543 Magazine

Category: Personal

  • The Ghosts of Writing

    The Ghosts of Writing

    It was time to take Riley for his morning walk. I knew it and Riley knew it, which was why he was staring at me through the office doorway with those big dog eyes.

    “Okay,” I told him. “Let’s go.” And that’s when the text came in.

    “Be careful” was printed on the screen.

    I texted back, “I will.”

    I started to get up, heard a buzz, and read: “And be alert to your surroundings, and if anything happens, call me right away.”
    I texted the thumbs-up sign, stuck the phone in my pocket, and we headed out.

    Now, when a former crime boss tells you to be alert to your surroundings, you listen. After all, this particular crime boss has survived multiple assassination attempts and knows how to react and how to survive when someone means you harm. And today, yeah, someone meant me harm.

    Was Peter, the former crime boss, overreacting? Sure. I mean, I knew that Esekiel —not his real name, but the one I’ll use—wasn’t hiding in my neighborhood with a sniper rifle. No way. After all, Ezekiel lived several states away, and his threats were more . . . What? Personal? Vindictive? Vengeful? Chicken shit? Sure. But I did stay alert to my surroundings as Peter told me to. And so did Riley.

    It’s funny that in my business life—my sales funnel, working lunch, PO-gathering, proposal-delivering life—I’ve never, ever had a single issue where any specific person wanted to do me harm. Not one. Sure, I’ve had people upset with me; I’ve blown deals, burned bridges, all that normal stuff. Bad things happened and we moved on because that’s how most of the world works.

    But in my writing world, in my creative life, over 30 years, I have had 4 people who have wanted me . . . well, maybe not dead, but hurt. Wounded. Broken. Damaged. And these people went to extreme means to pursue that goal.

    That means that 4 times my average—yes, in my world, 0 x 4 = 4—from normal world to writing world, there have been issues where former clients wanted bad, sometimes very bad, things to happen to me.

    Ezekiel is the most recent. And the most bizarre.

    I met Ezekiel a year and a half ago. He was working for a wealthy businessman in a different country who had a book that was successful there. Ezekiel’s client wanted to bring this book to the United States, so Ezekiel was hired as the translator for a Zoom call between this gentleman and myself.

    The meeting went well, I agreed to help, and Ezekiel set up another call for a different project. That one looked promising as well, and so did the next one. Then Ezekiel told me about his own project. His book. I listened.

    “Since I bring you so much business,” he said, “you market my book for free, yes?”

    It was phrased as a question, but it really wasn’t.

    “I guess,” I said. “Sure. If all these other projects come in.”

    Some did. Some didn’t. And the few that did were smaller in fees than the client promised . And it was also at this time that I realized that Ezekiel was not only extremely high maintenance—he was calling, emailing, and texting multiple times a day—but there was also something . . . else. Ezekiel was—what’s the right word? Oh yeah. Nuts.

    Ezekiel is way, way out there. Besides the serious personality defects of being arrogant, hostile, manipulative, controlling, and rigid, Ezekiel is also never, ever wrong. Even though I could see there were times that he knew he was wrong, it was obvious even he knew he was, but he could never admit it. I’ve never seen anything like it. If he messed up and said that the sky was pink, from that point on, even after he realized the truth, the sky would be pink.

    I knew pretty quickly that I couldn’t work with Ezekiel on his project. No way. So, before it officially began, I reached out and nicely told him that my workload had increased and I couldn’t take him on. Then I offered to pay him a commission on the writing jobs that he recommended me for instead of taking on his job for free.

    This was the first snap.

    Ezekiel demanded—and that’s the perfect word here: demanded—that I take on his book project. I declined.

    Before I go any further, let me give an analogy here to prepare you for what’s coming next.

    Let’s say that I have a car I want to you to buy. And I really, really want you to buy this car, but you don’t want to. So I call you every day. I start following you to work to talk about the car. I’m at your favorite lunch place to ask if you want to buy the car. I’m outside your house. I text you continuously, asking you to buy the car.

    Sure, okay, I can do all of those things. It’s obnoxious, but not crazy.

    What I probably wouldn’t do—and what most other humans beings would probably never do—is contact your boss and tell them that you are untrustworthy because of this car transaction you backed out on, and that you should be fired. I most likely would not reach out to the principal of your kids’ school and tell them that you have some legal issues involving a car that they should know about. And I definitely wouldn’t meet with the pastor of your church talking about your car fraud, all the while telling you that this can all stop, all of this will go away, if you just—just—buy this car.

    No. I wouldn’t do that. Few people would. . . .

    Now let’s go back to Ezekiel a year and a half ago, when first I told him I couldn’t work with him. Ezekiel knew enough about me to launch a bizarre attack. He contacted my literary agent—a person he had no connection to or dealings with in any way—to complain about my ethics and to suggest that I be dropped as a client. He reached out to several of the parties involved in a big book announcement that had just been made, letting them know about my flawed character. He sent emails, made calls, and contacted anyone he could to bring pressure on me. All the while, he kept telling me that all of this would stop if I just worked on his book.

    Strangely, if there was one emotion that rose up for me during that time, it was shame. Isn’t that weird? You’d think it would be anger or fear, but nope. It was just truckloads of shame that were delivered, to mix with the piles of embarrassment and imposter syndrome that were already inside me. I felt terrible that these key people in my creative life were being made to suffer because of me. I was ashamed.

    But I had no time to wallow in this shame; I had to fix it. I reached out to get help from an incredible gentleman who does conflict resolution. He met with Ezekiel. He met with me. He prepared me for what I needed to do and we all got on a Zoom call together.

    It was done. I would walk away. Ezekiel would find someone else. The harassment would stop, and life would go back to normal.

    And it did.

    For one year.

    Until this Saturday.

    Now, knowing Ezekiel, something must have happened to him this past week that reminded him that I was still out there. Something brought back the realization that he was over there, and I was over here—me, the disobedient; me, the non-compliant. That realization must have created an itch.

    Because on Saturday, completely out of the blue, after I hadn’t heard from him in a year, Ezekiel resurfaced. He emailed me a multipage manifesto of his plans to contact the Writer’s Guild with a formal complaint about my moral conduct. He told me that I had two days to agree to work with him on his book or he would write and file a damaging report that would stop my career.

    Now, the one difference between this new Ezekiel battle and the first one was that Ezekiel can’t surprise me this time. I know his MO. I can’t stop him if he writes to the Writer’s Guild—an organization I have no connection to and that has no authority over me, by the way—but I knew what he was capable of outside of that. So I circled the wagons and got in front of the problem.

    I quickly contacted the list of people I thought he would reach out to: I started with my literary agent. Then I contacted Peter, the former crime boss, whose book is going to be pretty high-profile in a few months when it is released—something Ezekiel could easily see on Google. I sent a cease and desist to Ezekiel and told him that I had contacted my literary agent, I also contacted people I work with so they would let me know if he reached out to them. I informed him that I had done all this as a courtesy. The next step would be to pursue legal action.

    So, what’s the point of all of this? Well, I told you all of that to get to these three points:

    The first is that I Peter and I had become friends. He and I have been working on his book for over two years, and we’ve become incredibly close. But I was totally unprepared at how protective and angry he became when I told him about Ezekiel. Peter called and texted me multiple times a day, checking in, making sure I was all right. He was so upset that he wanted me to come stay at his house or for him to come and stay with me. I was incredibly touched by this.

    The second point is that my literary agent and I talked right after I told her about Ezekiel. “Look, kiddo,” she said. “I know who you are, and we know who you are, and no one is going to ever change that. We’ve all got this together.”

    Which brings me to the third and most important point.

    After writing for almost three decades, I’ve discovered that the joy, the pleasure, the impact that comes from writing doesn’t come just from the work, but from those connected to it. It’s born from the strength and love of the people who have joined you, because their success is now is tied to yours. They win if you win. They are your partners. They are your friends.

    And a hundred Ezekiel’s can never take that away.

  • The depression agreement

    The depression agreement

    Robin Williams, Hunter S Thompson, Anthony Bourdain …Yup, they all committed suicide. But they also have something else in common.

    What is the demographic of people—what age group and what sex— that will commit suicide the most in the U.S. this year?

    Now, if your answer is teenagers and young adult males, then you would be absolutely correct.

    If it was 1997.

    But it’s not.

    The group that now dominates the top of the suicide chart, year after year, with little sign of slowing down, is middle-aged men. In fact, males between the ages of 45 and 64 made up almost 70% of the suicides that occurred last year. 1

    Not far behind are middle-aged women, between age 45 and 64. In fact, suicide rates for women of that age group actually increased by 60% between 2000 and 2016. 1

    And those numbers only reflect the 50,000 people each year who die by suicide in this country. They don’t include the 1.4 million people who attempt to kill themselves each year but fail or are rescued. And the numbers are still skewed because they also don’t include the large number of suicides each year that are hidden as car accidents and other means and not reported as self-inflicted.

    If these statistics aren’t powerful enough, the numbers are actually climbing. The number of national suicides has risen 33% since 1999. And the National Center for Health Statistics recently reported that the U.S. suicide rate is now the highest it’s been since World War II. 2

    That means we are now killing ourselves more often than we ever did in the past, but it also means that the ones leading the charge, middle-aged people, are the parents and grandparents to the same age group that used to be at the highest suicide risk only a few decades ago.

    Why is this?

    Why is this generation of middle aged individuals, who are supposed to be at the top of their game, with the most life experiences, earning more, experiencing more, and having the technology to tie them to more opportunities and information than any other group in history, in such emotional and mental pain that they think that suicide is the only way to relieve it?

