learning that required her to look inside herself. Finally, someone was asking her to bring herself to the moment.

That hadn’t happened since the pandemic. Math, social studies and spelling was not a reflection of herself.

But being a character—that she invented—was.

That brought me back to what really matters. As the story goes, in the beginning God created. And that is how God made up God’s days. I am supposed to be that same spirit. The spirit that creates.

Veronica was asked to create. It scared her.

Creating is scary for everyone. There is this high standard for creating, that it must be 100% unique or it somehow doesn’t count.

Genesis 1 tells us the story first thing: “In the beginning God created.” And just to put that impossible standard to rest, the bible tells the same story again, but different: John 1 says “In the beginning was the word”

It’s like he completely plagiarized!

Yes, and it’s ok. John had a new way of saying the same story. A way that echoed and created in its own way. Which means I can do the same, pressure is off.

Veronica had a great teacher, who showed her how and encouraged her and it made her happy. Not hyper happy, but grounded and at peace happy.

Which is what really matters.

I found some time to create this week too. My tight little worried soul got to stretch a bit. It was worth it to play some music with my hands. And out some colored pencils to color.

I’m grateful for those pinto beans. And I am grateful I get to keep creating and bringing myself to my life. Now more than ever…

If I have to do it more than once, I should do it better the second time. That’s what I aim for, and I mostly hit it. Mostly.

But if I’m staying in a hotel for a weekend, I don’t make the effort to organize everything. Doesn’t seem worth it. I’ll only be there a couple days.

That’s how I’ve been living in this pandemic. Like it was a weekend. It’s stretching out.

I’m doing these same things again and again, and I am not doing them well. It’s time to act like I live here.

Things have changed, while I was thinking they would revert. The world has settled into a groove when I thought we were at a traffic light.

I joined a virtual summit this week about how to communicate virtually. How’s that for meta?

But we are all talking through cameras and laptop speakers. I think that I need to get better at it.

Last month it was enough just to turn my camera on. But almost everyone is doing that now. I will need to bring more to the party.

Bringing More

How can I bring more of myself to my online communications? How can I be there for others?

Yes, I could buy a better microphone. And better lighting. I may do that.

But one of the keynotes at the summit had another slant: bring more of my best self. Fatima Doman had a talk about using authentic strengths while communicating.

I know this technology. It’s not the lighting, it’s the love. It’s the welcome and the curiosity that makes my communications addictive.

And when I say addictive, I mean addictive for ME. Sure, I want other people to want to talk to me. But I want to have my meetings and conversations be a sincere delight.

That means I can’t phone it is. I have to bring my attention to it, and find the miracle.

There will always be a miracle. It’s my job to spend enough time and attention to find it. It might not take long.

I’m not willing to settle for short-term living. Wherever the horizon is, it is too short. I need to aim past it.

I’ve been falling short. I’m going to get up, dust myself off and try again, with my expectations set for endurance.

Some things never change. I know for sure I won’t get it right the first time. But I will keep trying.

I got to hear Toni Morrison give a lecture at the Central Library in Los Angeles. Well, I wasn’t there, but I heard the recording a few years later

At the end, in the Q&A, she said something I can’t forget. I’m paraphrasing:

‘I remember taking it all so seriously when I was young. Being so hard on myself to GET IT RIGHT. You are asking if it would be cold comfort to give in to superficiality…At my age I take whatever comfort I can get.’

Times are hard. I’m living through a collective lonely experience, when time stands still and comforts are few. I don’t mean to be a downer, but it’s getting tough.

Toni was a wise woman. Take the comfort you can.

They made another change today, because of COVID. shutting down more things that had just opened.

We used to be able to make plans, with the only factor being if I wanted to. Now, there are a lot of locked doors.

So, I’ve been indulging in escapism: romance novels. I only wish I were better at escapism. Right now, I’d love to have a consuming low-level hobby. Like video games or Sudoku.

But this is all I’ve got. I’ve always been about books and music.

It’s down to me in all these responsibilities. A whole lotta sameness all at the same time.

I thank you Toni. It was a nice to have permission to have some comfort in my escapism. I got a breather from the unrelenting duty of staying home. I can get up to not go out for another day. That’s the endurance challenge.

“We are going to walk the dog,” I said to my husband.

“Good! I’ll be able to take the sink apart and fix the drain without the dog in the way.”

I didn’t say it, but I thought it. Right now? Is this the time? It’s a holiday tomorrow. A plumbing project right before a holiday means we can’t call a plumber if it goes wrong.

We came back and it had gone wrong. I still didn’t say anything.

Oh well, we could brush our teeth in the kitchen sink. One day of a plugged-up sink, alright. We’ll get through the 4^th of July and call for help on Saturday.

This is pandemic marriage. Let go of the things you CAN let go of. We’re all stuck in this together.

My holiday morning started nice and cozy, me and the cat, then my daughter and dog all joining in lazy activities.

