Monday August 10, 2009 
Monday August 10, 2009 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 “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 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 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]
Wednesday June 24, 2009 I have new mommy brain – and I’m not even the mommy, I’m the grandmother. I can’t focus, I find myself staring into space, I jump when I hear the baby make a sound. A fly buzzing across the room can occupy me for mindless minutes. In fact, finding the energy to sit down and write this post has required Herculean strength. Sleep deprivation will do that to you…
This is week three in London for me, helping Carolyn and Lucas out while Juan Carlos is in Asia on business. It’s been a wonderful time for me – and I hope for Carolyn, too, bonding over this child together.
But it does remind me that there’s a reason women go through menopause – this is work for the young, not the old. And I’ve already lost enough brain cells to martinis and age without sleep deprivation yanking away a few more.
True confessions. Compounding mommy brain is Bejeweled Blitz addiction. This is a really stupid game on Facebook that I have become obsessed with – and it’s not a pretty sight. It was bad enough when I was hooked on Scramble or Pathwords – I could at least pretend that I was sort of using my brain. But Bejeweled Blitz truly has no redeeming intellectual properties. I’m a monkey staring at the screen, desperately trying to beat my last score in the 60-second play window. NOT a good use of time. And I suspect it’s giving me carpal tunnel syndrome, to boot…. I find it utterly irresistible.
I am trying to redeem myself by reading about English history and visiting the big historic spots while I’m here – Windsor Castle (fabulous), Stonehenge ( we managed to miss the huge crowds on the day of summer solstice – thank God), Hampton Court….But even so… I don’t feel like the sharpest knife in the drawer these days, because my edge is a bit dulled.
Next week, I return at last to Los Angeles. I can’t wait to see Scott, hug the Boo, catch up with friends and colleagues and sleep in my own bed. But I have to tell you, this I’m going to miss a ton:
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jun 24 2009, 07:45:53 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]
Monday June 15, 2009 When I was in Cleveland last week, my mom gave me her gold cuff bracelet. For a bracelet that is easily 50 years old, its elegant clean lines make it as contemporary a piece as you could hope to find in the stores today. But it’s the bracelet’s lineage that makes it precious to me.
First and foremost, I watched my mom wear this bracelet as I was growing up. It’s not so fancy that it can only go to grand occasions – rather, its classic lines made it appropriate for dinner out, bridge with the girls, and our school functions. And she wore it to all of those plus more.
Second, my grandparents gave it to her as a gift when she was a young woman. My grandfather had an eye for beautiful things and I see his hand in selecting this particular piece.
Third, the bracelet is not perfect. Although my mom tried to get the bracelet repaired, there’s no hiding the tooth marks of a certain poorly behaved miniature schnauzer who shared our home for 15 years – and who had a penchant for getting in trouble. Big trouble.
Finally, my mom gave it to me because she can no longer wear it. Her illness has cost her a lot of weight, and the bracelet just hangs on her thin wrist. She passed it onto me so that I could enjoy it next.
Mother, grandparents, childhood dog – this bracelet is irreplaceable because of all the memories it contains.
My family is in a period of great transition these days. The joy of our first grandchild, the sadness of my mom’s cancer returning, and Thursday night, the passing of my husband’s mother. I’m in the UK now, and I find spending this time with my daughter and grandson to be a great comfort.
I’m more aware than ever of the importance of building memories, of making deep connections. As I rose at 5:30 this morning to pick up a restless Lucas so his mom could grab some sleep, I thought how fortunate I am to have this opportunity. Watching him kick his little legs, changing his diaper, cuddling him close to my chest and rocking him back to sleep – these are memories I’ll always have.
Before I left for London, Scott and I were enjoying our Sunday afternoon ritual of doing the crossword puzzle in the hot tub, having a glass of wine and just getting caught up with each other. I mused out loud about how painful it was for us both to be losing our mothers, and Scott quietly reminded me that this is how the circle of life works – the old pass on so that the Lucas’s have a place in this world and in our hearts.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jun 15 2009, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [2]
Monday June 08, 2009 Life moving fast enough for you these days? Enough news to keep you going? I feel as though I’ve been riding in a blender set on “puree”… I’m ecstatic! I’m deeply sad… I’m excited! I’m nervous and depressed…
Good heavens. One thing I’m not is bored.
One of the oddities of this time is the same for me as for many of my colleagues – will I be offered a job should the Oracle acquisition close as planned? As a corporate resources type, I doubt that I will be, but one never knows. So aside from doing my day job as usual (to whatever extent that is possible), how do I think about the future? And how do I plan for it?
I’m not alone.
