Why Time Moves Faster Than It Used To

As I get older I get the feeling that time is moving by much faster than it did when I was younger. As a child for example, I always thought that the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas morning was the equivalent of the entire time I had been alive up to that point. And Christmas Eve was always the longest night of the year!
Remember when summer lasted forever? Nowadays summer feels like a long weekend. The time between Memorial Day and Labor Day, once a sweet eternity, is now a madcap rush, not unlike the feeling one gets while racing down the freeway to the airport. With one eye on the road the other looking for state troopers, your hope fades that you will ever make the last flight home on a Friday evening. And so it is with summer. Why does time seem to go by so much faster now? Some say it’s because we are much busier than our ancestors ever were. No doubt farmers living in the pre-industrial age, tilling their fields with a horse drawn plow had loads of time to spare. Imagine how much time housewives had on their hands in the days before dishwashers, washing machines, dryers and microwaves. Yeah, leisurely lives they led. They had it made.
There are some theories floating in cyberspace about the likelihood that time is actually speeding up. One theory suggests that something called the Schumann Resonance or heartbeat of Earth used to be 7.83 cycles per second. Apparently it’s been rising since 1980. It is now over 12 cycles per second, leaving us with the equivalent of about 16 hours per day instead of 24. Note to theorists: The missing 8 hours might be the ones that occur while you’re sleeping which would make them hard to track. The more I dig into the “Schumann Resonance” though, the more convinced I am that it has merit in at least one respect. A smart candidate for the Presidency could score serious points making 24 hours an issue. Promising to restore time to its original and rightful place in our system of government could win votes, no? Republican candidates can assign blame to the Carter Administration by suggesting that he wasted so much time that time itself started to slip away. A wily Democrat like President Obama could point to The Resonance as what the so-called Reagan revolution was really all about.
But I digress.
The fact is that man came up with the concept of time. It was man who decided that 60 seconds equals a minute and 60 minutes equals an hour. These units still exist and can be measured.
So why do we feel like time is going by faster than it used to? I am pleased to report that yesterday, December 28, 2011, I found the answer. I was shopping in a Target store in Franklin, Tennessee. As I meandered through the aisles, I happened upon a row of Hallmark and other greeting cards six feet high and fifteen feet long. Remember the date, December 28th, still 3 days before New Year’s Eve and just 3 days after Christmas. Now which greeting cards do you think I saw completely dominating the racks? If you said Valentine’s Day cards treat yourself to a Be Mine candy heart. Valentine’s Day is seven weeks away! Yet, by the time it arrives we will have been completely inundated by retail displays, advertisements and junk mail from jewelers reminding us to buy something special for that someone special in our lives. What galls me is that by the time the day arrives, by no later than 6:00 p.m. on the day itself, retailers will be restocking their shelves with St. Patrick’s Day paraphernalia.
No wonder time seems to fly by. Living in the present these days is hard work. We are always being pushed ahead to the next holiday, the next season. Does rushing each holiday really work? Is anyone reading this post ready to forget the Christmas or Hanukkah holidays? It occurs to me that I’m asking a foolish question since the business version of the Christmas season now lasts so long that one is tempted to not bother taking down the tree at all. Still are you actually ready to focus on Valentine’s Day? If you have already bought your Valentine’s Day cards, have you also mailed them? Please let me know. And while you’re at it, send me your menu for the 4th of July barbecue.

Copyright 2011, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.