    I don’t know.

    I mean, there are theories, many, many theories of why the middle-aged suicide rate is so high, and there are the pat answers: mental health issues, drug and alcohol addiction, depression and anxiety disorders.

    But if you look into each middle-aged group, you do see some common markers. Middle-aged men—this strong and independent group—often see admitting to feelings of depression or anxiety as a weakness. They’re extremely reluctant to tell anyone when issues arise and even less likely to seek professional help. Middle-aged men who commit suicide are often experiencing severe financial stress, recent job loss, debt, and a myriad of other life pressures that affect their sense of worth. Plus they are in a very unique position, begin raised by that self-sufficient generation that survived The Great Depression and World War II.

    The markers for middle-aged women often align with severe emotional stresses: marriage issues or loss, infidelity, depression, and anxiety. Interestingly, the suicide statistics for this group might actually be higher than those for middle-aged men, if not for the fact that women often choose pills and other methods to kill themselves that are less reliable than firearms—the common male choice. More women than men attempt suicide and are rescued.

    Okay, so what’s the point of all of this?

    Well, here it is.

    I am a middle-aged man. And I am depressed. And I have been for a while.

    There. I said it.

    And no, I will not kill myself. How do I know? Because, like many of us, I’m simply not built that way. My wiring won’t allow it. But that doesn’t mean the dark times don’t come. When they do, it’s pretty overwhelming. And to answer your question, yes, I have gone to see someone, and yes, I have tried antidepressants—two different prescriptions actually. They just didn’t work for me.

    And yes, I also feel like I am betraying the people I care the most about simply by feeling this way. I worry that my family will feel that they’re not enough, that it’s something they did, some flaw in them, which is absolutely not true and is part of the reason why I have kept this hidden.

    I have enormous guilt about making this public statement because I have a wonderful and beautiful wife of almost 30 years, two amazing kids I absolutely love, a job that is challenging, a roof over my head. Yeah, I get it. I know how much I have to be grateful for.

    But that’s not the point of writing this. The point is that I think I may have stumbled onto something. Something kind of important. And I wanted to give it to anyone who might be able to use it.

    So, let’s start with this: When a person is suffering a deep depression, it’s so huge, so overwhelming, it’s all they can see. They open their eyes and it’s everywhere, all over, weighing down on them from all directions. Anything new that comes in has to cut through all that fog first. And because the depression is so incredibly massive, those experiencing it just expect that others can see it on them. I mean, how could they not? It’s all over us! Like chickenpox or a black eye. We expect people to run up and say, “Holy cow, what happened to you?”

    But they don’t.

    We see friends at our kids’ school, in the neighborhood. We sit next to them at little league games and talk for hours. And then . . . well, then nothing. They don’t see it, they don’t say anything, and we move on. And when these people don’t notice anything different about us, when they aren’t concerned, we think: “Great, no one cares.” And this hurt causes us to move us away from these people, from most people, as well as from the activities and areas we used to take joy in, and that moves us more toward . . . ourselves.

    And here is the great irony.

    Ready? Most of us—especially those in a state of depression—don’t really like ourselves all that much. Or even a little bit. Or at all. And now that we’ve pushed all other people away, we’re living on a deserted island with the very individual we don’t want to spend time with. Ourselves.

    What’s the most controversial punishment in the federal prison system today? Solitary confinement. Or what prison officials call “the prison within the prison.” Studies on solitary confinement and social isolation show that there is a physical effect on the brain that slows down the brain’s ability to use the feel-good neurotransmitters dopamine and serotonin, and over time this can actually cause physical changes in the brain. 3

    See, I have always considered myself a fairly selfless person. But depression is an incredibly selfish act—at least, for me it is. Why? Because it’s all about how I feel, what I am experiencing, and what I am going through. It forces you to plan, react, think, and strategize, 100%, on yourself.

    You are in pain, but it’s your pain. You feel worthless, but it’s your feeling of worthlessness. You feel helpless, but you are the one feeling this way, and the microscope is turned so far inward that the rest of the world simply becomes white noise.

    And you begin to think in terms of away, rather than toward. What you want to avoid, rather than what you want to experience—because, often, the only thing we want to experience is sleep, or alcohol, or Netflix, or food, or whatever deep numbness we can get to the most quickly. And when you do that often enough, the world becomes incredibly small. We crawl into our own self-inflicted solitary confinement.

    But reality is that the world isn’t small. At all. And the world needs us.

    There are people all around us, every day, in every capacity, and they need us. They need us to listen and to care and to be part of their lives, even if it’s just having a conversation or showing up for their kid’s dance recital or bringing over a bowl of chili when you make too much. They need us.

    When I think about the people I have pushed away, shunned, people who might be screaming inside just as much as I am, hurting and in trouble, I’m ashamed. There are others who simply want me to be part of the special times of their lives. In fact, one of my closest friends had a baby a month ago and I still haven’t seen him. I’ve avoided it, gotten out of it, and probably seriously hurt him, and that’s the most selfish act I can think of—sorry, Dave.

    But no more.

    At this point you might say, so you’re saying the cure for depression is to suck it up and go take a casserole to your neighbor?

    Nope.

    But I’m saying that my depression needs to be less about me and more about the people around me. I need to be part of their lives and they need to be part of mine and it doesn’t matter that I don’t like myself, because it’s not about me. At all.

    I said that I am someone who could never kill himself. and that wasn’t entirely true. Over the years, I have already done it. I have pulled myself so far away that I am now socially, mentally, spiritually, and intellectually dead.

    But no more.

    I want to knock on all the houses I’ve passed on Fiddlers Green and say, “Hey, you don’t know me, but I’m the guy who has lived in this neighborhood for 12 years, pass you every day, and don’t even know your name.” I will break the cycle and go to the Elks Club fundraiser with our neighbors that invited us, and I will remind my family every day of how incredibly special and important they are.

    I don’t pretend this is the cure for anything. It’s not meant to be. It’s a responsibility. A duty. It’s the agreement you sign when you join the human race, and I have seriously defaulted on that agreement.

    And yeah, sure, this may not change anything as far as my depression goes. In six months, I may still be here.

    Maybe.

    But at least I’ll be alive.

    I’ll be socially, intellectually, and spiritually alive.

    And that’s good enough for me.

    1 2017, report Centers for Disease Control and Prevention — https://www.cdc.gov/vitalsigns/suicide/index.html
    2 National Institute of Mental Health, 2017 report — https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/suicide.shtml
    3 Behavior Neuroscience, Emotions, 2016 — https://neuwritesd.org/2016/12/08/the-neuroscience-of-loneliness/

  • What your health club — won’t tell you

    What your health club — won’t tell you

    shutterstock_327066863

    Okay, let’s say you open a bakery.

    You are now the proud owner and operator of Tralfaz Bakery.

    Congratulations.

    Which means that you went out found a location, bought equipment, hired some people, opened your doors and you are now in the baked goods business.

    Now the first question is, how do you make your money? How does Tralfaz Bakery operate?

    Well, it’s pretty straight forward. You produce income by selling baked goods to the public. And you do this by purchasing raw materials — flour, sugar, eggs — and then using those raw materials to make sellable goods — breads, cookies and cakes. You mark up these goods accordingly and when you sell them, you can not only cover your overhead and invest back into the business, but pay for more raw materials — to make more sellable goods.

    Boom.

    So, the business model for your bakery is clear and linear. The more goods you sell, the more money you make. And as long as this process is not interrupted, as long as your costs and your customer base don’t change, the bakery will continue on successfully.

    Now, let’s say you get bored with Tralfaz Bakery. You sell it and buy Tralfaz Motors; a car dealership. Which means that you make a profit by selling new cars. True, but in order to sell those new cars, you take in customer’s old cars in trade and resell them. Then, you also make a profit on the extras you sell to the customer; extended warrantees, service plans and rust treatments. And, you make a profit on servicing and repairing the cars that you sell. And, you make a profit on the markup of the parts you stock to repair those cars.

    Your business model is still clear — even though it has multiple income streams — and is still linear. You make money by selling cars, car repair and maintenance services.

    Okay, last one. You wake up one morning and sell Tralfaz Motors and decide to open up — ta-da — Tralfaz Fitness, a full service health club.

    So how do you make your money?

    Well, if you own a health club that means that you went out and leased a building. You stocked it with exercise equipment for both cardio and strength training. You allocated safe areas for fitness classes, as well as shower and locker space for customers. You hired fitness professionals and you priced memberships to cover your costs and build in profit. Then — you determined how many guests you can support at that facility, as well as how many guests you need to come in just to cover your costs.

    And as long as the customers keep coming in, as long as the number of members remains between the base number you need to cover costs and the maximum number you can service from that facility — you’ll continue on successfully.

    And that is what we call — a lie.

    That’s not how health clubs operate.

    At all.

    Not even a little bit.

    Health clubs operate by selling long term memberships to people and — now here comes the good part — then incentivizing them to — never come in.

    Ever.

    A health club makes its money selling annuities – long term financial commitments that produce an ongoing income stream at a 100% profit margin. They sell air.

    What? That’s ridiculous.

    Okay, let’s look at a few things.

    An average corporate gym has about 10,000 paid members. But only 2,000 of those members actually use the facility. One-fifth of the people that purchase these memberships — do not use them.

    Planet Fitness — one of the biggest gym chains in the country — has facilities that can support around 300 members per site. Yet each site signs up in excess of —-  6,000 members per site.