I’ve been spending a lot of time these days reviewing resumes for friends and colleagues. I’ve also been contacting all my old headhunter buddies, seeing what’s going on out there. Been writing a ton of references on LinkedIn. Putting people in contact with each other. Practicing interviews with colleagues, playing the hiring manager. Urging colleagues to submit articles to our professional communication journals; volunteer to give speeches. Get their names out there.
One thing I’m so grateful for is that we got involved with social media over two years ago. For many folks on my former team, this will be a lifesaver when it comes to landing another job. When we got started, we knew this work was critical for Sun - and for our own careers – we just didn’t figure the self-interest piece would come into play so soon. So although my CEO and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye on communication, I give full credit and gratitude to Jonathan for his insistence that we take a leading role in social networking.
The future is here, sooner than expected. Take a deep breath and go for it full speed.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jun 08 2009, 08:50:35 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]
Thursday May 28, 2009 My mom had a good year. When she was initially diagnosed in March of 2008 with metastatic breast cancer, we wouldn’t have dared to hope for the 12 months of relative good health she enjoyed following her radiation treatment. In fact, my sister and I had gotten a bit blasé about it – yeah, yeah, yeah, mom’s doing great. How are the kids?
So it was a shock to get the call on Thursday – her cancer is back, and with a vengeance, it appears. Her lymph nodes are now invaded, and her right arm is essentially crippled with pain from the tumor pressing on a nerve. Our good year, it seems, is over.
She’s going through a zillion tests – multiple MRIs, X-rays, scans. I’m flying to Cleveland next week so I can be with her and my sister when the oncologist interprets the results for us and gives us options for moving forward.
You, of course, don’t know my mom. So let me tell you a little bit about her. She was a depression baby – didn’t get to go to college because she needed to work and contribute to her family’s income. The lack of a college degree, though, is absolutely no indication of how bright and capable my mom is. A killer Scrabble and bridge player, she combines raw intelligence with common sense, a lively personality and sharp humor. I like to think I got her common sense and humor genes. Unfortunately, her social skills and ability to attract and keep large numbers of friends seems to have skipped me – and gone directly to our son, who shares his grandmother’s charm.
My mom is … such a mom. She knew her diagnosis a month ago, but chose not to tell us or anyone else until after Carolyn had the baby. She didn’t want to ruin the joy of that moment for us with bad news. So she held onto the secret and dealt with it alone. I can barely even write about this without tearing up.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. A year ago, I didn’t think she had a chance of making it for this long. But I also know that she lives life on her terms, and she could well surprise us again. So I send up a quiet little prayer asking that her pain can be managed and she maintains the quality of life that is so important to her.
Because she’s my mom. And I love her.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( May 28 2009, 03:48:39 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [5]
Tuesday May 19, 2009 Yeah, I Know.. But I Still Love LA
A not-uncommon conversation, when heading to Los Angeles on a flight, goes something like this:
(Passenger 1) “So, where are you from?”
(Victim, uh, Passenger 2 – me) “Los Angeles.”
(Passenger 1) “Oh, that’s too bad. It’s such a terrible city. The smog, the traffic, the crime…”
(My outside voice) “Hmmm.” (My inside voice) “Gee, buddy. What Shangri La do you live in that’s so fabulous? Please just stay there….”
(Passenger 1) “No, seriously. How do you stand it? What an awful place to live.”
(My outside voice) “Guess it’s not for everyone.” (My inside voice) “May a plague of 1 million grasshoppers be feasting on your luggage as we speak…”
So why is that perfect strangers seem to feel that it’s fine to knock your hometown? I just don’t get it – to me, it’s the height of rudeness. I fervently pray that they will go away and never visit my city again – rude people are not needed here.
I’m going to share with you just a few FABULOUS things about Los Angeles. And if you don’t agree, no problem. Just don’t come here to live and then complain.
December through May: The weather. It’s sunny, cool and glorious. Our rainstorms are very well behaved – they come at night and clear out the next day, leaving the skies dazzling bright.
Disney Center, Dorothy Chandler Music Center, Pasadena Playhouse, Groundlings Theater…: Boredom only comes when you have no imagination. There is so much entertainment in this town that it’s crazy. And as my son will point out to you, there’s a huge club nightlife here, where you can go to a little hole-in-the-wall bar and catch a performance of the Hold Steady, only to find out later that they’ve been named best band of the year by NPR’s “All Songs Considered.”
People leave you alone: No, seriously. No one cares about your personal business. Jewish married to a Catholic? No one cares. Asian married to a Latino? Your business. Gay or straight? Don’t care. My husband comes from a small town and he constantly exclaims over how wonderful this is. Oh stop - I can hear tongues clucking. If you want that small sense of community and invite it into your life, you can be talked about if you like. After all, what would the starlet magazine business do without gossip?