A Christmas Tradition Gone Wrong

I got my Christmas shopping done early this year. I even wrapped my gifts. Judging by the heavy traffic I see near the mall, I should be feeling pretty good about not procrastinating this year. Truth be told though, I miss the hustle and bustle, mingling with the crowds, the touch of nippy weather and the devilish excitement of being the guy who got the last Xbox 360.
Christmas shopping is a chore for most of us but there is a touch of romance in the delicate art of finding something unique, desirable, and affordable for that someone special. Yes, there aren’t enough good parking spaces and by the time the Holidays arrive, thanks to retailers’ penchant for starting the season just after Memorial Day, we’re tired of Christmas decorations and Christmas music.
Nowadays you can do all of your Christmas shopping on line without even leaving the house once! It certainly has changed Christmas shopping hasn’t it? What with shipping though, you can’t wait until the last minute to shop. I waited until the very last minute one year. I decided to do all my Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. Ed McMahon, Johnny Carson’s sidekick on the Tonight Show, told Johnny that doing all his shopping on Christmas Eve was one of his favorite Christmas traditions. If it was good enough for Ed, wasn’t it good enough for Len? So I waited. Black Friday came and went, the short daylight days of December quickly rolled by. Of course my wife, being so much smarter than I am, got the shopping done for the kids early. She shopped for me too. I’m sure she tried to reason with me. After all, she would be the one receiving the gifts I found during my magical mystery Christmas Eve shopping tour. Regardless, I was determined to give Ed’s tradition a go.
On the afternoon of December 24th I set out for the mall. It was a bitter cold day, some scattered snow flurries made the roads just a bit slick. As I recall, parking was a problem. After circling the parking lot for an hour, I found a space about 20 miles from the mall. The stiff wind blowing in my face probably made the walk to the mall seem longer.
I knew the mall would be crowded but I have to say I never guessed that a huge mall, complete with three anchor stores, could be so jammed packed with people. If you’ve ever been sandwiched into a telephone booth trying to break the record for the Guinness Book, you’ll know exactly how I felt.
I was on a tight budget but I was determined to find something special, something that had somehow escaped the eyes of the teeming hordes of desperate shoppers. I inched my way to a discount women’s clothing shop and started going through the racks of clothing. I felt a surge of excitement when I snatched the perfect skirt and blouse combination just as a girl who looked to be about 14 reached for it. I waited in line for an hour and a half to pay for my lucky find. When I finally got to the register though, I noticed that the woman behind the counter was giving me a funny look. She said, “Is this supposed to go together?” It was then that I noticed that the blouse was orange with white polka dots and the skirt was rainbow stripes. It didn’t matter. Surely my wife would love this symbol of my adventurous spirit.
I was able to get a few other items on my list including a calendar, something my wife asks for every year to this day. Usually the theme would be the works of an artist like Renoir.
There wasn’t anything quite like that left so my wife’s calendar that year had a spectacular, full color, chicks on a Harley theme.
Exhausted, I finally finished my shopping at 8 o’clock. As I stepped out of the warm confines of the mall and into the frigid, as in single digit, night air, it suddenly occurred to me. I still had to wrap all these gifts. By the time I got home in my unheated Chevette, would I still be able to feel my fingers?
As I sat on my living room floor just a few hours before dawn, wrapping the last gift with the only thing I could find, a brown grocery store bag, I watched a Tonight Show rerun. And I had a revelation of sorts. Ed McMahon could do all his shopping on Christmas Eve for two reasons. He wasn’t living on a budget. The limo he rode in was nice and warm.

Copyright 2011 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.

An Average American Citizen for President

Suppose an average citizen decided to run for President of the United States. Could he or she win? Conventional wisdom says surely not! How could an average citizen raise enough money to buy votes for example? And without proper schooling in the political arena how in the world would our everyday candidate know how or when to utilize spin, the most important political skill of all? Can you imagine this poor guy being quizzed by a moderator like Wolf Blitzer during a nationally televised debate?
Still, looking at the crop of Republicans seeking the highest office in the land and lamenting over the guy who sits in the Oval Office now, how wrong could we go by plucking an average Joe or Jane out of the ranks and giving them a chance to compete in the contest to rule the free world?
Are you thinking, “Yeah, he’s right! Why not me? Indeed, why not you? Permit me to offer you some advice, no charge. In fact, to spur you on, here are several mini position papers written by an average American citizen for the average American candidate.

The Deficit
I know it sounds like a tough one but it isn’t really. We need to spend less money, a lot less. And we need more revenue. The problem is that Americans simply aren’t willing to pay more taxes until we are satisfied that government spending is under control. And we don’t want entitlements touched. So, your position, should you decide to run is simple: We will cut spending by 5% in all areas except entitlements. Government will keep doubling the amount cut every year until the American people tell you not only to stop cutting, but beg you to raise their taxes. My guess is that moment will occur in 2018, when Mexico and Canada, notice that our military has shrunk to the size of the Taiwanese army in the 1950s under Chiang Kai-shek. They will form an alliance and threaten to cross the Rio Grande and the Great Lakes, an invasion the likes of which hasn’t been seen since D-Day.

