Tag: blog

When Will It Be Enough?

When I closed my computer yesterday, in preparation to spend the evening with my wife, I had fully intended to write a post today about the onset of Fall in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona. I would tell you about a day I hold sacred; The first day of the season when the high temperatures do not go higher than 80 degrees. I would talk about how I eagerly restocked my bird feeders, happily watered my orange tree, and actually sat outside in the afternoon for more than five minutes. All without a drop of sweat beading on my brow. I would tell you about how I watched the woodpeckers methodically taking peanuts from the feeder, then flying off to various palm trees in my yard and elsewhere in the neighborhood, to store their newfound abundance for a later day. That’s what I intended to write today.

That intention vanished as soon as news of the latest American mass shooting, this time in the small city of Lewiston, Maine. My heart sank. It always does. I am an unwavering optimist. I believe there are no problems that collectively, as human beings, we cannot solve. I know we can do it. All you have to do is take a look at countries in Europe. Though the optimism is still there, I continue to be disheartened at America’s inability, or unwillingness, to even try to address this carnage. I woke up this morning asking myself, “When will it be enough?” When will Americans admit that doing nothing isn’t working? If 1st graders in Newton, Connecticut didn’t do it, maybe it was more elementary school children in Uvalde, Texas? No, that did nothing. So, what will it take? When will it be enough for you?

When will it be enough for you? When will you, as an individual, determine that what we are doing in this country concerning gun violence and mass shootings is not working. Because right now, we’re doing nothing. There are individuals who recognize the patterns and are aware enough to know that this isn’t a problem the rest of the world has to worry about. They use their voice. They show up for elections. They know Sandy Hook was an abomination, leaving a permanent scar on the fabric of our society. When will you join them? When will you be courageous enough to say publicly that we need solutions? When will you use your power to say, “Enough, already!”

Some of you, once you figured out the subject of this post, immediately dismissed these words. That doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bother me because I know that if we continue to do nothing, what happened in Lewiston, ME will continue to happen. It will happen in big cities. It will happen again in small towns, like Lewiston. It will continue to happen until enough of us decide that inaction is not acceptable. It doesn’t matter if it’s hard. It doesn’t matter if there isn’t a perfect solution. There are options out there if we are humble enough to acknowledge they exist.

So, I ask again. When will it be enough for you?

Warm Smell of Colitas – 1973 to 1985

I am almost 13 years younger than my next oldest sibling. This soon will become relevant. My parents’ musical interests were solidly in the country category. Actually, in retrospect, I’m not really sure what my Mom’s musical tastes were, beyond those of my Dad. The vinyl in our home was curated by my Dad. The smell of a vinyl record still evokes nostalgic feelings of warmth, tying back to my earliest memories of my Dad’s record collection. He had an affinity for bluegrass, but the artists that stood out to me were the deceased artists. He loved artists like Jim Reeves and Patsy Cline, both of whom died young in plane crashes. Throw in some George Jones, Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn, and you get the general idea of his musical tastes.

Hey, you don’t know me, but you don’t like me.

This, of course, meant that any contemporary music I listened to around my parents was created/performed by country artists of that time frame. I was born in 1973, so my earliest memories of contemporary music were artists like Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, and Merle Haggard. I list these artists because I truly enjoyed the music. My country roots definitely fall into the rebellious, anti-establishment country of the day, with the Outlaw music of Cash, Jennings, and Nelson, along with the Bakersfield sound of Haggard and Buck Owens. The sounds were gritty, with the clang of a Fender Telecaster rattling behind some iconic songwriters and vocalists. Put Willie and Waylon together, and some true magic happened.

That was my dad’s contribution. During the early years of my childhood, there was one other person who influenced the music I would listen to and love to this day: my older brother. As mentioned, he is almost 13 years older than I am. He was my only sibling still at home during the first seven years of my life. He was also the one who would be left with the responsibility of babysitting his younger brother when our parents were otherwise engaged. He, too, loves music. Let’s just say that he didn’t listen to George Jones or Loretta Lynn very often. It was the mid-70s, and he was fighting his own rebellion against the world. As I remember it, as soon as the two of us were alone, the television went off and the stereo was turned on. I still smell the rich vinyl today as I write this. That, and well…a more pungent aroma.

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.

With my brother came the powerful guitars and vocals of Boston. To this day, I cannot hear “More Than a Feeling” without the hair standing up on the back of my neck. There was the prog rock sounds of Kansas and the operatic offerings of Queen. I was banging my head to “Bohemian Rhapsody” long before Wayne and Garth introduced it to the majority of my generation, as young adults in the early ’90s. However, none of those artists compared to the band that I would associate most with my childhood, the Eagles. There was one album that my brother would put on that would leave me riveted. Hearing the raspy voice of Don Henley sing about the warm smell of “colitas,” rising up through the air in “Hotel California” left me mesmerized. To this day, it’s one of the strongest connections I have with my brother.

