watch?v=amsqeYOk--w). Mischel then did follow up studies to see if those children who could resist eating the marshmallow immediately would translate that willpower into more success in life than those who couldn't.

(True confession: Had I been in that study, I would have eaten that marshmallow within seconds of the adult leaving the room. I would have jammed it into my mouth without a second thought.)

Those who were children in the early 1960's are now, of course, adults charged with the responsibility of running businesses and the country. And judging by the fix this country is in, I'm not the only one who struggles with not eating the marshmallow immediately. We seem to be a society struggling with delayed gratification. Pay now for a reward later? Uh uh. We don't really like to do that. And marshmallow eater that I am, I totally sympathize.

But I think we have to get over it. Including me... After all, we're not five-year olds being asked to hold off on a treat. We're adults responsible for our society, including the health, safety, education, and welfare of our fellow citizens. We must pay now to get services later. It's the way it works. And that means - yes, the dreaded "T" word: taxes.

Speaking of... do you remember when California had a tax surplus some years back and there was a big ruckus about whether or not the state should return it. The checks would amount to something under $100 per household. I remember one particularly emotional letter to the Los Angeles Times in which the writer commented that while that money might not mean much to some people, it would pay for a nice dinner out for her and her husband. Eat the marshmallow now. Don't wait until later.

I hate paying taxes. And I pay a ton of them. But I support tax increases that protect my health and welfare. Like education. And health care. And the fire department. And the police. And the park system. We need to stop kidding ourselves that there is all this waste in the system that, if eliminated, would pay for everything. That's magical thinking, and it does not work. So could we, the voting population, and our politicians please put the rhetoric, emotion and slogans away so we can actually get something done? I want reformed health care. Because I don't want to catch your disease. I want great education. Because I want informed, intelligent people running our companies and our country. I want firefighters to save my home. I want roads that aren't falling apart. I don't want to have to say a prayer before driving over a bridge.

We're not children anymore. Time to not eat that marshmallow and go for a longer term reward. Please?

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Sep 29 2009, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [2]

Tuesday September 22, 2009

Save Bambi!

I hate nature programs. As soon as the swelling music comes up and the camera sweeps in to capture the image of something beautiful, I’m racing for the remote control.

Call it the “Bambi Syndrome” if you like. But I know that the show will sucker me into caring about some animal, insect, flower or landscape, only to crush me later. Oh look, let’s watch the cute, fluffy, baby polar bears learn to swim with Mommy. Oh look, let’s watch the cute, fluffy, baby polar bear get eaten by the big, mean predator. Now let’s watch Mommy Bear try to rescue her cub and get killed in the process. Oh man, is there an orphanage for motherless polar bear cubs?

OK, I can actually deal with those programs reasonably well. That’s the food chain and just how it works. But I was reminded of what I really hate by my sweet husband this morning over coffee. “Hey, Terry. Did you know that grizzly bears in Yellowstone are dying off due to global warming? Turns out the nuts they like to eat can’t germinate in the heat,” Scott told me casually as he leafed through the Los Angeles Times.

No, I didn’t know that. And I didn’t want to know that. It just makes me feel badly without being able to do anything about it. Yes, I know that grizzly bears, polar bears, reindeer, and hundreds of others species are pretty much doomed. Even the bees are threatened (although remarkably enough, cockroaches, silverfish and the ants who take positive glee in swarming in my house seem to be well set to flourish on our hot planet). I don’t want to talk about it.

Which is a shame, because I know from quick peeks at the television that nature shows feature spectacular photography. But can’t the shows just have a warning – kind of like a spoiler alert – that goes on the air right before the big bummer message is delivered? Something like this would really help: “Be warned. The cuddly animals to which you have, with our help, assigned all kinds of anthropomorphic attributes, are doomed due to mankind’s idiocy and selfishness. We’re about to detail that, so now might be a good time to go make yourself a sandwich and stop watching this program.” We more sensitive types would be spared the doom and gloom, and I could stop imagining the director saying, “That’s a wrap” just as the cameraman accidentally squishes the last female of the species.

Well, fine. It’s just a thought….

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Sep 22 2009, 10:43:25 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]

Sunday September 13, 2009

Picasso Was No Pretender

I have this dream which is not, I've been told, all that unique. I'm at home, and I go through a door to discover an entirely new wing that I forgot about. As I explore the new space, I'm stunned at how fabulous it is, and can't understand how I could have let this slip. Stairways lead to new wings; doors open up to spacious bedrooms with sitting rooms; a wonderful kitchen unfolds before me.

I'm always a little bummed to wake up and find that it was just a dream.