Abortion
This is a tough one. As far as I can tell, the time worn stance that you are personally opposed but feel you must defend the law of the land is, well…time worn. The news isn’t all bad though. The American people are so used to flip-flopping that you could probably call yourself the founder of the Flip-flop Party and garner a ton of votes. So, what you should do is say that in the interest of fairness you will be pro choice on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. You’ll be pro life on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Trust me: The media will be interested in just one thing. What is your Sunday position? MSNBC and Fox News will speculate endlessly. Under no circumstances are you to give away your position until you have written a quickie book on the topic and hawked it on Rachel Maddow’s show. Once you’ve milked that for all its worth, then give it to them straight. On Sundays you review the polls to see which days your standing in the polls rises or falls. Obviously you plan to be in favor of the position that gets you the most voter support. It’s perfect for O’Reilly’s No Spin Zone.

Foreign Policy
Frankly, as an average citizen it’s even money you’ve never been in another country unless you count California. Not to worry though. Your common sense approach will actually help to reduce the deficit! Here’s how: Reinstitute the draft. That will put a quick end to wars of adventurism. By re-instituting the draft, future Presidents will think twice before committing troops for years on end. Now the beauty of your plan is that the draft ONLY applies to people earning more than $250,000 a year. And here’s the catch. They can buy their way out. No, it’s not a tax; to borrow a quote from 41, “read my lips. No new taxes.” Regardless, our nation’s treasury will be swimming in cash. What about foreign aid? Again simplicity rules: Any country that accepts our money is an ally of the United States. You’ll need to clearly define the term ally. A litmus test is in order. Here’s the only question you need ask the leader of a country looking for dough. Will that country welcome the American Idol tour next summer? Not interested unless they bring Paula Abdul back? No aid for you.

Should you decide to go forward with your plan to run in 2012, please don’t forget me. Wait till you hear my plans for education and job growth.

A Way Out of Debt for the USA

I am happy to have read some very good news today. I needed it. I’ve been reading That Used to be Us by Tom Friedman and Michael Mandelbaum, a depressing and I’m afraid mostly accurate explanation of what is wrong with the good old USA. According to authors Friedman and Mandelbaum, a great deal of what’s wrong with us is that we are so deep in hoc that we are paralyzed. We can’t fix our infrastructure. We can’t improve the quality of education. We can’t even afford another war against a tiny country.
Then this afternoon I picked up this month’s AARP Bulletin and saw 5 ways Americans can help trim the national deficit. Never mind ways one through four. It’s the fifth step that made me jump for joy. Ready? “Give Uncle Sam a Gift.” That’s right, make a taxpayer gift to the US Treasury. Before you say, “Don’t be ridiculous Len! Who would ever do such a thing?”
Listen: According to the AARP article, taxpayers have already given the US Treasury $2,429,800.03 in gifts this year. (Would someone please make a Freedom of Information Act request to find out who gave the 3 cents?) So why is this good news anyway? It’s very simple. If enough of us give money to the Federal Government, we can solve the debt crisis. In fact, if every man, woman and child gives just $46,666.67 to Uncle Sam, our deficit would be zero. Imagine that! Free and clear! USA! USA! USA! Based on what’s been done already, 52 Americans have already ponied up. Who’s next?
Of course I realize it’s not entirely realistic to expect every man, woman and child to fork over that much money all at once. Take my daughter’s family of seven for instance. They would have to come up with almost $327,000 to do their part. With 5 growing children, their annual grocery bill is higher than that. And let’s face it, not eating for a year is improbable. Trust me, my grandson would rebel. Not to worry. There is another way for us to get this very important job done. If we can pull it off, historians will forever more consider us an all star, triple-crown, greatest generation. Not as great as The Greatest Generation but nothing to sneeze at. Here’s the plan. What if every American, including those of us who may be here illegally, promises to send $1.00 a week to the treasury? With 300 million of us we’ll have our national debt paid off in just under 90 years. It sounds like a long time considering it only took us about twenty years to dig this hole. But think of it this way. If you’re reading this the chances are excellent that you won’t be here for the last 45 years anyway. So it’s not really that long.
One thing I am a bit worried about is that we could wind up with something that looks sort of like Social Security in reverse. After all if we make a promise to the Treasury department they will surely depend on it. What happens if some of us start buying too many café lattes? Suppose some of us decide to get that pricey navigation system in our next new car? Will we find ourselves having to borrow to live up to our commitments? Will the nice people running the treasury begin to feel insecure as people start blogging that they might have to renege on their promise or reduce the size of their contributions? That would mean stretching out the payoff date well beyond the 90 years. I wonder, could the treasury plan for the future in that kind of environment?