    Okay, but that’s not the gym’s fault. If people aren’t disciplined enough to keep coming, that’s just how people are.

    Well, let’s see if that’s true. And we can do this by looking at how gym workers are incentivized? How do they make money? By the number of pounds the members loose? By the fitness success of the members? By how happy the customer base is?

    Nope. By selling new memberships. In fact, almost all health club employees have a sales quota that they need to meet each month and the high employee turnaround is largely due to individuals who can’t meet these sales goals.

    Here’s a fun one. Track the response you get when you walk in the gym and ask for information on joining. Then track the response when you walk in a week later and ask for a towel.

    The employees are not incentivized to give you towels. Travis, your buddy who signed you up for that great three year deal, doesn’t even remember your name now. In fact, they are actually incentivized to make sure that you stop coming.

    Look at what happens at a gym between the time you sign up and once you stop going. Let’s say you haven’t been there in a month. Two months. Four. What happens?

    Well, that’s easy. Nothing happens. Nothing at all.

    No calls. No email reminders. No encouragement to come back. Because they don’t want you to come back. If you do, you are wearing down their equipment, using their water and towels and cutting into the profit margin. But if you stay away — that’s pure profit.

    And that’s what gyms really are; financial institutions. They sell these long term financial agreements to customers, then they go the bank and show the cash flow. In fact, these gyms then take all this financial billing and sell that to another company. So they aren’t even collecting your money. By the time you are out the door, your payment has been transferred to the finance company and the gym hopes you never come back.

    In fact, these annuities are the entire structure of the business model of a health club. They have a solid cash flow based on the complicated and long term contracts with members, and they have no limit with the number of new members they can sign up. In fact, the only limitation is the demographic of the region where the gym is located. If it could, a health club that can support 300, would gladly take on 10,000 members or more.

    Here is a quick test. Walk into your gym after you’ve signed up and gauge the response you get from the staff.

    Then turnaround and walk into your bank and gauge the response you get from the staff. The bank will be all over you — good morning sir, how are we doing today? Is there anything else I can do for you? Thanks for banking with us.

    Because you can leave your bank. But leaving your gym is a little more complicated. Not only are there serious fees and penalties for cancelling, but the structure itself is  designed to keep you ever from cancelling it.

    Recently, I decided that I didn’t want to spend twenty dollars a month — along with that high yearly fee — for the right to carry the Club Fitness key tag around with me. So after years of membership, I called to cancel.

    I was told that I could not cancel over the phone. I had to come in.

    So I went in. But I was told that I had to cancel with a manager and had to come in when one was on duty.

    So I went back when a manager was on duty. But the manager was tied up. So I made an appointment to meet with the manager the following week.

    When I got there a week later, the manager was tied up again and I waited. But the manager was never free to meet with me.

    So after about four months of this, I called and said that I could not catch a manager and needed to cancel my membership — immediately. I was told that if I mailed in a certified letter stating that I wanted to cancel, that would take care of everything.

    So I wrote a letter and sent it in certified. A few weeks later, the sender receipt came back to me signed.

    There. Done.

    Then I noticed the next month that I was not only billed again — but had the yearly fee billed as well.

    So I made a copy of the certified letter, drove down to the gym to meet with a manager — who of course, wasn’t there. I left the copy of the letter, with a message to call my cell phone — ASAP.

    Three days later, since I did not hear back, I called and asked for a manager. She was tied up. After telling the person on the phone that I would stay on hold —- forever, she suddenly became free.

    The manager looked up my account, saw that they certified letter came in, saw that it was processed and that it was filed. And — congratulations. Done. I had now successfully —- given my one month notice.

    What?

    Yes sir. When you signed up, you agreed to giving us a month written notice if you ever wanted to cancel. So after being billed next month, your membership will end.

    So what does all this mean? That gyms are evil?

    No. But it does mean that they are unethical. That their business model is deceptive and their practices are deigned to get us to pay for something that we don’t use.

    It’s an illusion.

    So what’s the answer?

    Well, just because you go to a health club — doesn’t mean you’re healthy. And just because you don’t go to a health club — doesn’t mean you’re not.

    You are in control of your health.

    And your money.

    So you need to determine what you are going to do — and no prepackaged health club membership can do that for you.

  • The bomb shelter diet

    The bomb shelter diet

    bomb

    Klaus Fuchs was extremely smart.

    He was born in 1911, in Rüsselsheim, Germany, and from a very young age demonstrated a clear gift in mathematics and the sciences; breezing through his primary education and then being accepted into The University of Leipzig.

    Klaus studied mathematics and physics at the University, and this is where he first became involved in student politics; joining both the Social Democratic Party of Germany, as well as the Reichsbanner Schwarz-Rot-Gold, the Communist Party’s paramilitary arm.

    Now, while Klaus was still in school, on February, 27, 1933, a Berlin fire station received an alarm for the German Parliament. They quickly responded and found that the entire Chamber of Deputies was engulfed in flames — and because of the size of the fire as well as its political location, arson was suspected. So fireman fought the fire, while the police surrounded the complex to look for evidence.

    What they found, was Marinus van der Lubbe, a young Dutch Communist, inside one of the buildings. Lubbe was arrested and confessed to being involved in the arson. Soon three other men were arrested — Georgi Dimitrov, Blagoi Popov and Vasil Tanev — all Communist Party members and all confessed to the crime. They were tried and later executed.

    The event became known as, The Reichstag Fire, and here is where things really get interesting. Only a month before this, a man named Adolf Hitler had been sworn in as Chancellor of Germany. Hitler was outraged at this attack, and saw the fire as solid evidence that communists were plotting against the German government. Hitler urged President Paul von Hindenburg to pass an emergency decree that would suspend all civil liberties in order to counter this ruthless hostility. He did. And when this occurred — Nazi Germany was born. Almost overnight, the Nazi Party went from a political entity, to a dictatorship. With Adolf Hitler at the wheel.

    So the question is, did Hitler orchestrate The Reichstag Fire?

    Well historians have been trying to prove this for decades without much luck. It’s very possible that he did. And it’s also possible that he only took advantage of this opportunistic moment — to use fear as a vehicle to seize control of the government. But either way, Germany quickly become a Nazi controlled country, as well as one where being a card carrying Communist, could be extremely dangerous. So Klaus Fuchs went into hiding until he could get out of the country later that year.

    In September of 1933, Fuchs fled to England where he worked as a physics research assistant at the University of Bristol, and in 1937 he received his Ph.D. in physics. After this, he worked at the University of Edinburgh, where he earned a second Ph.D. in Science.

    Then World War II broke out.

    After spending some time in Canada, Fuchs returned to England where he began working on The Tube Alloys Project — England’s covert atomic bomb group. And this is where Fuchs began his career as a spy. He immediately began passing detailed information on the project, directly to The Soviet Union.

    In 1943 Fuchs went to New York City, to work on the Manhattan Project and then in  1944 to the Los Alamos Laboratory — where he developed the calculations relating to the first nuclear weapons as well as early models of the hydrogen bomb.

    Then came Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the end of the war. Klaus returned to the UK and worked at the Atomic Energy Research Establishment as the head of the Theoretical Physics Division.

    Five years later, on January 31, 1950, President Harry Truman announced his decision to develop The Superbomb. A hydrogen weapon that would be one hundred times more powerful than the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki — with Klaus Fuchs having a front row seat to the project. And on November 1, 1952, the United States successfully detonated Mike, the world’s first hydrogen bomb. This ten megaton thermonuclear device, was detonated the Pacific Marshall Islands — it vaporized the entire island and left a mile long crater behind.

    Fuchs’ luck ran out later that year.

    While passing some sensitive information to a Soviet contact, American intelligence followed and arrested him. He was questioned and confessed; which led to his trial and eventually lead to him being sentenced to fourteen years in prison. But the damage had already been done — the Soviet Union now knew everything we knew, about the hydrogen bomb.

    On November 22, 1955, the Soviet Union detonated its first hydrogen bomb; based on the same principle of radiation implosion as Mike —- with the same results.

    Which meant that both superpowers were now in possession of what had been called — the hell bomb.

    Two of the most powerful nations in the world, both had a weapon that could kill millions on both sides. And they didn’t like each other very much.

    The US announced that it would use massive retaliation to any Communist aggression, and for the first time in history, the world lived under the threat of thermonuclear war.

    Movies, films, books, television, newspapers — all echoed the fear of nuclear obliteration. And on October 6, 1961, President John F. Kennedy addresses the American people, and asked them to — build bomb shelters to protect themselves and their families against nuclear fallout.

    The President of the United States — one of the most powerful men in the world — asked his people to — dig a hole and get ready to hide in it.

    It wasn’t now a question of — if it would happen — it was now — when would it happen.

    Bomb shelters began to pop up everywhere. These ranged from a corner of the basement, built up with sandbags and food and water, to elaborate underground rooms with ventilation and water purification systems.

    Civil Defense agencies provided canned drinking water and water packaged in milk cartons, to citizens. Fallout drills were exercised in schools and public buildings. We were preparing.

    We had a plan and we knew where to hide and wait it out. And we had a stockpile of the basics — canned goods, dried goods, food stuffs, water. We just wanted to survive. That’s all. Nothing fancy. We just wanted to — live.

    And we waited.

    And we watched.

    And the bombs — never came.

    And that was good.

    And the bomb shelters remained unused. And then they became root sellers and playhouses and storage. And that was good too.

    But along with all that good —- came one bad thing —.

     

    WHAT IS A BOMB SHELTER?