On Friday this past week, I returned to New York's Museum of Modern Art. Every floor we went to held new treasures. Every passageway led to something amazing. Look! Another incredible Picasso! Over there! Klimt! Holy smokes, look at all the Jackson Pollacks! Special this week - Monet's Water Lilies! Treasure after treasure after treasure...

I was struck by the nature of creativity and transformation - how a single artist, such as Pablo Picasso, can break through everything he was taught to leap to breathtaking innovation. And then he does it again and again. Even as an old man, Picasso didn't repeat himself. Rather, he set the bar; then others followed, interpreting the world through their own eyes but perhaps colored by what Picasso saw.

I remember as a child thinking that anyone could do what Picasso did - big deal! Just forget all the rules and throw a bunch of color and shapes onto a canvas. Wiser now, I know that Picasso was, in fact, a classically trained artist, and his craftsmanship was impeccable. He could paint gorgeous representational canvasses, and he used his knowledge to springboard on to new directions. Which is why his more abstract works are so striking and speak to the heart as well as the mind. Nothing random here - thoughts, emotions, visuals, skill combined to create something extraordinary...

Know the basics. No, really know the basics. Be free enough and confident enough to break the rules and be willing to fail, be laughed at, be misunderstood. Go back and try again.

I wish MOMA was in my backyard so when I forgot these lessons, I could take a quick walk through the walls of one of the best museums on earth. Meanwhile, I'll have to settle for my memories.

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Sep 13 2009, 09:08:16 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]

Monday August 31, 2009

When the News Fails Us

For the past week, I’ve been in Northern Minnesota in a fairly remote wilderness area, staying with friends in their summer cabin. My mobile didn’t work, and I couldn’t get email to save my life. But I could get to Facebook. And thanks to that, we were able to take decisive steps during the wildfires that threatened our La Cañada home.

The first hint that something was amiss came on Wednesday, when I saw an update from one of my more casual Facebook friends commenting on smoky conditions. I instantly tensed up – when your house is 100 yards from the National Forest, fire is a constant concern.

I started to surf for news, but found pitifully little. Apparently the 2,000 homes under wildfire assault in a northern suburb of Los Angeles wasn’t of sufficient interest for newspapers to cover. If only Lindsey Lohan lived in my neighborhood…

I can’t begin to describe how frustrating it was to search for updated information. There simply was very, very little. Oh sure, today the story has finally become a priority for our pathetic downsized newspapers – the fire has killed two firefighters, destroyed 18 structures and swept over 42,000 acres, with no control in sight. But last week, when our home was in a mandatory evacuation area? Ha – good luck getting an update.

One hundred yards from our house (photo courtesy of Washington Post)

Thank goodness for social media. I starting messaging other folks in my Facebook network, and quickly learned what was happening. From there, I was able to connect with our friends and the house sitter who evacuated the pets and a few valuables from the house. With our fur family safe, I was able to take a more detached view of the situation.

Look, no one wants to lose their house. And I was kicking myself for not having a few other items taken out when I had the opportunity. But given that I was almost 2,000 miles away, I was just so grateful not to have to worry about the Boo and the cats that the rest seemed inconsequential.

Up until our return last night, we monitored what was going on, largely via Facebook. The online news continued to be of limited help, but we could count on our local friends and bloggers to keep us in the know via updates. And as the fire spread, impacting more of our friends, we not only know what is going on but we could offer our support and prayers to them, as they did for us.

The mainstream media failed us. But we found Facebook to be an e-community that is truly a neighborhood, offering information, support and friendship.

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Aug 31 2009, 07:49:48 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]

Monday August 17, 2009

Everything Old is New Again

Remember finger-painting? The glory of using your hands and that wet, gooey paint to smudge all over a piece of paper. The streaks of bright blue paint on your cheek you’d bring home from school. The way the soap turned orange when the paint under your nails came out as you washed up.

I can still remember how the wet paint smelled. And how at the end of kindergarten I’d be pretty well covered in paint and glue and little pieces of construction paper stuck to my shoes.

Then I learned to draw. And I learned about composition, and the color wheel. I was taught how to use perspective to bring depth to my work, and how to use shadows to create a lifelike feeling. I was pretty good at some point in my life. But as time went on, I drifted away from drawing and painting. The price I paid was a big decline in my eye to canvas translation. I couldn’t capture images as well as I used to, and so the joy of painting disappeared for me.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve tried very hard to break out of my compulsive need to draw accurately. I wanted to see what I could do just with colors and design. Alas, old habits die hard. I’d get frustrated and I let the perfect become the enemy of the good.