Shredagavis Frankie

Frank was a very close friend of mine. We met when we were in our late teens while forming a fraternity on the Rutgers University, Newark campus. We remained close until his death just two weeks ago. We spent many, many hours together at a time in life when boys are struggling with the transition into manhood. After we graduated from college we worked together for a while, we took a few graduate school courses and even attended real estate school, pretending to be serious yet well aware we were still struggling to find our way.
He was the best man in my wedding and the Godfather to my daughter. I am Godfather to his older daughter. In my late twenties I moved away from the places where we spent so much time together, heading to a small town in southern New Jersey. Eighteen years later I moved even farther away to Tennessee. We didn’t see each other very much once I moved away but we stayed in touch on a regular basis. Frank married a good woman and went on to a successful career in sales. Toward the end of his career he taught autistic children which he loved. He played golf when he could and he followed the Yankees the way some men track the Dow Jones. He had his demons and while it’s probably fair to say they got the better of him more often than not, they never defined him.
Now that he’s gone I realize that one of the great conceits of post modern man is the conviction that we have plenty of time later to catch up on the things that matter most, like family and friendships. Then we are shocked when we discover that neither the calendar, nor the actuarial tables are actual promises of anything.
When he was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis three years ago I understood immediately that Frank, then 59, probably would not reach the average life expectancy, you know, the 80 years we all secretly assume is guaranteed. I was heartbroken.
As his illness got worse, I managed to fly to New Jersey a few times and we talked nearly every day on the phone, right up until an hour before he died. Fortunately he had friends living close by and some of them found the time to call or visit, doing what they could to keep his spirits up. Paul, another fraternity brother, also spoke to Frank daily and made frequent visits to see him. He helped him get the things done Frank could no longer do for himself, filling in around the edges for Frank’s family. Paul got him out of the house and above all, listened to him, often demonstrating a saint’s patience as he tried to reason with a man who was rapidly losing the capacity to reason.
Frank became increasingly agitated, often obsessing over what would appear to observers as inconsequential. His behavior was typical of people suffering from that miserable disease. As each breath became harder to draw, he was forced to stand (sit or lie really) helpless as his independence drained away, seemingly in slow motion. Yet, even through his pain and his fear Frank never lost his wit. He could still make us laugh. And he never stopped fighting. My last conversation with him was about a treatment that might improve his breathing.
Most of us will die without having a spot reserved for us in history books, without having lived a “lifestyle of the rich and famous.” Except for an incredibly few people, the world at large will neither know nor care that we existed. And yet, I am sure that our lives matter beyond our wildest imaginations to those we have touched. In spite of our many conversations, I don’t believe I ever found a way to tell Frank how much his friendship meant to me.
Frank’s two daughters and two grandsons meant the world to him. Like many of us, he had a funny way of showing it. Somehow it was easier for him to tell guys like Paul and me how much he loved them, admired them and needed them when he should have been telling his kids. Men are good at that. We won’t admit our sins. We’ll pretend it doesn’t matter and we keep too much inside. It’s not that we don’t know the truth. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson, we just can’t handle it.
And so it is with Frank’s passing. I get teary eyed now and then and I am always surprised by my own reaction. I don’t want to talk about him anymore but I can’t stop talking about him. Shredagavis is a silly word Frank made up many years ago. Depending on the context, it could mean anything; hello, goodbye, tough luck, so what?… The word is still in use in some select circles.
Ever have a friend who made up a word? A friend who’s fighting for his life? Call him. Send an email or a text. Hop on a flight soon. There’s never as much time as we think.