     

    A bomb shelter is a safety net. It’s a place where the basics can be taken care of. It’s the fallback plan. The retreat point. It’s a ready area  where you and the people you care about, can go to get the basics taken care of and to be safe.

    Talk of bomb shelters today are rare, unless you are referring to the trend of Doomsday Prepping or simply Prepping.

    Prepping is similar to the movement of bomb shelters in the 1950’s and 1960’s, in that it is the preparing for a particular disaster to occur — a governmental collapse, massive chemical warfare, an electromagnetic pulse that will wipe out all electronics — but there are two main differences between preppers and those who built bomb shelters during the cold war.

    The first is, that modern prepping is more individualistic and less community based. You see evidence of this in that during the cold war, the list of items to include in your shelter contained many things, but weapons were never one of them. With modern preppers, weapons and ammunition are high on the list — in fact, many preppers have small arsenals set aside to protect their stockpiles.

    And the second difference is, that the modern day preppers are almost hoping that the disasters they are preparing for will occur. They are highly invested in them. So when the government does collapse, when modern currency no longer has value, when the world is left unprotected and vulnerable, then we will be on top of the food chain — simply because we will have the most food, water and guns.

    So bad things can’t happen?

    Oh absolutely they can — and probably will. But you are much more likely to lose your job, than you are of having your home attacked by a biological weapon.

    You are much more likely to be in a car accident, be hurt at work, or have a major health issue, than you are of experiencing a governmental collapse.

    And you are much more likely to go through a career downsizing or industrial shift where your current skill set is worth far less than it once was, than you are of experiencing a nuclear attack.

    But all of these things are life altering — a layoff is not as sexy as an asteroid, but it can still do some damage if you’re not ready for it.

    It was good that cold war didn’t escalate to something far worse. But the casualty of that time period is that sense of preparation didn’t migrate forward. That sense of simplicity, of basic need, didn’t trickle down through the decades.

     

    MISSIONARIES

     

    Many years ago, a missionary couple from Africa was traveling through my hometown and was going to speak at our church. While they were there, my parents had them stay with them and while giving them a quick tour of the area, my mother stopped at the small grocery store to pick a few things up. In one of the aisles, the man just stopped talking. He froze.

    “What —?” he asked, pointing at all the colored jars. “Is this?”

    My mother looked to where he was pointing and answered. “Jelly,” she said. “And jams.”

    He stood there. Unable to take his eyes off all the different flavors, styles and sizes of jellies and jams.

    “Why,” he asked. “Would anyone need — twelve flavors of jelly?”

    And he wasn’t mocking her, he wasn’t judging her. He was only asking a question — to something that he couldn’t understand.

    Why would something as luxurious as jelly, something as rare as jam —- not a necessity but a true delicacy — why would you care, what flavor it was?

    But we do. We do care what flavor it is. And we care how much if it we have. And we care what brand it is. And what it looks like and how we look holding it.

    In Africa — food is survival.

    In Europe — food is social.

    In the US, food — has become something so much more.

     

    FOOD IRONIES

     

    • 32% of all homeless people, are obese. (Boston Health Care Study, 2008).

     

    • In a 2012 study, 42% of the time that we eat, was done because we are — afraid of being hungry later

     

    • 27% of all the food we buy, we end up throwing away — 160 Billion pounds of food each year in the US alone. And still, 75% of us are overweight and 36% of us are obese.

     

    • The average American spends three hours a month, staring into a refrigerator; trying to determine if he is hungry or not. And during peak times, we average fifteen to twenty minutes wait time to get into a restaurant. Yet — ‘not having enough time’ is listed as the key issue for most Americans.

     

    • A dinner in France averages two hours, and a dinner in the US averages forty minutes. Yet the obesity level in the US is twice of that in France.

     

    • A 2011 University of Michigan study asked, how long could a person live without food? The most common belief was — 37 hours. (With water a person can live three weeks or more without food).

     

    • The cost of eating one (1) lunch out, is equivalent to the cost of six (6) packed lunches from home. Yet the most common reason listed for people that don’t bring lunch to work is, — I don’t want to look poor.

     

    • A Cliff energy bar has 280 calories. A Snickers candy bar has 215.

     

    • 23% of all high income homes, eat at a restaurant once a day. 78% of all low income homes eat at a restaurant once a day.

     

    • The average food markup at a restaurant is 300% — for a meal priced at twenty dollars or less. The average food markup for fast food is 400% — for a meal priced at six dollars or less.

     

    • We are seven times as likely to eat at a restaurant, then we are of inviting someone to our home for a meal, or to going to someone’s home for one.

     

     THE BOMB SHELTER DIET

    A bomb shelter is safety. It is a vessel that contains the basic needs — food, shelter, water, medical supplies.

    The food in a bomb shelter will have several things in common.

     

    • It will be able to be stored for a long time — rice, pasta, oats, dried beans, can all be stored for thirty years or more.

     

    • It will require no refrigeration.

     

    • It will be able to be cooked in a creative and unique way.

     

    • Each meal will cost pennies.

     

    • It will contain little chemicals and preservatives since it will contain the basic food groups.

     

    STEP ONE: The Bombs fall

     

    The alarms sound. The bombs are coming. This is it.

    When crisis occurs — when something bad happens — we react. We get the people we care about to safety and we get out of danger. At that point we are focused on survival and protection and we will allow nothing to get in our way.

    Think of a time when a crisis unexpectedly occurred to you — the sudden death of someone close to you, a fire, a car accident, a layoff; any catastrophe that happened s quickly and without warning. When this happens — in the heat of the battle — were you thinking about food?

    You could be starving only a minute before the truck veers into your lane — thinking you can barely wait until you get to the drive thru — and then wham. Six hours later you remember that you haven’t eaten.

    What happens when you realize that you haven’t eaten? You are suddenly hungry again. Starving.

    How many times do you see photos of people outside of their burning building with a cheeseburger in their hands? Or being treated by paramedics as they grab the last of their fries? Never. Because at that point, food is not important. At all.

     

    • Make a list of ten (10) things you are worried about, trying to get to, concerned with or trying to achieve. These can be work goals, financial worries, family situations, or aspirations. When you have this list, keep it close to you; on your phone, in your bag — so you can get to it quickly, review, edit and add to it.

     

    • When between meal hunger hits, take thirty minutes — this will seem like a lot at first, but it will fly by later — and work only on this list. Make phone calls, contact whoever you need to, create options, but for thirty minutes you are only focusing on these bombs; these goals, these little issues that could become large, or these large issues that you have been avoiding.

     

    • Don’t set a timer — because you want to keep this flexible — and allow your focus to shift to what is truly important. But don’t stop until you have done at least one thing, one action, towards everything on that list.

     

    •  A few things are going to happen here. First, you are forcing yourself to see what is important, as well as what isn’t — getting food quickly into your mouth. The second is that you are reducing your appetite — which gives you freedom, which takes away the anxiety, which diffuses the food bomb.

     

    Now this goes directly against what many nutrition experts recommend — suggesting five or more little meals a day as opposed to three larger ones. But we’re not focused on nutrition, we are looking at why we do things. And the majority of time we overeat, we do it out of reflex or boredom.

    Sure there is the Thanksgiving dinner that we push ourselves back from the table and vow to never, ever eat again. But more often there are the dozens of times we finish an entire bag of potato chips in the car and not only don’t remember eating it, but are still hungry.

    We have made food important in our lives. We have made it more important than our families, than our homes, than our careers and then our goals. We need to analyze things every now and then, so we can prioritize.

     

    STEP TWO: Protein pack

     

    In a bomb shelter you will see a lot of rice, grains and pasta. That’s true. These are inexpensive, easy to store and last forever. But you will also see plenty of dried beans,   canned tuna and Salmon — because you need the protein. The starches are largely there to stretch out the meal — to make it last and to fill you up.

    Sugars and starches are cheap — that’s why they are in everything. These are the foods that stimulate insulin, which sends the signal to store fat in the body. The more starches and sugars you take in, the more fat that gets produced. And when insulin levels goes down — when we take in less sugars and starches — then more fat gets burned than is stored.

    The irony here is, sugars and starches make you hungry and proteins make you full. So you can actually eat less protein and feel better.

    We have bought into the fact that we need to stretch meals — to add in the majority of pasta, rice or grains to make it last. We feel like we are spending too much money if at least half of the meal isn’t a starch.

    So reverse the trend. Instead of the majority of the meal being starches or rice, make the majority of them the beans, eggs, fish or chicken. Eat more protein than you eat anything else.

     

    STEP THREE: Bomb shelters are for many

     

    The majority of time that we eat — we eat alone. Even if we’re in a separate room in a house full of people, we are still eating alone. And eating should always be a communal event.

    Add to that that we eat less — when we eat with others. European meals last for hours, with the majority of this time is spent laughing, visiting, talking and having fun. The smallest part is actually the eating part.

    So don’t eat alone. And I mean — ever.

    That may seem crazy, but think about it.

    If food goes back to being a communal event, something we do with others, then a major shift occurs. Instead of saying — what do I want to eat? We begin saying — who do I want to eat with?

    And remember, a meal is simply food shared with others. It doesn’t have to be a five course meal on Waterford china, it can be a few tuna sandwiches on paper plates.

    Take two weeks and vow to eat every single meal with someone else — and this includes eating in front of a TV alone, in your car alone, or picking out of a refrigerator alone.

    If you can’t find someone to share a meal with — then don’t eat until you do.