Until last Friday, when my old friend and colleague Gay Groomes invited me to her foothill home to try monoprinting. Monoprinting, which I knew nothing about, consists of inking or painting a panel of glass, and then running the plate, covered by paper, through a hand-cranked press. The color transfers to the paper, but the pressure of the press and the different consistencies mean that your images don’t show up exactly as you intended. Then you can take the glass plate and add color, textures, shapes, and rerun the print through the press again. Sometimes the results are wonderful. Often the results are just plain dreadful.

But to me it was freeing. It released me from my obsession with perfection and brought back the playfulness that I’ve missed so much.

In three hours I completed three plates and left one with more work to do. My first effort was surprisingly good – until I ran the print through the press once more to add to the print, and ended up destroying it. My second effort was hilarious. It looked like part of a tie-dye t-shirt. (I must have been channeling Woodstock!)

I felt a little better about the next print and really had fun with the last:

While these efforts are amateurish and nothing I'm particularly proud of, I can feel good about how much I learned – that staying in the same environment means creating the same results. That is, by giving myself a sketch pad, a set of oils and a canvas I was making it too easy to stay in my comfort zone and too hard to try something very, very different. By throwing myself into a completely new experience, I discovered new ways to create, freed myself from perfection, and had a wonderful time.

And of course, I got to go home with streaks of blue paint on my cheek and orange paint under my nails. Glory be!

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Aug 17 2009, 09:02:55 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]

Monday August 10, 2009

A Golden Week

We’ve been up at our cabin the past week, with a couple more days of laziness to go. Our little place was pretty packed with people and dogs – nine humans and three large dogs, plus our neighbor’s golden who didn’t want to be left out of the fun. The weather overall was glorious, so most of us were outside all day and all evening. (You can click on these to make them bigger.)

Life at the cabin involves a lot of food and wine, junk food and Flathead cherries. Waterskiing, boating, canoeing, swimming, reading, and throwing the ball (endlessly) for the dogs fill the days. Bonfires, wine and long conversation fill the nights. It was a week for family. It was wonderful just to be with our son, Andrew. Although we do a reasonable job of staying in touch via phone and Facebook, nothing beats time together. Marked by the required silly photo:

We also had the opportunity to meet Andrew’s boyfriend, Charlie, and get to know him a bit.

My sister, brother-in-law, nephew and niece were part of our gathering. Amy brought her fiancé, Christie, along, giving us all a chance to get to know the lovely woman who will soon be joining our family officially. Amy and Christie brought their golden, Bowser, and their golden doodle, Sake, both of whom were obsessed with jumping in the lake to chase balls.

And as expected, the dogs located a fragrant dead fish and had a good roll in it. And then were very sad when we humans let out a huge, “Ehhhh!” and they found themselves getting scrubbed down with vinegar and peroxide. But they recovered well enough to be bribed with turkey and have their picture taken at Camp McKenzie:

But of course the Boo ruled the camp:

Returning to reality will be tough! Especially for those dogs, who got very used to total freedom, romping in the wild and rolling in the fish!

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Aug 10 2009, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]

Monday July 27, 2009

Yo no hablo espanol good

“The blue bowl broke.”

I still remember how irritated I was when I came home from work and found my housekeeper’s note next to the remaining shards of my favorite casserole. “Who are you kidding,” I muttered to myself, tossing bits and pieces of blue ceramic into the trash. “Yeah, the blue bowl broke. All by itself. It must have grown little legs and in a suicidal moment, thrown itself off the counter.”

I was still ranting and raving (these were in my pre-Paxil, unmedicated days) when Scott got home. “What's wrong with you? Why are you making such a big deal out of a $40 piece of cookware, “ he asked me. A good question, I had to admit. And when I got down to it, my temper tantrum really had little to do with the dish (although in my own defense I must point out that it was the casserole I bought to replaced its deceased twin which met a similar fate a few months ago). In the end, it wasn’t the dish - it was the note. The note in which, as I saw it, our housekeeper took no responsibility for the act. “The blue bowl broke.”

Scott proved once again that he is both wiser and more compassionate than I. He reminded me that our housekeeper was from El Salvador, and her note was not avoiding responsibility – it was simply a translation from the Spanish way of explaining what happened. In this case, it was the bowl that broke, not her.

Oh fine. That’s what speaking another language will do for you, I grumbled to myself. Prove me wrong in both English and Spanish…

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, when Scott saved an article for me out of Scientific American about language. He gleefully pointed out that the article used an almost identical example to illustrate how grammar and culture shape communication.