Does Democracy Still Work?

The debt ceiling crisis of 2011 has passed. We did not default because the Congress and the President got together at the 11th hour and passed a bill that will allow us to borrow what we need until after the 2012 elections. In spite of all the rhetoric about getting a start on fixing our incredible debt problems, not much was accomplished. Our nation’s leaders kicked the can down the road yet again.
I’m an American citizen dying to be proud of my country again. Instead I am sorely disappointed by our inability to attack and solve any of our serious problems. We can debate whether Social Security, Medicare and defense spending are out of control. We can and should have healthy debates over the solutions to our problems. In the end though, we have to be able to trust our elected officials to do what is right for America. Therein lies the problem. We don’t trust our politicians to give us the right time of day even if we buy the book they’ve written and hawked on MSNBC.
We are an extremely divided country now in a way we never were before. If Pearl Harbor was attacked today I wonder if we would accept a military draft. Would young men and women volunteer in overwhelming numbers? Or would we sit and watch MSNBC and Fox News fight over what the correct response should be?
I was raised to believe in democracy as the best possible form of government. Everything I was taught made it clear that participatory government was the way a free people thrive. Yet, watching this latest spectacle play out in Washington, I was struck by a horrifying thought: What if democracy as a form of government no longer works?
What if cable news, radio and the blogosphere, filled with ideologues that have no incentive to compromise, have hijacked our ability to govern effectively? Clearly, advances in communication technology have altered political dialogue and our ability to get things done. There was a time when news traveled a lot slower than it does today. Upon hearing news that might be upsetting, people had time, not only to react, but to think and as a result, form an opinion. Judgments were considered; arrived at based on experience and sharing ideas with others. Today information, including truth, lies, simple errors and the like, moves so fast that it’s nearly impossible to reflect before we respond. Visceral reaction and opinion have become practically synonymous. And should political leaders be unfortunate enough to voice an unconsidered reaction, they pay full price. Never mind that being pressed for a comment in stressful situations increases the odds of a slip. It’s even money that the gaffe will be played over and over again.
Media demands instantaneous response in nearly all situations, from the Casey Anthony trial to the debt ceiling crisis. The media with its 24/7 news cycle has built a monster that demands constant feeding. The need for viewers, which translates into ratings and ultimately cash, also drives what is news and what isn’t. Perhaps that’s always been true but the difference today is that news outlets will do anything, not only to get a story but to create one if they must. That’s why every election is a horserace, every statement is picked apart like a Thanksgiving turkey and every story is framed in a simplistic white hat versus black hat scenario. You’re either a winner or a loser. Compromise is not a compelling story.
How can leaders govern in this environment? Political action groups, another cancer that is destroying everything this nation has built over the last 200 years, use instant communication technology to do a number on elected officials who stray even slightly from positions taken or promises made. Governing is all about compromise. We will never agree on every major issue we face. The best deals usually happen when both sides give a little to get what matters most to them. When giving means you may not be around in the next cycle to get something you believe in, why bother? Recent history suggests you can stay in office as long as you don’t negotiate; even if nothing gets done.
Yet, I still hope that average citizens, seemingly preoccupied with day to day struggles, are not the somnolent, indifferent people some think they are. The beauty of our democracy has always been our ability to work together to fix what’s wrong. Democracy works but it takes work. The time to speak out is now.

Copyright 2011, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.

Super Power: What Choice Would You Make?