The Eagles would follow me into my adult life. I would become intimately familiar with their entire catalog of work. As a young adult, I would disengage from contemporary music, which we’ll explore later. The Eagles however, came along with me. Their songs were the first I learned to play on guitar. I knew of no other band that could harmonize quite like they could. The songwriting was complex and a tiny bit cerebral. Later in life I realized that the dynamic songwriting relationship between Don Henley (introspective and cerebral) and Glenn Frey (energetic and in your face) was the source of much of that complexity. It was the source of their magic. To me, they are in the same company as McCartney/Lennon and Simon/Garfunkel. As we travel along, it would become apparent to me that I gravitated towards bands and songwriting collaborators. The group dynamic has created the most magical music for me.

After my brother moved out of our home, I often had to find ways to enjoy what would be on the car radio when my parents were driving or whatever artist would be appearing weekly on Hee Haw. Country artists like Kenny Rogers and Alabama were staples during the early 80s. At some point during this timeframe, I got my first cassette player. Being incredibly in touch with what 7-year-old boys would enjoy for music, my parents bought me my first cassette tapes. We’ll not spend too much time on this segment as those cassette tapes were a collection of television theme songs, and a light-hearted collection of 60s & 70s country/pop songs. Still, I would spend hours listening to the theme song from M.A.S.H. and Jeannie C. Riley’s 1968 chartbuster, “Harper Valley P.T.A.” I was 7, what did I know?

Fortunately for me, and those of you that are following along, my musical interests would broaden greatly. Next up, we’ll look how the mid 80s through early 90s treated me. These would be my most formidable years, from age 11, into my early 20s. This period would include the first music which was primarily curated by me. Today, it’s still an era that I find myself visiting from time to time, though I view it through a much different lens today.

Up next: Nothin’ But a Good Time

Essential Reading – Walden, or, Life in the Woods

Welcome to the first installment of the Essential Reading series, books I would recommend every man read. When trying to determine where to start, I asked myself if there was one book, above all others, which had the most significant impact on me. That is where I would start. That question, brought me to Walden, or, Life in the Woods by Henry David Thoreau. Allow me to explain.

There are several themes of Thoreau’s work that speak to me. It is, at its essence, a story of one man and his two year long experiment in self reliance, living in what could generously be called a cabin on Walden Pond, near Concord, MA. Let’s set aside the fact that Concord, MA is where I would want to live if I could afford to (and convince my spouse to do so as well). It is home to the American Transcendentalist movement of the 19th century. Emerson, Hawthorn, Alcott and Thoreau all called Concord home. What a rich literary history. I digress.

I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. – Henry David Thoreau, Walden, or, Life in the Woods

One central theme that still resonates in today’s world, for me at least, relates to simplifying what is important to a man. While completely shunning capitalism and technology for 24 months may seem unrealistic in 2021, there are important lessons we can take away from Thoreau’s reflections on his time spent at Walden. Important questions are left with the reader. Are the material gains we toil for worth it in the long run? Do the “things” we acquire justify the burden a man places on himself to obtain such treasure? We are forced to question what wealth really means.

Of course Walden is also a reflection on man’s relationship with nature. As if I couldn’t find more connections with Thoreau’s writing. It seems impossible to read the book without developing an impressive understanding of how important his connection with the land is. His ability to highlight the beauty in the smaller and better things, assists the reader in helping to answer these important questions. What is beautiful? What is wealth? What is success?

The reader, of course, must answer these queries for himself. One mark of a really great piece of writing is that it requires the reader to ask critical questions, even if they do not realize that’s the intended purpose. By this standard, Walden stands out amongst some of the very best works of literature we have available to us.

Have you read Walden? Have you asked yourself any of the questions? If you have, what have you come away with?

Essential Reading – An Introduction

Today, I’m speaking to the men out there. I’m assuming that since you’re reading this, you have some interest in the whole concept of what it means to be a Curated Man. We are simply products of our experiences. When we talk about becoming the men we wish to be, the careful selection of those experiences plays a pivotal roll. Of course, I’m talking about the experiences we choose, not the ones which are thrust upon us.

I hope that other men have a desire to develop into well balanced people. While we all develop and bloom into our own special versions of human beings, a solid foundation is necessary for any of those versions to thrive. While building that foundation can be complex, I have found it important to compartmentalize the approach, to the extent to which it can be accomplished. Let’s call them pillars of the foundation.

Now that we’ve introduced the concept of the pillars, let’s begin our journey of exploring one of them. Reading. I mean, you’re doing it right now. The written word is responsible for the advanced species of animal that humans have become. And while reading has certainly been crowded out of the options available to us to fill the minutes of our day, the importance of doing so has not diminished.