This confirms for me that people who speak more than one language have a real advantage in life – not just in getting around the globe but in thinking through problems and understanding others’ perspectives. Carolyn and Juan Carlos are raising Lucas to be bilingual, that lucky baby. JC speaks only Spanish to him, and Carolyn speaks only English to him. That way the baby will learn to speak with correct accents in both languages. (Although heaven knows how growing up in England will play all this – Spanish with a British accent? Brilliant!)

Words are the heart of how we relate to each other, and I’m quite grateful that I’ll be able to communicate with my grandson in English (American with a slight Midwest twang). Because heaven knows I’ve already insulted enough people with my poor Spanish.

So in a rather clumsy segue weakly linked with words and their reflection on the communicator and audience, I'm doing some name changes. Because words, rather than my company, are what I’m identifying with these days, I’ve changed my twitter name from tmacatsun to tmacwords. And I’m going to be moving to a new blog on Wordpress called tmacwords. Stay tuned for the URL once I get it up and going (and a thank you to all of you bloggers who have been offering advice on how to transfer our blogs from Sun to a new site).

Until then, continue to tune in here for McKenzie adventures, warped insights and editorial comments. But no Spanish. If we're both lucky.

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 27 2009, 11:41:34 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [4]

Monday July 20, 2009

Terry Through the Looking Glass

I lived a dual life the past two weeks. Part-time Sun employee, as I have been since February 1, and part-time communication consultant.

I feel so darned good about it, because I actually did something instead of just talked about it. And I feel as though I’m breaking out of the uncertainty that acquisitions bring to the life of the soon-to-be-acquired and took back control of my life. For someone blessed (or cursed, depending on your perspective) with the eye of the tiger and a strong streak of determination, this first step from what was to what will be felt like coming home to a very good place.

Which is why I posted this photograph on my profile picture in Facebook:

This rather lovely sculpture can be found right outside the grounds of Guildford Castle in Surrey. Lewis Carroll spent many years in Guildford, and local folklore has him writing Alice Through the Looking Glass while in residence at the house that stands behind the sculpture garden.

This sculpture captures where many of us are today, I think. Part of us in one world, part of us in the next, frozen at a moment in time. Not knowing if we’ll have a job with the new administration, or if we’d want one.

In retrospect, my going part-time last winter, with the agreement that I could pursue other consulting jobs during my non-Sun time, was such a blessing. It gave me time to spend with my daughter and new grandson. It gave me time to spend with my Mom, who is not doing so well. It gave me time to campaign for gay marriage and help support my son. And it gave me time to think about what I want do next in life.

In the past two years, I’ve turned down four jobs at four different companies. The jobs were amazing, the companies top notch, and each time I thought that this was it, this was the magic position for me. And each time, I got cold feet. Now a brighter person might have figured out by offer #2 that there was just something unappealing about devoting her life to another company full-time. But I was a little slow on the uptake. But with almost six months of relief from constant stress and long work schedules, I was able to get some clarity around what I do want. And it is not taking another corporate job.

I was in love with the old Sun. This company was the only place I wanted to work. My work was appreciated, I was valued, my team was fabulous, my boss was fun, and the challenges were varied and exciting (if sometimes a little overwhelming). I believed in our company passionately, and felt as though I was part of something important. I had the opportunity to work closely with our co-founder, Scott McNealy. It was a dream gig.

I don’t believe I will find all those pieces again in one place. And I don’t think I want to try. So I’m going back to my roots – consulting. I hope I can keep my current job with Sun, and I would find it fascinating if Oracle would take me on the same terms. But if not? Well, I’m ready to step all the way through that looking glass and explore the world on the other side.

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 20 2009, 02:32:14 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]

Wednesday July 15, 2009

10,000 Hours

According to Malcolm Gladwell in his recent book, Outlier, 10,000 hours of practice is what it takes to become really good at something. Or at least to be considered experienced.

Hmmm. Persistence, it seems, pays. So as I sat aboard a long Air Canada flight this week, I was inspired to put together my own list of things that I quit before reaching the state of experienced expertise.

Waterskiing. As a young woman, I tried doing this sport a lot. I was dragged through the water in Sarasota, Florida, drinking more salt water than I really wanted. I was dragged through the water at Georgetown Lake in Montana, freezing my butt off. I was dragged through the water at Flathead Lake in Montana, embarrassing myself in front of my more athletic in-laws. One day I had a revelation: I don’t have to do this. No one was holding a gun to my head. (Unless you count hours of harassment by my spouse’s family.) Nope, didn’t get in my 10,000 hours there. On the other hand, I stopped drinking gallons of unfiltered lake water, likely avoiding a parasite infestation. Perhaps.