     

    STEP FOUR: Stock the bomb shelter

     

    When the bombs of life do fall — health issues, layoffs, downsizing, family crisis — having a stockpile of basic foods takes a financial and time burden off of you. For less than a hundred dollars, you can have a several months’ supply of dry goods stored and ready.

    The basics would include:

    • Dried beans — lots and lots of them. These are extremely inexpensive, easy to make and loaded with protein.

     

    • Canned tuna

     

    • Canned salmon

     

    • Canned chicken

     

    • Pasta

     

    • Rice

     

    • Cornmeal

     

    • Flour

     

    • Canned vegetables

     

    • Canned fruit

     

    Stock these things and leave them. Use them when the end of the month rolls around and you’re creeping up on your budget, or when the bombs fall.

     

    AND REMEMBER …

     

    A bomb shelter is a plan. This plan can take any form; a room, a group of people or an idea. But it’s a plan to give you freedom and allow you to think while the basics are taken care of.

    Food is not our bomb shelter.

    Food is just one of the many things we put in it.

  • Narcissus

    Narcissus

    boston

    For a few months, in 1985, Kirk and I were in Boston. Starving. Well, probably not medically starving, we did have the olives and slices of lemons we stole from the garnish tray whenever we could. Altogether, I’d say we ate every two or three days.

    When we first arrived in Beantown we were eating pretty regularly. This was partially due to the fact that YMCA on Huntington Avenue gave you a breakfast voucher to their cafeteria every day; one egg, any style, toast, and coffee. So every morning, with the $35 room that Kirk and I split, we ate. And it was a great beginning to the day. But you can only stay at the Y for two weeks so we had to move on. Later, when breakfast had to be removed from the budget, we would miss that voucher and would actually taunt each other with the chant — one egg —any style—toast and coffee.

    The shoeboxes of food my mom gave us at the Greyhound bus station in Oneonta, NY, oh man, they were long gone; the ham sandwiches on croissants, the plastic jugs of Kool-Aid, (frozen to keep them cold longer), the apples, the crackers, the pepperoni, the boiled eggs, the cottage cheese containers filled with macaroni salad. All gone.

    Now in Oneonta, yeah it was my idea to leave. I admit it. But it was Kirk’s idea to go to Boston.

    “I’m taking off,” I said as I looked out of his apartment window that looked down on Market Street. “Come with me.”

    “To Binghamton? Why?”

    “Because there’s nothing for me here and there’s nothing for you either.” I said. “C’mon, it’ll be a blast.”

    And I made it sound like the beginning of a film. As if we were two desperados. Two beaten men who would head out to make their fortunes and leave the place that had mocked them behind. Me? I was nursing a seriously broken heart and damaged ego and didn’t want to be around when school started back up again. And Kirk had flunked out last semester and couldn’t re-enroll until the spring semester anyway.

    “I’m taking a semester off. I’m leaving. So come with me.”

    “Maybe,” Kirk flipped the channels until he got to an episode of MASH. “But not to Binghamton. If we’re gonna go, let’s go.”

    And we toyed around with different locales. Chicago. Miami, we even thought of L.A. But once we landed on the idea of Boston, Kirk was sure that this was the place for us.

    “Boston?” I asked.

    “Yup. That’s where we need to go.”

    So, Boston it was.

    We had taken the seven-hour bus ride from Oneonta to Boston a week before, to scope everything out — to see how difficult jobs and apartments were to find — and by mid-morning of that very first day, at our very first interview, we both walked out with two jobs in our pockets. And not just any jobs; for two college kids from the sticks, they were dream jobs.

    Kenmore Square is the intersection of Beacon Street and Commonwealth Avenue and was the heart of Boston nightlife. It was behind Fenway Park and Boston University and Narcissus was a huge nightclub where students from Harvard and B.U. came to spend all their money. And Kirk and I were hired to be two of their newest employees.

    The place was huge and actually held three clubs in one: Narcissus, Celebration, and Lipstick. But Narcissus was the gleaming, Studio 54 jewel of the crown.

    Since it happened so quickly, Kirk and I went to the club that night to see if the crowds really did bring pockets full of tips for their favorite bartenders, as we were promised. And they were.

    “Well, my friend,” Kirk clinked his beer glass to mine and screamed over the sound of a thousand college kids. “We are gonna to be rich.”

    We were ecstatic. And as soon as we got back to Oneonta we tossed everything into a few bags and jumped the next bus to Boston.

    Finding an apartment was the first challenge. With all the fees added up between first and last month’s rent and the security deposit, we would need to come up with $3,200. Which we didn’t have.

    We were earning a little bit of money, but the challenge was that there was a pecking order at Narcissus and we had not earned the plum bartending slots yet. Because we worked during the day, Juno scheduled us for a lot of corporate parties and band things where we worked the service bar and our tips came from the waitresses who were supposed to give us a percentage. Which they never did.

    And because there were so many bartenders at Narcissus, if we worked a night, Kirk and I would come home with $35 to $45 each — hardly the $100 a night we were hoping for. The good news was that the work was easy and the place was completely mobbed; we only had a few feet of bar space to cover.

    Unfortunately, what money we were earning was going straight into Terry’s hand. He waited behind the door where we lived, and would pop out like a sentry as soon as our feet hit the wooden landing.

    “Well?” Terry scratched his chest through his Talking Heads t-shirt and held out hand — like we had tried to sneak out of a window a thousand times before this. And without words we’d hand over the forty bucks — or however close we could get to it. If Kirk and I were both working that night, our combined tips would make it with a few bucks to spare. But if just one of us was on that night, we’d be short, unless we saved from a night when we did both work.

    Forty dollars would get rid of Terry until the next day, since that’s how much the room cost per night. Thirty-five dollars would lead to a tirade on how he wasn’t a bank and we were the most worthless rags he’d ever met.

    I don’t know if rags was a Terry phrase or a Boston one, but he was the only one that we ever heard use it and he did so  often.

    By October we knew we had lost a lot of weight — each time we got dressed it seemed like we had shrunk a pant size — but when the junkies on Washington Street took interest in our new ultra-thin frames, probably thinking we might have a connection or a hit to share, we knew that food had to become a bigger priority.

    That’s why the envelope was such a big deal.

    The envelope — and I can still see it after all these years — Kirk had found on High Street. It was in the shape of a small paper rectangle and had Asian lettering on it and since we were pretty close to Chinatown, this made sense. Inside the envelope was a bright red foiled liner and a small card. The card had more lettering, stuff we couldn’t read, but inside of the card, pressed between the thick paper folds, were two crisp ten dollar bills.

    Kirk kept punching my shoulder. “We could of walked by it,” and he continued to punch me all the way to a Burger King, where we ordered two Whopper meals. We dove into the burgers and could only finish about half before our shrunken stomach’s gave in.

    “I know what’s for dinner,” Kirk smiled, as he wrapped his leftover sandwich back in the foil. And we sat there for a long time. Happy. Happy because not only did we have a meal, but we actually had the next one covered too.

    From the remaining money we bought crackers, peanut butter, and beef jerky — stuff we could easily hide from Terry, since food in the room was forbidden and he checked regularly.

    We had a certain routine, Kirk and I. Northeastern University had bought a huge apartment building near us and was converting it to dorms. We went exploring one day and found that the laundry room was never locked and within the room was an ironing board and iron. So every day that we had to work, we would stop there and iron our black pants and white shirt before getting on the train to Kenmore Square — we didn’t have an iron and had been yelled at a few times for coming in with wrinkled clothes.

    There was this very cute girl in the dorms with red hair that we would see every now and then. She never paid much attention to us but when Kirk went alone to iron his clothes, he would always come back telling me of how she stopped to talk to him and flirt. But then when we went back together, she ignored us again. Kirk was like that. The nights I didn’t work, he would come back with stories of how the owners would buy him shots and pretty bartenders would hit on him. And then when we worked together, we were invisible.

    That’s why the shooting probably didn’t happen. Looking back it doesn’t matter if it did, but it most likely was made up.

    It was the second week of November and I was off for the night but Kirk was working. He came home excited. He told about how there was a robbery and a guy shot one of the bartenders. Then the shooter came back behind the bar, robbed the cash register and then headed out — only to be shot by cops before he hit the street.

    The story probably didn’t happen. But I never had a chance to verify it. The shooting was my excuse. I was going back to New York.

    Kirk was sitting in the chair by the door as I threw my clothes into a bag. He looked at me with a mixture of fear and pain as I said goodbye. From Brookline, I walked to the bus station where I used my last $22 — my half of tomorrow’s rent — to get a ticket to Schenectady where a friend picked me up and took me the remaining two hours to my parents’ house.

    And I left Kirk there. Alone and broke in a city that didn’t want him.

    There are two kinds of bad decisions. There is the mistake. And there is the regret.

    A mistake is a miscalculation. An error. Bad data and bad calculations.

    But a regret is when a moral or ethical line has been crossed. When you have the chance to do the right thing and you don’t. And most regrets come from the wrong answer to one simple question. Do I stick, or do I run?

    A life filled with mistakes is not a bad life at all. It’s one of excitement and energy and fire. But one with regrets will weigh you down because regrets don’t have shelf lives and their backup batteries never run dry.

    I never saw Kirk again. I have no idea what happened to him, since I transferred to Cortland the next semester. I do know that he didn’t have any family — his mom had died when he was young and his father a few years after he graduated High School.

    So here is the question. How hard would it have been to get us both to my parents’ house? To get us both someplace safe until we figured out the next step? How difficult would it have been to have thought of my friend even a fraction of the amount that I thought of myself?