Get this: Given a choice of super powers, 28% of Americans would pick the ability to read minds. Yes, according to a recent Marist Poll, people of all ages would like to be able to read your mind. I can see the attraction in a way. If I knew what you were thinking now for example, I would know whether you were glad you opened the link to my blog. I would also know if you liked my writing, and when you stopped reading and why.
As a sales professional think of how much time I could save if I knew what the customer was thinking. “Listen to this guy! He goes on and on. Does he ever take a breath? And speaking of breath, what exactly did he have for lunch today?” Well, you can’t make a sale on every call I guess.
Regardless, I am sure there would be some other advantages in knowing what others are thinking, but what if I couldn’t control it? I mean suppose I had to know what you were thinking whether I was interested or not? Would I have room for my own thoughts or would I be inundated with the mundane thoughts of others? Believe me if they’re anything like mine, every day would feel like hard time at Shawshank. Imagine listening to endless meanderings like “I’m tired and I still have to take out the garbage.” Or, “What day is it anyway?” “Did I take my blood pressure pill? Damn it I have to count my pills again.” No doubt your thoughts are considerably more profound. I sure hope so.
By the way, when it comes to super powers the ability to time travel was just as popular. That’s right 28% of Americans think that would be cool. I like that one. I think it would be great to go back to say, August of 2004 so I could buy as many shares of Google as possible. Then I could pay somebody else to count my pills.
I might also want to take a trip to the future to see how the world turns out. I would be particularly interested in whether the New York Yankees win the pennant in 2048, the hundredth anniversary of my arrival on earth. Not to mention whether I might be in attendance on opening day that year. Probably not but it would be nice to know.
Invisibility didn’t score that high. Only 10% of us think being invisible would be a good super power to have. For my money it beats the heck out of reading people’s minds. For one thing I would rather be able to pick the people I wanted to snoop on and hear what they have to say out loud. Tell me you wouldn’t want to be in your boss’s office when he was discussing your performance with his boss. “I keep telling this guy he’s got to stop eating onions for lunch. Customers are complaining.”
How about keeping an eye on your kids while they’re in school? Well, perhaps not. Most of us would be depressed. Based on what we saw and heard, we probably would be in line at the super power store that very afternoon. We’d be hot to trade our invisibility for time travel so we could go back to when the world was perfect, which according to the “remember when” emails I get, was around 1956.
The ability to fly didn’t score much better than invisibility. Just 16% of us would like to fly. For my money, flying wouldn’t be a great super power to have unless you were invulnerable to cold air and bird strikes. And you would have to be able to fly at a leisurely pace, reasonably low to the ground too. Listen, if it’s 24 degrees out and you’re doing 600 miles an hour at 30,000 feet, I’m guessing frostbite becomes an issue pretty quickly. A flock of migrating geese could give one pause as well.
Every since super heroes like Batman and Superman came to life in comic books, people have dreamt about having a super power. I’m surprised that the pollsters didn’t offer other choices like invulnerability, x-ray vision or the chance to be China. Which super power would you pick? Take your time and please, remember the old saying. Be careful what you wish for…