The Art Scene: By the ton. For example, Saturday night we were invited to the Folly Bowl in Altadena. This is held in a private home where the artist owners carved an amphitheater into their hillside and created an intimate place for musicians to play. We sat there, with perhaps 80 other people, sipping our wine and eating our picnic dinner, while listening to great jazz up close and personal. For $10 each. As for galleries and art studios, don't get me started... so many that you could spend all your time wandering from one to the next...
As I think about it, I’m going to adjust my airplane conversation as such:
(Passenger 1) “So, where are you from?”
(Victim, uh, Passenger 2 – me) “Los Angeles.”
(Passenger 1) “Oh, that’s too bad. It’s such a terrible city. The smog, the traffic, the crime…”
(My outside voice) “Are you kidding? You don’t know the half of it! Mudslides! Earthquakes! No public transportation! Social unrest! Horrible people! Believe me, you DON’T want to live here!” (My inside voice): “Now go away and leave Los Angeles to those who can appreciate it!”
Posted by terrymckenzie ( May 19 2009, 03:51:24 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [2]
Friday May 15, 2009 I’ve done more reading in the past four months that I’ve done in the past four years. This is thanks to a combination of factors, largely my part-time status and my Kindle, which makes reading a true pleasure and provides endless material without the burden of carrying heavy books around.
I’ve read about politics, world affairs, and science. I’ve consumed memoirs, novels, short story collections, works of nonfiction. The good books I relish and hate to finish; the poorly written ones are abandoned with little regret.
So as we in the northern hemisphere move into summer, I want to make a deal – I’ll share my best reads with you if you share your best reads with me! And I’ll tell you at the start that I’ve been having problems with links on this blog site so I apologize for not being able to link you directly to more information on the books. Suffice it to say you can find them all at amazon.com (or amazon.com/kindle if you want them electronically).
I just finished The Lost City of Z, A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon (David Grann). This well-written book traces explorers in South America, focusing on Colonel Fawcett’s adventures in the early 20th century. Like the very best writing does, it takes you to a different world. In fact, The Lost City of Z does more than that – it takes you to Victorian England to learn about the Royal Geographic Society, dedicating to filling in “blank spots on the map.” It takes you to Brazil, and brings the deepest forest to life. It takes you to different societies of Amazon aboriginal people. This is a wonderful read – I hated to see it end.
On to short story collections. High on my list is Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri. What a great book. Eight short stories focusing on Bengali parents living in America. I found myself disappointed to reach the end of each of these stories because I was so absorbed in the characters’ lives and I wanted to know more. (BTW, these days I only read books available on my Kindle, so I’m hoping Amazon will make Lahiri’s other collections available electronically).
For fiction, the gentle, funny Breakfast with Buddha; A Novel (Roland Merullo) was another book I lingered over, regretting that each page turn moved me closer to the end. The story of an unlikely executive moving to self-discovery is not the kind of book that would ordinarily attract me, but the writing was superb and the story engaging. I’d reread this one, a rare compliment.
So there you go. Now it’s your turn – what are your favorite books? I’m always looking for recommendations!
Posted by terrymckenzie ( May 15 2009, 10:44:10 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]
Thursday May 07, 2009 Back in 1982, I was thrilled to have our first baby, but felt utterly incompetent to do the job properly. And when our second came along two years later, I still felt clumsy, juggling an infant with a toddler. So in trying to pin down what it is about being a grandmother that makes me incredibly happy, I’ve decided it’s at least partly because I can actually enjoy the baby instead of worrying and over-analyzing every minute of the day. This time, it’s sheer joy – the joy of impossibly soft skin, of how his little head cradles in my hand, of having him stare at me intently. The joy of seeing part of our daughter and son-in-law reflected in his little face. The joy of seeing the cycle of life go on. So go ahead – ask me how I feel about our new grandson, Lucas:
And ask Scott how he feels:
Holding a newborn feels like cradling a combination of the earthy and the sacred – such a raw little scrap of humanity, and such a miracle that he was born so whole and perfect. I can’t get over how good he smells, and sweet he is to cuddle.
All the joy, none of the work. We thank our daughter and son-in-law for giving us the gift of a grandchild, and we promise to do our very best to be the best grandparents we can possibly be.
Carolyn holding an hours-old Lucas
Carolyn and Juan Carlos with their new son
Posted by terrymckenzie ( May 07 2009, 08:21:45 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [3]
Monday April 27, 2009 A couple of weeks ago, I joined some friends to attend the preview party for what was to be the famous Michael Jackson auction. I usually don’t hang out with the rich and famous, so I was eagerly anticipating the evening. Plus, come on… aren’t you just a little curious about what stuff Michael Jackson blew his entire fortune on (lawyer fees and payoffs to children aside, of course)?