Skiing. Is there a pattern here? Something to do with strapping long boards onto your feet? I think snow skiing is even scarier than waterskiing because I find water friendly (I’m a good swimmer) but consider ice-covered steep mountain slopes terrifying. However, as a new bride married to a Montana boy, I was a good sport and tried ever so hard to learn to how to slalom down those hills. A couple of problems. First, the ski lift. While I was pretty good at the rope tow (hey, my cat would be good at the rope tow – no talent or practice required there – just stick your claws in and hang on), the lifts always struck fear in my heart. Yes, I could get on. No, I didn’t fall off. But exiting? Do you know you’re supposed to jump gracefully from the ski lift at the top of the mountain and ski without poles to the landing area? Are you joking?? I fell more often than not. But I was still game until the day I was heading downhill and found myself going too fast and unable to stop. I crashed into a group of hapless skiers at the bottom of the hill. No one was injured. And it being Montana rather than California, no one sued me. But I was done. I might have gotten 100 hours of skiing in but I couldn’t risk anyone else’s life by going for my 10,000.

PTA parent. Before I made the wise decision to go back to work and practice my wit with those better equipped at handling my biting edge, I spent a number of years as a stay-at-home mom (something my children have NO memory of. Not that I’m bitter). I tried so hard to fit in with the other moms. I went to PTA (Parent Teacher Association) meetings like a good parent. I tried to be attentive. I volunteered. I donated time and money. But I found so many parents ridiculously over-focused on whether or not their little first grade genius (90 percent of parents believe their child is above average) would get into Harvard or Stanford that I just couldn’t take it. The turning point for me was when our district was opening up a new elementary school that our kids were slated to attend, and one mother hysterically proclaimed that she heard ALL the good books were staying in the original elementary school’s library and we would get NOTHING. An extremely sarcastic (I know, there’s a shocker) response almost escaped my lips. In a rare moment of self-control, I managed to keep my trap shut but I was so outta there. Another place where I wouldn’t make 10,000 hours. Or even close.

On the other hand, I realized, busily typing in a cramped economy seat, I have spent well over 10,000 hours flying for business. And I want to say that I am extremely good at this. I don’t freak out in turbulence – rather, it rocks me to sleep. I get along with even the surliest flight crews. I check my seat assignment in advance to make sure I won’t be stuck next to the bathroom (that is living hell to me on a long flight). I get to the airport early enough so I don’t generally miss flights. And I bring my own food so I don’t have to worry or care about what yellow or brown meal the airline will be providing me (at $6 meal). I try really hard not to be a diva and to be keep my sense of humor (I don't always succeed but I keep working on it - may need another 10,000 hours to achieve perfection here). Overall, experience really does count in helping me get through airports and flights without meltdowns, temper tantrums and blood-pressure busting stress. Persistence. Perhaps it's time to take up skiing again. Or maybe we should just leave well enough alone...

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 15 2009, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]

Thursday July 09, 2009

Michael and Me

As I was out walking the Boo this morning, I had the video reel of Michael Jackson’s last dress rehearsal playing over and over in my head. Which was really irritating because the first time I saw it, I knew I’d be very tired of it before long.

Now before you jump all over me telling me what a genius MJ was and what a loss to the world he is, let me hastily admit that I was a huge fan during the 80’s. I owned and played his music on occasion for years.

Do I believe he was disturbed, troubled and had engaged in highly questionable behavior? Yes, I do. I think that truth was carved on his face and in his public persona over the past ten years. None of which takes away from what was, and all of which contributes to the tragedy of what could have been.

So getting back to the video. Once I got over being annoyed that it was still playing in my head, I stepped back and realized that I was “watching” a 50 year-old fragile has-been reinventing himself. And that reinvention required physical strength, creativity and a large dose of courage. He wasn’t taking the easier route of his pop star brethren by doing a greatest hits of the 80s tour – which would have easily sold out. He was trying out new material, new staging, new ideas.

And for that I have to give him his due. Because reinvention is hard, especially as you get older. And harder when you’ve been on the wrong side of press clippings for years. And perhaps hardest of all when you have very high standards for your professional performance.

This struck home with me because I spent two days this week doing some pro bono communication consulting and group facilitation work for a friend – and it was hard! Fun, wonderful, energizing and exciting. But hard, hard work. And with a lot lying in the balance as I likely will be phased out of Sun completely and dropped into my next life.

As I’m not (or at least hope I’m not!) disturbed, troubled and engaged in questionable behavior, and I’m just little old me, not anyone famous, reinvention isn’t quite as a visible a task for me as for a Michael Jackson. But kid yourself not – reshaping your life is risky and hard work.

Let the joy be in the journey.

Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 09 2009, 02:45:10 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]

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