Where She Stops Nobody Knows

I was in Detroit again, Ann Arbor to be exact. At the end of a long day of sales calls my colleague Fred and I checked into the Candlewood Suites. It was my first time staying at this Holiday Inn property. A young man greeted us at the check-in counter ready to process our reservation. I couldn’t help noticing a prize wheel sitting on the counter to my right.
You know the type. You’ve seen them at carnivals. You put your money down and spin the wheel. Let’s say you placed your money on a stuffed animal, maybe a platypus. If the wheel stops on that prize you win. Of course at carnivals, the wheel has about 2,000 choices. Your odds of actually winning something are only slightly better than the likelihood you will be the next President of the United States.
At the Candlewood Suites in Ann Arbor the wheel only has ten choices, three once you boil it down. There are four chances to win a can of Coca~Cola, two chances to win $3.00 worth of snacks and two chances to win 1,000 Priority Club points. There are, as it turns out two other possibilities. I was so looking forward to trying my luck with the Candlewood Suites prize wheel. Who doesn’t like a little game of chance?
I quickly signed the registration sheet, got my room key, and then gave the wheel a spin. As it came to a stop that other possibility, one I didn’t really notice in my excitement, came into focus. It said, “Better Luck Next Time.” You might think I was chagrined beyond belief by my bad luck but I was actually quite happy with the result. Had I won the 1,000 point prize or even a can of Coke, I’m sure I wouldn’t have given the moment a second thought. Instead I was flabbergasted by the idea that someone in the Candlewood Suites organization, no doubt a marketing professional, thinks it’s a good idea to send some customers to their rooms feeling like losers.
I looked at the desk clerk who was obviously prepared to sympathize with me over my bad luck. I couldn’t help it. I was laughing. I said, “I’ve been on the road all day. I’m tired and I have never stayed at your hotel before. Do you really want to send me to my room cursing my bad luck? Are you trying to make me connect the Candlewood brand with feeling like a loser? Why don’t you go all the way? Instead of saying ‘Better Luck Next Time’ why not say ‘Drop Dead?’ Seriously, why not let me feel the full weight of your indifference?” He smiled back at me and shrugged. Marketing wasn’t his department.
Listen: I get it that the prize wheel is supposed to inject a little fun, even excitement in what is an otherwise mundane activity. But the hotel used it in a way that surely has unintended and certainly unwelcome side effects. I am sure that many if not most people would spin the wheel and laugh it off if they lost. What I can’t help wondering though is whether it’s worth the risk that some people might avoid the hotel next time they’re in town, simply because…“there is something about that place…I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like…” Instead of better luck next time I think the options should be a new Buick. I’m just saying.
I’ve experienced the prize wheel before by the way. Years ago not long after we were married, my wife and I were buying carpet. There was a sale going on. Big discounts were promised. Once you selected your carpet and padding you had to spin the wheel to see how big your discount would be. As I recall, discounts went from 3% to 12%. I spun and it landed on 9%, not bad. It wasn’t until later that it dawned on me that they were prepared to give us an additional 3% discount if the prize wheel landed on 12%. Why should I accept anything less? My colleague Fred who frequently stays at Holiday Inn property’s rightly insisted on the 1,000 point prize for that very reason. Why should he accept less? Alas, its years too late to make my case on the carpeting. Better luck next time I guess.

Copyright 2011 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.

Where Have You Gone Kit Carson?

Imagine if you will the early American pioneers traveling in wagon trains from Missouri all the way to California. Rugged men, women and children all, they battled weather, tricky terrain, unpredictable rivers and angry Native Americans to reach their new homes. It could be argued that these pioneers defined the American can-do spirit. These men and women had an insatiable thirst for adventure. Traveling for as long as six months to reach their promised land, they consistently demonstrated independence in thought and action. America is a great country because these brave souls wouldn’t accept the conventional wisdom that it wasn’t safe to make a 2,000 mile journey in a wagon. They believed in themselves and in the future of America.
Now imagine what would have happened if, when they reached the Rocky Mountains, they found a band of fellow Americans wearing uniforms with patches that said TSA on their shirts. Picture an agent of the Federal government requesting identification, demanding that the men remove their belts and boots. Imagine the women being subjected to a pat down through their petticoats. Can you hear the TSA agent telling them they could not take their water-filled canteens another step further because they weren’t purchased at the entrance to the mountain range? When the TSA agents insisted that the men leave their weapons behind, I’m guessing a riot would have ensued which the history books would no doubt refer to as the Massacre of South Pass, Wyoming.
I was standing in line before 6 a.m. at the Nashville International Airport last week trying to get to Detroit. There was an unusually large crowd that morning trying to get through security, nervously checking their watches and praying they would make their flights. That is when they weren’t distracted by emails and text messages or listening to Maroon 5 on their i-Pods. Like sheep we all did exactly as we were told. We handed over our boarding passes along with our picture IDs just to get into the line.
As we got closer to the gray buckets and conveyor belts we ran through our mental checklist: Wallet, jewelry, cell phone, coins, belts, tiny toiletries and oh yes, laptops. We know that all these items along with any jackets and shoes must be removed and placed in the buckets. We gently pushed them along, careful to smile at any TSA agents that might look in our direction. It makes no sense to look like an independent, non-compliant American citizen. No one wants to submit to the public pat down or electric wanding that suggests you’re either a potential threat to national security or a dummy who doesn’t even know how to fly to Detroit.
With plenty of time on my hands, I found myself scrutinizing the faces of my fellow travelers. I was looking for any signs of rebellion in the ranks. Maybe we’re too distracted to rebel. Perhaps a bit self satisfied that life is good enough so why make waves? It doesn’t take that long to get through the line anyway. Seriously, shouldn’t we carefully examine gray-haired old men and women, checking even their canes to be sure we can fly safely? Doesn’t it make sense to send innocent 5 year old red-blooded American children through an x-ray machine? I feel safer don’t you?
I go through this process nearly every week. Usually it doesn’t take very long but it is frustrating nevertheless. That morning I couldn’t help thinking about the American spirit and whether we have any fight left in us. What will it take for us to say, enough!
“Sir, before I let you board the plane you will have to recite the Pledge of Allegiance and sing God Bless America into this microphone or you can’t fly today.”
“Excuse me miss, we have your identification and your ticket is valid but our clerk here is going to perform a full cavity search live on television which will be seen by anyone sitting in the food court.”
I understand the need for airport security. No one wants a repeat of 9/11. But we have become much too willing to accept patently absurd notions about safety because it’s easier than fighting the craziness. Passenger profiling need not be based solely on ethnic or racial stereotypes. In fact experts say it would be a mistake. Regardless, our current security system makes air travel a nuisance. If only we had the ingenuity of our forefathers. Surely we could find a better way. Most of us know America can do better. Our ancestors would have done something about it.