Well. It was eye-opening, to say the least. The auction showing was held in a now defunct department store in Beverly Hills – the perfect setting. Walking up from the parking lot, you passed through the old gates from his Neverland estate (estimated price of “you-don’t-want-to-know”). After picking up our VIP passes, beautifully embossed with a four-color rendition of the King of Pop, we got some Jesus Juice (what you and I think of as “wine”) and started to wander around the exhibit.
First, the sheer volume of stuff was overwhelming. This is a man who never saw a trinket he didn’t need to have. If it was Baroque and covered with gold scrolls, he had to have it. Endless sets of china, glassware, silver. Hideous table decorations. Room after room filled with…stuff.
About one-third of the exhibit was devoted to his collection of toys. An almost life-sized robotic case with puppets of Pinocchio and his fairy godmother played the transformation from puppet to child at the touch of a button. Castles, tricycles, more Disney toys, hundreds of life-sized dolls, including Shirley Temple in ringlets and a starched crinoline skirt, curtseying. A huge castle.
And then there were the life-sized mannequins, so realistic that when I bumped into one, I turned to say, “Excuse me.” The mannequins were in a variety of poses, from playing the piano to doing paperwork at a desk. I asked someone what the heck was with the pretend people, and he told me that Michael got so lonesome at Neverland that he had these mannequins placed throughout his mansion so he wouldn’t be there all by himself.
Instead of being funny and a kick in the pants, the exhibit made us profoundly sad. Think of the good that money could do in this world. Think of how Bill and Melissa Gates use their vast fortune. Think of how Bono works to better mankind’s lot in life. And then see how Michael Jackson plundered his own fortune on piles of crap that are just plain creepy.
Money can buy you stuff. Money can allow you to surround yourself with huge portraits of yourself depicted as a king, magician or knight. Money can buy you a big estate filled with toys. Money can buy you companionship. But it can’t buy you love. Or friendship. Or meaning in life.
Go home and hug those you love. And be grateful that you have a life of friendship, love and meaning instead of a castle filled with emptiness and lost opportunity.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Apr 27 2009, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [5]
Thursday April 23, 2009 There's Gotta be a Pony in There Somewhere
I've sat down to write this post a number of times, just to find myself staring at the screen with nothing to say. While out walking my lovely dog today, however, I finally figured out how I was feeling.
Some years back, I did some volunteer work with the Guide Dogs for the Blind organization. As I'm sure you know, the organization looks for good families to foster their puppies for the first two years of the dogs' lives, during which time the dog is trained and tested and trained some more. For those pups who have passed all their tests, there comes a time to meet their adoptive parents, blind people who are eagerly anticipating working with and getting to know their new guide dogs. The annual graduation day celebration is bittersweet. There's joy on the faces of the recipients, and both tears and pride on the faces of the foster parents who must say goodbye.
So what on earth does this have to do with the Oracle announcement this week?
That change is hard. That some of us are changing surroundings, colleagues, homes. That skills and knowledge learned in one environment will now be tested in another. That new opportunities await all of us, whether we are going to be part of the new organization, or if like me and many of my colleagues, we likely shall not. That saying goodbye to something that is so dear to you is very, very painful, but that life moves.
I've used this quote here before, and I'm going to use it again. In a famous Pogo cartoon, the great philosopher possum said,
“The misery of uncertainty is far worse than certainty of misery.” (Walt Kelly)
What we have been through as a company over the past month has been just plain dreadful. Rumors, innuendos, nastiness that has been devastating to our employee morale. Well, we're just about at graduation day, and at least we know where we're going and why. That's so much better than where we were just a week ago. When I talk to friends and colleagues, there's huge relief in their voices – although a job search may await in a tough market, as least the guessing games are over.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Apr 23 2009, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]
Thursday April 16, 2009 Admittedly, I've come a long way in the past year. Since my second cataract surgery, I have not fallen down once. Given that the year before my surgery, I took two serious tumbles – one that resulted in several cracked ribs, a cracked clavicle and a blown-out knee, and the other that left me with a broken arm and dislocated elbow (want to feel the plate in my arm??).
I had come to the conclusion that I have the grace of an ox on a tightrope.
But now that I can see, it's amazing! I'm not falling, tripping, stumbling – well, at least nowhere near as much as I did in the past. So when I saw this fabulous shoe from Cole Hahn, I had dreams of wearing it and, well, looking fabulous.
And then I had a moment of sad reality – this shoe was designed for twisted ankles and lurching falls into thin air, at least as worn by me. The mental picture I had of myself dressed to kill was accurate – except that the person I would be killing would be ... me!
So go ahead, all you graceful gazelles out there who can trip the light fantastic, not the body clumsy - indulge yourselves. You won't mind if I stare at your feet, will you? Be assured that it's just jealousy, not a foot fetish. I swear.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Apr 16 2009, 01:12:51 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]