    Probably not very. It most likely would have taken the same energy it took to leave him behind.

    The irony that Narcissus is the Greek god of self-love, isn’t wasted here. And neither is the fact that I have very few good memories of Boston — most likely because it represents the ugly parts of myself that I want to forget. But I would like to think if this happened today, thirty years later, that the man I am now would react differently and show just a little bit of loyalty and grace.

    I’d like to think so. But I’ll never know.

    Because that’s why they call them regrets.

    http://www.thecrimson.com/article/1993/7/6/narcissus-fuit-or-the-death-of/

  • Thieves

    Thieves

    cross

    There was an article posted a few days ago about a church that had the sound equipment stolen for their big Sunrise Easter Service. This service is outside, is attended by over a thousand people and without that equipment there would be no way for the large crowd to hear the music or the pastor. They would have to cancel it. But what was interesting about the story was that when the church discovered the theft, they all got together, discussed what happened, and —  they prayed for the thieves. They forgave them. Then they rented sound equipment and the service went on as scheduled.

    Now, what’s even more fascinating about this story is when you look at it from a different angle — at the people who took the equipment — you can tell a few things about them. See, those thieves did not set out to be thieves. Absolutely not. They didn’t tell their Guidance Counselors that’s what they wanted to do. They didn’t set thief-goals. They didn’t dream about being the greatest thieves ever and they didn’t brag at High School reunions of how one day they would steal sound equipment from churches. It just happened. Stealing became the default. The fall back. And it happened for one simple reason.

    They got desperate.

    We know this as a fact. Because no one — and I mean, no one — steals for the sheer pleasure of it. The idea of the millionaire cat burglar taking jewels for the thrill of the challenge, is fiction. Because nobody has a great day stealing. No thief takes pride in their work. No thief feels good about what they do. They get desperate. Then they get stupid. In fact, every stupid thing we do, have done, and will ever do, is because we got desperate. Which means we got stupid. And then we say those words. I have no choice. We get in a corner and our options seem limited.

    Which is a lie. No matter what — every time — we always have options. We always have choices.

    Why do millions of people fall for internet and e-mail scams every year? That’s easy. Because they are so desperate that they need those cons to be true — wealthy people don’t fall for these things, desperate people do. They are in a dire need for money, their options seem limited and they think: if this were true, it would fix everything.  They switch off their  intelligence because they need it to be true. This has to work because — there is no other choice.

    And when you go even further, when you boil that desperation down what do you have? What is at the core of desperation?

    Fear.

    Desperation is the fear that the alternative, the next step, is so terrible that we have to do this horrible thing to make sure that the other horrible thing doesn’t happen.

    Stealing is less scary then going without that next fix or that next drink. Stealing is less risky than waking up and having to face the world clear headed. Taking this stuff is far less scary than having to face all the bad decisions we’ve made and take different route. So we cross that line. We pop open that church’s storage trailer and fueled by desperation we grab that sound equipment. And what happens then?

    Nothing. Nothing happens. We get that sound equipment and we get it to a pawn shop and we get the money. And when we wake up the next morning there aren’t people pounding on our door. We don’t hear sirens wailing towards us. The world doesn’t end. Nothing happened.

    Not to us anyway. But something always happens.

    Several years ago, my wife’s ninety year old grandmother had her house robbed while she was out. The thieves got away with two old televisions and some costume jewelry. Total take, around four hundred dollars.

    When Beulah — yes, that’s her real name — came home, she was shocked. She called the police and she called her family. A new lock was put on the house and a new television was purchased. But the story didn’t end there.

    Beulah couldn’t sleep after that. She was so worried about the thieves coming back that she became completely preoccupied with this idea. She stopped sleeping and eating altogether. She would call family all hours of the night and tell them that someone was upstairs. And one night a neighbor found Beulah in her driveway in just a nightgown, running from the house because she was convinced the thieves had come back for her.

    Beulah went into a nursing home shortly after that because she was couldn’t focus on anything other than the  thieves. And when she died a few years later she was still obsessed with that break in.

    Now, did those thieves kill Beulah?

    No. Probably not. But they did take the joy and security out of the few years that she had left. No doubt about that. And they did it for four hundred dollars.

    But the good thing for the thieves is, that they will never know that — that’s the only career advantage in being a thief. You steal, you run, you never have to look your victims in the eye and the consequences are kept far, far away from you.

    When we get desperate, we get stupid. We change. And we change the world around us. Every time.

    2,000 years ago two other thieves faced their own last hours on earth. They thought about their lives and they considered all that they had done.

    One became humble.

    And the other one remained desperate.

  • Homesteading

    Homesteading

    homestead

    There is a great quote by Robert Heinlein that goes, “Every generation thinks they invented sex.”

    Yup. We do. And not just sex, every generation thinks they were the first to discover — everything.

    We arrive in the world and we begin to see and experience. And when we see and experience it’s assumed that no one has seen or experienced before us. How could they? We just found out about it ourselves and since we’re the center of it all, how could anything of any importance have occurred before we got here? Or before it involved us?

    It can’t. And since it’s all new to us, therefore it’s all new.

    Makes sense. Except for the fact that — it’s all been done before. And just because we are now experiencing it, doesn’t make it new.

    “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” Ecclesiastes  1:9

    And there isn’t.

    With the exception of every generations new technological gizmos that are coming out, and will always be coming out, everything important has been done before.

    But this isn’t a bad thing.

    What is a bad thing is when we think that by just renaming it or repackaging it, that we get the discovery credits. Because there aren’t new discoveries, there are only new movements.

    Eating only what food that will go to waste if we don’t eat it, doesn’t get to be freeganism. It’s what people have been doing for centuries and do every day around the world.

    Making use of what materials you have, doesn’t get to be repurposing or even recycling; it’s just plain good sense and what’s been done since — forever.

    Now, there’s another new trend of an old idea that has popped up in the last few years that isn’t new at all, but is still pretty intriguing. And it’s the old concept of homesteading.

    The term homesteading is pretty commonly known and we all have a general idea of what that means. You go someplace where few people live and you live there and farm.

    Sort of.

    The true definition of the term homesteading has to do with subsistence farming or living a self-sufficient lifestyle — more modern terms for old ideas. But what makes this  modern trend and an interesting one is that there is now land out there that developers have no interest in — in every state, probably within two or three hours from where you are right now — that is dirt cheap.

    And I mean dirt cheap. In fact, for less than the cost of a big screen TV you can get a few acres of land — and some plots for even less than that.

    Now, these are homesteading lots — or undeveloped lots. Most don’t have power, or water or much of anything except the land itself. But they are cheap and they are plentiful.

    What is homesteading?

    The pure definition of homesteading dates back to the 1862 and the United States Homestead Act. It is the ability to establish a home in unsettled land and get everything you need from that land. You get your food from your garden, your fruit trees and your livestock. You get what currency you need in the sale of said items, by bartering or other means. You take care of the land and the land takes care of you.

    Now recently homesteading has been placed in a ultra-liberal almost radical box by using such terms as self-sufficiency and living off the grid. But the act of homesteading is simply taking responsibility for yourself through your land.

    Now the reason I’m bringing up all of this is not to promote the idea of homesteading. I think it’s a great concept for the right people but I also think it can be used as an  excuse to pull away from society and the neighbors that need you. So it’s two edged.

    But what I do want to promote — and think that this does apply to everyone — is that there is cheap land out there. It’s probably on a hill, covered in trees and probably will never see a power connection or a water line, but it’s affordable. And the thing about land is that they are not making any more of it.

    There is something in our core — and this goes back further than generations, it’s why our ancestors came here — about the need to own a piece of land. If you own your home that’s great, but it’s not land. It’s not a piece of the earth.

    For a few thousand bucks you can own a few acres of land. And if you only throw a tent there a few times a year, if you only go to it to show your friends, if you only build a shack or a cabin or an a-frame on it, it’s your land. And if you pay the few hundred dollars a year in taxes, it will be yours forever.

    That flat screen will be gone. That vacation will be distant memories. But your land will always be there.

    Your land.

  • 10 old technologies to never throw away

    10 old technologies to never throw away

    tv

    There is one thing about consumer technology that has always confused me. Let’s say you have a toaster. It’s a good toaster. It makes great toast. This toaster looks good on the counter, cleans easily and has been extremely reliable for all the years you’ve had it.

    Now let’s say that you just found out that the new toasters are being released. Your version is Toaster-6.0 and the new Toaster-7.0 are now out and being gobbled up as soon as they roll off the assembly line. If you don’t move fast, there won’t be any left.

    So you grab your wallet and run to the store — dropping that boat anchor of a toaster at the curb on the way out — to get your new, improved; Toaster-7.0. You stand in line as they count off how many toasters are left. You wait and —. You make it. You get the new toaster.

    Whew, that was close. And you get home and display the new toaster on the counter proudly.

    Now, as goofy as that sounds, we are actually doing this to items like toasters — not as rapidly as we do cell phones, but that’s the danger in it. It’s more subtle. More gentle of an erosion. And then one day we wake up and we miss our old toaster because this is the third toaster we’ve had since we’ve tossed it.

    So here are the ten old technology devices that fit in that category. Here are the ten items we should never throw out.

    10. Old cast iron

    Yes, you can still buy cast new iron pots and pans. Sure. But it’s pricy and is not as durable as the old stuff. And the thing about cast iron is that it never, ever dies. You can find a cast iron frying pan in a garage sale that is rusty and flaking and looks like it has been through three wars. And within a week you can have it cleaned up, seasoned and ready for eggs on the campfire. These things are great and should be held on to forever.