Gentlemen, I’m not going to offer that you have to become book worms. I’m also not suggesting that reading alone can turn you into a well rounded human being. None the less, reading is important. Reading the right things of course is equally important. This brings me to the reason for this specific blog post. Curating the things we read.

Ultimately, choosing the right reading materials will be an intimately personal decision for any man to make. A lot of those decisions will be driven by what interests the individual and their current circumstances. Still, sometimes a road map is extremely helpful when you’re beginning a new journey.

So, I’ll be starting a new ongoing series called Essential Reading. I will be offering some recommendations on some places to start. Many of the books are ones that occupy permanent spots on my own bookshelves. All have made a mark on the man that I have become. Many will sound like obvious selections. Some may seem a little more non-traditional when we talk about curating the men we want to be. All will come with an explanation as to why they were important to me, hopefully providing value to you.

What are some of the most influential books you have enjoyed? I want to hear from you!

Today, It’s Easier

Today, it became just a bit easier to be a father. It’s easier to teach my daughter, with a straight face, that character matters. Truth matters. It’s easier to demonstrate to her that sometimes how we do things is just as important, if not more so, than what we do. Character matters. Truth matters.

It’s easier to show her that we can still be hopeful about the future of our country. It’s easier to show her that her own potential is limitless. It’s easier to show her that the arc of the moral universe continuously bends towards justice. It’s easier to see that our ultimate success is interwoven with the need for interdependency. She can see that we can never just do things , “our way.” There is the together way, or there is no good way. Allies are important. It’s easier to see that good is absolute, and that loving each other is a necessary element in our shared success. Empathy wins.

Being a father is full of difficulties, but today, it became just a little bit easier.

Do As I Say?

There is an old adage: Judge a man not on his words, but rather upon what he does. Malarkey, I declare!

While it is certainly true that actions can speak louder than words, it doesn’t negate the power that the words we use have on our influence.

Instead, we should be judged upon our words and by our actions. Even more specifically, does what we say match up with what we do? That is our measure.

The Fuel of Hope

Sometimes the juices just don’t flow. I could list the numerous reasons why I haven’t written much this past year. It wouldn’t tell you anything important. The explanation can be reduced to this: I was interested in doing other things. I got out of the habit of putting words on the figurative paper and this year has not been overtly inspirational. I suppose there is only one tried and true way to cultivate inspiration for writing and that is to simply write more. The ideas and feelings will come. I’m going to try and do more of that moving forward.

It certainly has been a year we will not forget. With luck, we will one day tell our grandchildren of our tales, which will become as curious to future generations as the Spanish Flu was to ours. Life has a way of showing humans that in spite of the many amazing things we have accomplished, predicting the future remains marginally more accurate than flipping a coin. The further in time we go, the less precise we become in divining what will come next. That doesn’t mean we do not prepare for possible eventualities, for we know that sooner or later we will need a plan to meet the next challenge we face.

As we eagerly hold the door open for 2020 to show itself out, none of us can predict how we’ll evaluate 2021 next December. We can develop some pretty good ideas as to what is in store for us in the beginning of 2021. Much of the same. Though one thing history has taught us about predicting what comes next is that we will one day move past our current challenges and we will design our fortresses for the next predictably, unpredictable obstacle we must face.

So, we plan and we hope. We look for the answers and put faith in our ability to develop the next set of solutions. Perhaps it is your child that will be one of the minds that will conquer cancer. Maybe it’s my child who figures out how to convert the Sun’s energy into electricity in a manner so efficient that the world will never want for clean and renewable energy again. Maybe it’s our generation. Maybe it’s the next one. It only takes one mind to spark a revolution. It only takes one mind to develop the next life changing innovation. Our job is to keep striving to cultivate those minds and drive towards better. Hope if the fuel we need to keep pushing forward.

I hope in the next year, each of you will find that hope. In the face of whatever may come our way, I hope that you find the joy in life that will provide the fuel that the world needs. I hope you smile as much as you can and laugh as much as possible. Know that I will be working diligently to take my own advice. Happy New Year my friends.

Quail and the Brittlebush

It’s April in Arizona.  The Sonoran Desert is in full bloom, her Spring borne, verdant hue cloaking the brutal reality she holds inside.  The ginger petals of the desert globemallow invite one in with promises of an elusive respite, only to reveal its arid certainty.  The brittlebush with her bright yellow blaze deceives a seasonal observer, knowing she will disburden her vibrancy once the brutal Summer makes itself known.  The temporary explosion of verdure is undeniably elusive, yet a finer beauty is intractable to chance upon.