But Chris woke with a mission. He would keep working on that sink. And that faraway look in his eye made me nervous.

This time I said something: “I don’t’ think this is a good idea. Is this how you want this holiday to go? It could go very wrong and you’re going to be frustrated no matter what.”

I said it.

But he had a mission.

Great. My holiday down the drain, because the drain wasn’t working.

Situation: Huge plug of my hair down the drain, and he had tried to snake it, but it went past the trap and deeper than he could reach.

We’d tried using our decrepit plunger in the sink, but it was good and stuck

Action plan: but Liquid plumber from the hardware store and a funnel to pour it in past the trap.

At least he took the daughter to the store and let me and the cat to pursue laziness.

Result: liquid plumber was added, and that didn’t clear things. But some time passed and

EUREKA!

He had bought a new plunger and that plunger in the sink was the key. Six Dollar plunger for the win!

This plunger had an adapter to work on smaller drains.

Neither of us were aware that plunger technology had made this significant advance. We know a lot, but that one had complete escaped us. For six bucks, this was a no special fancy thing.

I was braced for an expensive and time-wasting hassle. But the solution was waiting right there.

I know very little about plumbing. I do know a lot about remote collaboration and communication.

I knew, when this stay-at-home thing started, that it was waiting for everyone. It wasn’t painless, but it was there.

I’m proud of us for not blowing up and sticking to the point, getting work done. Things are working out.

Good for me for not losing my cool at my husband either. With a little patience and persistence, things got unstuck.

A colleague recommended the book Extreme Ownership: How US Navy Seal Lead and Win by Willink and Babin. These veterans fought together, came home and started an executive consulting company. Then they wrote this book. The book reads more like a war movie than a business book. That’s probably what made it go so fun.

It starts off with a war story describing a nightmare scenario. So many things going wrong, his men dying and Willink has to give a report to the higherups. How could he isolate key misstep from all the chaos?

This is the linchpin:

He was the one in charge, and he hadn’t caught the problems as they happened. It was his fault.

I am not a veteran. I have not been in the military. But there are times when I have told my team “We are playing with live ammo.” It’s a figure of speech.

The authors use live ammo. And live ammo is used against them.

That clarifies things: every choice has a consequence. SOMEONE has to make a decision and keep things moving. That someone on a project is me: The Project Manager.

I’ve heard it said before, ‘The Project manager is the one who is ultimately responsible for the entire project.’ Me and my peers would hear that and roll our eyes to one another. If we are the ones ultimately responsible, why do we have so little influence on the work we are given?

Okay, I’ll play. Let me take the two toughest jobs of the last few years and re-examine them with this standard.

Project A was a job handed to me by the BEST office in the company. I had only been with this firm a few months and they told me this one was going to be a great experience for me. I’d see how it was supposed to be done. I also had a highly experienced local crew.

The first week was ok. Then customer came on hot, with requirements not identified in the contract.

Things degenerated into daily meetings between the customer and top brass from both offices.

It seemed that the other office missed a ton of stuff. The installers used their experience to find ways to get overtime instead of head off issues, and I was scrambling for ways to make it end.

THESE WERE OUTSIDE MY CONTROL.

But what if re-examined the project with Extreme Ownership?

I realized that I had let myself trust these other people, the designer and the installers. They presented themselves as the experts. I had not asked enough questions. If these guys were as hotshot as they claimed to be, it would not have been hard for them to review it with me.

If I gone over the design with them in greater detail, I likely would have caught the oversights sooner. We could have adjusted the plans. I didn’t follow my usual policy of asking ALL the questions beforehand regardless of how stupid I sounded.

I trusted when I had no proof. The rest of the project pushed me closer and closer to failure.

No wonder the customer didn’t trust me. I hadn’t trusted myself.

Project B was far more complicated. No one told me they had it figured out, but they did tell me that it had to be perfect. Night work, high ticket customer. Four rooms to be de-installed/installed every night and handed over in working condition to the customer to use when they arrived next morning.

FOR SIX WEEKS

Highest level of scrutiny in the company. All on no sleep. I planned this one out, and I was in on every moment of the project. We had three meetings a day. A crew meeting to kick off the work, a check-in at the end of every shift at 3 in the morning and a meeting at 9 AM with the customer to review status and punch list items.

This one had been designed better, but the customer was even more tightly wound.

I had grabbed onto it with both hands and all my toes. I EXTREMELY Owned this one.

Me and the lead tech are blood brothers now.

When I look clearly at what I did and didn’t do, without casting blame, I have a much better sense of closure. I know what should be done differently.

I’m a convert. Total ownership is the way to manage projects. Yes, there are things out of my control. But everything is under my influence. It helps to ask enough questions to identify those out-of-control-items. I can use the knowledge to mitigate risks.

There really is no downside to Extreme Ownership. Things would go better if everyone acted that way, but I’m the only one I can control.