     

     

     

    9. Battery operated radios

    In our world of cellular access to everything, battery operated radios are becoming harder and harder to find. But that old boom box in the garage will come in pretty handy if you loose power and cell coverage. These are worth keeping — and keep the batteries out of them so they don’t corrode.

     

     

     

     

     

    8. Coffee pots

    Not coffee makers, but coffee pots, are becoming very rare. If you have one, keep it. If you don’t have one, get one — and I’m not talking about the fancy forty-dollar camping pot, I mean a real stainless steel coffee pot. It will cost you about ten bucks and since it has very few moving parts it will last forever. These are great for camping and fishing trips, if the power goes out, or just when you want to control how strong your coffee is.

     

     

     

     

    7. Metal coffee cans

    These are becoming harder and harder to find since most mainstream coffee comes in plastic containers. But if you have the old metal ones, keep them and use them. Display them proudly because they have hundreds of uses.

     

     

     

     

     

     

    6. Old landline phones

    Again, if you lose power, an old landline phone — one that you can plug into the phone line and doesn’t require power — is a pretty handy thing to have. Keep at least one in your house.

     

     

     

     

     

    5. Old metal fans

    It’s probably too late for these beauties because they have moved from the hard to find to the collectable. But if you find an old metal fan, grab it. They last forever and the motors are much larger than the modern plastic versions.

     

     

     

     

     

     

    4. Turn tables/tape decks 

    Sometime in your life you will come across a collection of cassette tapes from your talent show in 1970 or some of Uncle Walters old 45’s. You’ll need something to play these on. If you have one, display it and use it.

     

     

     

     

     

    3. Small appliances build before 1970

    In my house, I have the milkshake maker from my parents diner in 1956. Besides the constant use it took then, it has been used for decades and still makes amazing milkshakes. These old appliances were replaced by lower quality versions and the old ones will last forever and when they are gone, they are gone.

     

     

     

    2. Old Mason Jars

    You can buy mason jars anywhere but the new design are thinner glass, cheaper fittings and aren’t designed to last as long. If you come across some of the thick old Mason Jars, grab them. They can be used for a thousand different things and they just aren’t making them any more.

     

     

     

     

    1. Metal fishing reels

    I am still in mourning over giving my brother-in-law my old Mitchel 300 fishing reel when I got my new shiny plastic one years ago. He still has mine and I am four reels down the road. The old metal reels last forever, are rugged and can take a beating.

  • How to remove a tick

    How to remove a tick

    tick

    My son Alex is a bonafide tick magnet — not a chick magnet, but a tick one; which at 17 years old is strangely not as cool.

    I’ve never seen anything like it. This kid excretes some sort of tick pheromone, a disco ball for parasites, because not only when we go into the woods does he come out with new colonies of ticks that are settling in and designing the city center, but even if he walks across a lawn or the grassy part of a parking lot he often gets a few hitchhikers — and this is where the outlying ticks are, the ones that have been banned from the forests and when they see Alex coming they sing songs and hold each other as they wait for their salvation to arrive.

    In fact, when Alex, our dog Riley, and myself are in the woods, Alex will come out with ticks. When it’s just Riley and myself, Riley will. So according to this highly scientific evidence, if given the chance. ticks prefer to risk the larger target of Alex — even though their chance of success is far less — then shoot for the shorter and easier one of Riley the dog.

    It’s very weird.

    WHAT IS A TICK?

    So, a tick is a type of mite that falls in the external parasites category. They attach to animals —mammals and birds but will also go after reptiles and amphibians as well — and live off the blood. They burrow their mouths under the skin and start drinking.

    Now the challenge with ticks is unlike mosquitos, who take a big drink and leave, ticks are in for the long hall. Once they have found The Promised Land they have their mail forwarded and take up residency. And the longer they are there, the fatter they get off the hosts stolen blood and the harder they are to get rid of.

    The most common ticks in North America are the deer ticks and the dog tick — which look very much alike

    Besides being unwanted, ugly, a thief, and just plain gross, the other concern with ticks is that some carry disease. These include Colorado Tick Fever, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and of course, Lyme Disease. But if you’ve come out of the woods with a few ticks don’t automatically think you’ve been exposed. Even though only a few types of ticks are capable of spreading the diseases it also depends upon the geographic location, the season of the year, the type of tick and how long it was attached.

    In fact, even if a tick that carries a disease has attached to you and even fed, the chance of infecting are still very low. For example, the deer tick that transmits Lyme Disease must feed for more than 36 hours before it can pass on the disease and most ticks are found within a few hours.

    But if you are an overly cautions individual and want to make sure that no disease was transmitted from a tick bite, can you get a blood test to determine this? No. Even if you were infected signs in your blood will not show up for two to six weeks later. But, as  long as you catch that tick before it’s been on you for three days, the odds are very high that no disease has been passed.

    TICK REPELLENT

    So a good offense is a strong defense. True. And the best defense against ticks are through your clothing. Commercial bug spray that you apply to your skin tries to be everything to everyone and also wears off. The best tick defense is to use a Permethrin based products that you apply to your clothes. Permethrin is a synthetic chemical found in insect repellent and there are many tick repellents made with Permethrin but the best one I’ve seen is made by a company called Sawyer that has a Duranon Permethrin spray for the deep woods. This stuff is amazing and I’ve been in the woods and watched ticks crawl on my clothes and die before they got to me.

    HOW TO REMOVE A TICK

    First, what not to do.

    When I was a kid there were dozens of folk-treatments that were used to remove ticks — many of which, we know now, not to do. The most common is to irritate the tick into removing itself and you do this by lighting a match, blowing it out and holding the hot match head behind the tick. Or putting fingernail polish. kerosene, Vaseline or dish soap on the end of the tick. The idea is that the tick will pull out of the skin to get away from the heat or the chemical burn.

    Don’t do this.

    Yes, it’s possible that the tick might actually pull out of the skin. Maybe. But in panic the tick is more likely to inject its bodily fluids before escaping — fluids that would include any disease it might be carrying. And that would be a bad thing.

    The best way to get rid of a tick is the tride-and-true, tweezer method — this is why it’s great to carry a small first aid kit or 48 hour kit on you in the woods — an easy one can be made from an Altoids tin and kept in your pocket.

    The tweezer method:

    1. With a pair of tweezers, as close your skin and its mouth as you can.

    2. Pull slowly back using steady and even pressure — don’t twist. And don’t squeeze the body as this can send the body fluids into the skin.

    3. If the whole tick came out, great. If not, leave the part that is still in the skin alone. If you try to go after that part you could irritate the skin even more and possibly cause an infection. Your body will eventually reject it.

    4. Clean and treat the area.

  • The midlife review

    The midlife review

    review

    It has been fifty years,

    Well, no — that’s not true.

    Once you carry the seven,

    It’s been fifty-two.

    And in fifty-two years,

    No vast rise, or succumb.

    Slower than many,

    But brighter than some.

    _____

    So now, halfway through,

    Time, the older man’s chore.

    To weigh and assess,

    All I need answer for.

    Not a trial, inquisition,

    Or a stern talking to.

    But a chance to appraise,

    It’s my midlife review.

    _____

    So I found a nice tie,

    A clean shirt and a coat.

    And I drove to the place,

    Spelled out there on the note.

    To a part of the city,

    Not been to before.

    I walked to the building,

    And right through the door.

    _____

    Once inside the office,

    I strode down the aisle.

    Where a man at a desk,

    Sat there reading my file.

    He stood and bowed, hi,

    Rolled to me, a chair.

    Walls the photos of all,

    Those before me, hung there.

    _____

    Then he spoke with a smile,

    Well, I’ve good news to tell.

    On your choice of a spouse,

    You did quite very well.

    She is loving, supportive,

    And in church, volunteers.

    Did not kill you, not once

    In all twenty-three years.

    _____

    Then stirring through papers,

    To find the right page.

    On your kids, here again,

    Mostly high marks to gauge.

    Sons are happy and strong,

    Tender hearts they have grown.

    Both to soon make their marks,

    They can think on their own.

    _____

    But now, that part over,

    Smile fading from face.

    He shuffled the papers,

    Let’s back to your case.

    In the asset department,

    You must surely know.

    That your financial levels,

    Are shockingly low.

    _____

    I smirked and replied,

    Mine, more lofty pursuit.

    Don’t you know that with evil,

    It’s money at root?

    As you see, it’s my family,

    The center for me.

    Not the stocking of wealth,

    Here in this life, agree?

    _____

    Then he took off his glasses,

    He then rubbed his nose.

    I think there confusion,

    We should here dispose.

    See, the standard for this life,

    Not to wealth be driven.

    But be the good stewards,

    Of all we’ve been given.

    _____

    And I see by these files,

    That you’ve wasted a lot.

    Some, they make more of,

    But time — they do not.

    So the question remains,

    Although here not bereft.

    Now what will you do,

    With the twenty years left?

    _____

    Just twenty? I mocked,

    That seems a bit lean.

    Well, he said, rounding,

    It’s more like eight-teen.

    You will die on a Wednesday,

    The fifteenth of May.

    Which is eight-teen years,

    One month, from today.

    _____

    What? I said, shocked,

    As I let this sink in.

    I know, this news hard,

    But we must now begin.

    You need to make plans,

    To ponder in thought.

    So what will you do,

    With the years you still got?

    _____

    And I sat in that chair,

    With my heart in a twist.