All around, the world proves more uncertain, each day.  In a season of beauty, rebirth and consorting, we find ourselves isolated by the cold reality of a global blight.  A species rooted in social interaction finds itself in confinement, a cruel division from an otherwise communal world.  I wonder what nature knows of our trials.  Does the wise owl notice the mighty human, the apex predator, burrowed in their stucco-covered nests, sequestered for the safety of themselves and their brethren?

Nearby in the flourishing wilds, birds once seen companionless now are seen coming and going two by two.  The curved bill thrasher, once in isolation himself, with his territorial cry of “whit-wheep”, is now heard singing his melodic warble, accompanied by his new mate.  The Towhee now forages the desert floor in advance of his new bride, clawing at the ground to expose its next morsel of nourishment, while she cautiously monitors for a signal of safety, so she can join the hunt for the next unsuspecting earthbound insect.

The quail, who roamed just weeks ago together as a covey, have now paired off, one boy and one girl.  The odd man out now aimlessly wanders the creosote lined dry wash, desperately crowing in hopes of attracting a newly single hen.  If his quest brings him in the proximity of a newly paired couple, the young lady will assertively remind him that she is indeed accounted for, while her companion confidently watches the theatrics.  

Do the quail, towhees and thrashers notice us?  More accurately, do they notice the absence of our presence?  Will they notice the absence of the man-made din once present in the Springs of bygone days?  What will they notice after another journey around the Sun?

There are so many uncertainties that lie ahead.  So many questions that are not just unanswerable about the thoughts of the desert flora and fauna, but answers that are unknown to the wisest of human beings.  What I do know is that beauty and wonder are still all around us, waiting to be observed.  In the midst of the worry, there are promises of resilience to be seen all around.  Just as there is certainty provided to us by the brittlebush and the quail, so too can we be confident that we will again gather together as friends, thriving with a renewed sense of connectedness and social responsibility. When the news around us casts its pall, look for the beauty underneath.  Look for the smaller and better things for the assurance that this too shall pass.

 

Cheese Puffs, Fire and En Vino Veritas

It’s Saturday night, the first day of February 2020.  We live in Phoenix, Arizona; smack dab in the middle of the Sonoran Desert.  While the rest of North America is shut in their homes, huddled around a fireplace and sheltering from the cold of a typical American winter, we saw a high temperature of 74 degrees Fahrenheit.  While the sun is engaged in a never-ending game of hide-and-go-seek with most of the country, she is our constant companion, bathing us in a warmth that becomes the seasonal envy of millions of people.  Torture, I know.

After the sunset this evening, which was a brilliant show of oranges, purples, and reds painted across the horizon, I suggested to my wife that we open a bottle of wine.  To this, she readily agreed.  I then made my way into the desert oasis that is our back yard, started a fire in our fire pit and sat down under the moonlight.  All of this, with the hopes that my wife would soon follow me and we would enjoy a semi-romantic suburban night as we enjoy the best of what the vine has to offer. Things didn’t transpire as I planned, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

As I endeavored into my first glass of wine, I heard my daughter come downstairs and begin a conversation with my wife.  This, in and of itself, was a scenario that has become more and more infrequent, as our daughter refuses to stop growing up and has entered her teenage years.  Straight away, it was apparent that my wife and daughter had taken advantage of some peculiar alignment of the stars.  They were laughing and conspired to spend an evening of ill-advised dinner choices and a new Netflix release.  As I sat alone with my thoughts outside, they were eating cheese puffs and giggling like they were sisters, not parent and child.

As I sat outside alone, watching the flames of my fire lapping at the mild desert night air, I realized that I was right where I needed to be, and my wife was exactly where she needed to be.  While I sat alone by the fire, I was the furthest from being lonely that I could be.  As much as I relish my opportunities to be a couple with my spouse, tonight was a night that I needed to remain on the periphery.  No dad or husband contributions were required this evening, other than recognizing the magic that was happening inside the house.  Yes, I sat alone, but every giggle and statement of nonsense inside the house filled me with a contentment that I seem to be constantly in search of.

As I finish my second glass of wine tonight, relocated from the fire to my study, I set to capture the magic of this evening in this prose.  Though the evening hasn’t taken the direction I originally had chartered, it has none the less drawn me closer to my wife.  I realize that there are times, where the best I can contribute to our family dynamic is to step back and watch the magic develop around me.  I am thankful for this night and for the desert oasis that lives inside my own home.

Great Britain, Curiosity and Eating the Bacon

Hi everyone!  I just wanted to drop a quick note to let you know that The Curated Man is going to take a brief hiatus so that I can spend a couple of weeks traversing Great Britain with my family.  I don’t plan on doing any writing while we’re gone, as my focus will be enjoying the experience with the people I love most in the world.  My next post here is slated for June 21st, with a very special message for someone.  Until then stay curious, choose love, eat the bacon (or cupcake) and let the people closest to you know how much you love them.

Rob