    ‘till I finally did speak,

    Well, I do have a list.

    But before I could finish,

    He stopped me there, true.

    This gift you’ve received,

    It’s not about you.

    _____

    You’ve been handed this grant,

    Not to ski down a slope.

    Not to climb up a mountain,

    Or zip down a rope.

    You came into this world,

    With nothing you own.

    And all that you have,

    Is simply on loan.

    _____

    And soon on a day,

    Eight-teen years from now.

    You will stand before Him,

    To answer your vow.

    And when that linking,

    From this world is free.

    What for the kingdom

    Did you do for me?

    _____

    He handed me pamphlets,

    And wished me good luck.

    And I dazedly shuffled,

    Right back to my truck.

    And I sat there inside.

    Letting set that review.

    So little time,

    And so much to do.

  • The 10 films that every man needs to see before he dies

    The 10 films that every man needs to see before he dies

    film

    There are great films and then there are great guy films — and I’m not referring to movies that have that all important catch phrase or the chase scene of the Corvette down the escalator that you will be a social misfit for having not seen. But great films — movies that make us think and feel while remaining a pure guy film.

     

    10. THE LONGEST YARD. (1974).

    Of course I am not referring to the 1974 Burt Reynolds film not the Adam Sandler version — which I’ve never seen. The Longest Yard is just a great all around guy film and although the plot seems a little thin — NFL quarterback goes to prison and is forced to lead the ‘cons vs guards’ football game — the movie has intensity, excitement, humor and is one of those films that gets under your skin and stays there. In Burt Reynolds long career he has only made two great films — Boogie Nights and The Longest Yard.

     

    9. SLING BLADE. (1996).

    Although there are moments of acting and dialogue in Sling Blade that still make my cringe, the characters are so strong that you really don’t care — in fact the first ten minutes of Sling Blade are probably the best dialogue ever written for film. A great guy movie.

     

    8. ARMAGEDDON. (1998).

    Okay, hear me out on this one. Armageddon is not only a great action film but is practically a blue collar opera. The idea of the world being saved by finding the best deep core drillers, is right up there with needing to find the best dry-wallers or small engine repair guys. The writing is solid, the story is strong and the acting top notch. A great movie.

     

    7. THE FULL MONTY. (1997).

    If you had asked me if I wanted to see a film about a group of down on their luck blue-collar English guys who decide to become exotic dancers to pay their bills, I would not have rushed to the ticket counter. But The Full Monty is one of the greatest guy films ever made. There is not a character in the film that you don’t care about and the movie is emotional, real and powerful. You’ve got to see this one.

     

    6. SEVEN SAMURAI. (1954).

    Although I’m not a big fan of subtitles, you need to see the subtitled version of Seven Samurai to appreciate this film. Seven Samuria is a story of 1587 Japan when the feudal system is fading and the once and powerful Samurai are  now unemployed. Seven of these men join forces to protect a town against marauders because, well, they have nothing else to do and in effect create a great friendship. This is an amazing film and was the basis of John Sturges; The Magnificent Seven. You’ve got to see it.

    [amazon asin=B000I9UA8U&template=iframe image][amazon asin=B007QJB8LI&template=iframe image][amazon asin=B000NTPDSW&template=iframe image][amazon asin=B00DQJPIO0&template=iframe image]

    5. THE STING. (1973).

    The Sting is the con artist move to which all other con films are judged. It’s a great film and a great story and keep you guessing all the way to the very end — when you’re still not exactly sure the ride is over. This is one of the top ten American Films of all time.

     

    4. RAIN MAN. (1988).

    Although I am not a big Tom Cruise fan, Rain Man is one of the greatest films ever made; a true road film that documents the relationship of a twenty-something, self involved man and his estranged older brother — it also is an interesting example of what the motion picture industry thinks of men as this film was almost not made because the producers didn’t believe men would watch any film without a chase scene.

     

    3. THE GODFATHER. (1972).

    Although Goodfella’s is an amazing film, The Godfather still remains the big daddy of mob films — and of motion pictures in general. It’s an epic story of the rise of an Italian Mafia family. An incredible movie that has influenced American culture and for those thirty or so men in the US who have never seen the Godfather – go see it.

     

    2. ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST. (1975).

    One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is not only Jack Nicholson at his very best, but it’s also one of those rare occasions where a film is actually better than the book. This movie launched many careers and is an incredibly powerful story that doesn’t stop until the credits roll. You only need to see this film once and you will remember every second of it.

     

    1. SAVING PRIVATE RYAN. (1998).

    Not only is Saving Private Ryan the greatest World War II film ever made, it is also one of the greatest American film’s ever made — one of the reasons I stopped watching the Oscar’s was when Shakespeare in Love beat this film out for best picture. Are you kidding me?

    If you have never seen Saving Private Ryan, stop what you’re doing and see it right now.

  • How to plan a family reunion

    How to plan a family reunion

    reunion

    When it comes to how men view family gatherings — specifically, how men view extended family gatherings — there are three common stages that we pass through.

    First, we have the carefree days of youth; stage one. This stage runs from birth to sometime in our teenaged years. This is when we are excited to be part of this distinctive, kinetic family group and we look forward to each and every time all the aunts and cousins gather. These are the times when the best possible place to be, is right next to Uncle Don when he tells the boomerang story, or be at bat just before Amy; because she has a wicked cleanup swing. This is the time period when all your grandfather’s jokes are hysterical and all your aunts are beautiful. And the absolute saddest part of the day, the only bleak aspect, is when the cars begin to pull out of the driveway. And when all the cousins are gone.

    Then we move to stage two. These are the dark days and run from our teenaged years to sometime in our late twenties to early thirties. These are the thin skinned, chip on our shoulder, lots to prove and little show for it, angry days. When we grit our teeth every time Uncle Mike asks us how long we’re going to keep this job. This is when Vick and the other cousins smirk when we talk about our multi-level marketing plans — right before they ask how long it’s been since Jennifer dumped us. And even though she didn’t dump us, it was mutual, we watch the clock and cannot wait for everyone to leave — so we can catch our dad alone and discretely ask if he can help with part of this month’s rent.

    Then comes the third and final stage. The best stage. The last stage. Stage three. This occurs from your late thirties on until you die. This is when we show up for family gatherings in that twelve year old car — and are actually proud of it because it runs and is paid for. This is when your uncle challenges you to an arm wrestling match and you let him win. This is the time when you want to listen to the stories so much more than you want to tell any. These are the days when humility and pride both exist together and where you bounce your child on your leg and give a secret look to your cousins as your nephew describes how he’s going to make an absolute killing in real estate. These are the days you’ll enjoy the most and these are the times when you will work the hardest to keep the extended family together.

    Which means continuing, or beginning, those family reunions.

    HOW TO PLAN A FAMILY REUNION

    It’s a good idea to plan a reunion four to six months out — this gets the event on everyone’s calendar and locks everything in. It also gives you half a year to organize everything and work it.

    6 Months Before

    • Choose a date — check with folks that are traveling the longest distance and make sure it fits their schedules as they are making the biggest sacrifice.
    • Choose a length of time — is this over a Saturday afternoon or an entire weekend?
    • Choose a general location.
    • If over 50 people, create a reunion committee — determine person in charge of finance, food, entertainment, clean up, lodging, etc.

    4 Months Before

    • Lock in your location — if it’s a park or outdoor event, reserve the pavilion or fields if needed. If it’s inside, give the deposit needed or reserve the spot, etc.
    • Plan the menu — create the food assigning dishes and other food items to each family. Arranging for extra cooking and/or grilling facilities. Or finding a caterer.
    • Create a schedule — determine activities and entertainment, is there going to be a family softball game or contests. When do you want to schedule this?
    • Build in family history portion — start doing some research on the family tree or a huge white board/chalkboard is great for everyone to build a family tree together.
    • Photography and/or video — with everyone carrying cameras on their phones, hiring a photographer or videographer may not be necessary, but what will be is to find a place to store all those images and video. Create a reunion Facebook page or website where everyone can dump all the pictures taken — you can use this in the organization end as well to post updates and schedule.
    • Marketing — are you going to create postcards for the event or design t-shirts? Now is the time to plan those.

    3 Months Before

    • Finance — if large, determine cost per person.
    • Send out invitations — include times, locations, schedule, maps and costs or side dishes that need to be brought.
    • Committee sign ups — depending on the size there will be needs in each area. This is the time to get people to sign up for; set up teams, cooking committees, entertainment teams, etc.
    • Reserve items — do you need to rent a tent, chairs, portable grill? This is the time to reserve all of that stuff.

    2 Months Before

    • Create a stocking location — you’ll need a place to begin to store things.
    • Make nonperishable purchases — order the cups, table cloths, condiments, craft items, decorations, etc.
    • Send out e-mail or social network posts to keep the momentum going and stay on everyone’s thoughts
    • Arrange/place deposits on large food items — will you need 200 pounds of burgers? Now is the time to arrange this and to shop around for the best price.

    1 Month Before

    • Confirm, confirm, confirm — with family on food items, with reservations and with lodging.

    2 Weeks Before

    • Contact restaurants with a final guest count if necessary.
    • Contact volunteers with specific tasks to confirm times, locations, and the final guest count.
    • Review your final to-do list.
    • Buy last-minute decorations and supplies.
    • Create signs and banners.

    2 Days Before

    • Review reunion minutiae with committees.
    • Pick up any rental equipment — chairs, tables, grills, etc.
    • Prepare final payments and tips

    The Day Before

    • Set up and decorate.
    • Sleep.