Copyright Len Serafino 2011. All rights reserved.

Joy Redux

In May of last year, just nine short months ago, I posted a column about a BMW ad claiming they made joy instead of cars. I had some fun with the German automaker for positing such a ridiculous notion. At least Pontiac built excitement -until its heart stopped beating. BMW didn’t claim to build anything. Instead they decided to redefine the word joy. Remember?
Joy breaks the mold
Joy is timeless
Joy is youthful
Joy can be counted
Joy is maternal
Joy is future proof
BMW has since parted company with the advertising agency that created that awful campaign. No joy in Mudville and not much in Munich. But then there’s this: I bought a BMW X3 today. Now I’m sure some BMW marketing executive will smile and say, “The joy ad was very effective. You bought one of our cars Len.” Like a baby, my BMW purchase was born nine months after they impregnated my brain with the subliminal message: Put some joy in your life Serafino. Buy a Beamer. Who knows? Anything’s possible right? David, the client advisor did seem to be waiting for me when I drove up and parked outside the showroom floor. He seemed very confident that he had a live one. I wonder how he knew.
People who know me well are aware that I can be extremely impulsive when it comes to buying cars. In the most disgraceful example of such behavior, I accompanied a co-worker to a car dealership to help out and wound up being the buyer myself. Obviously no sleight of hand, including claims of unbridled joy, is needed to get my juices flowing. I am ready to buy with little provocation. My wife won’t even allow me to go to a car wash alone, fearful that I might select “new car smell” a fragrance that can send me to the nearest car dealer in a heartbeat. I'e had the vehicle I just traded for more than 6 years which in my 40+ years of car buying is a record. That I actually own the car is another minor miracle. Is there a fragrance for upside down financing?
I actually enjoy the give and take integral to buying a car. It helps when the sales person is pushy. There is nothing I like better than playing mental tennis with a wild eyed sales guy who runs back and forth between his desk and his manager’s office as we wrangle over price. You might say it gives me joy.
Sadly, that didn’t happen this time. BMW’s David, the guy who sold me the X3, was a gentleman. He was knowledgeable, courteous and above all, he treated me fairly. He took all the fun out of the experience for me. On the other hand if exchanging insults over glass cubicle walls isn’t your idea of fun, well, you might give David a try. I think my blood pressure actually dropped during the transaction. Even my wife sat there with me today, something she swore she would never do again after I held the receptionist and the service manager hostage for three hours the last time I bought a car. I still maintain BMW overshot with the joy thing, but based on my experience with their Nashville dealership, they could run an ad that says we take the angst out of buying a car, at least for normal people.
By the way, if you happened to see the BMW ad and hated it, please let me know. I am always seeking validation. Better still, if you read my post on the topic and bought one of their cars anyway, call me. Maybe I could claim a commission. That would really give me joy.

Copyright 2011 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.

Living the Dream

I’m listening to the CORE FM, a Rutgers University radio station as I write this from Franklin Tennessee. Yes, the Web has opened a world to us that was completely unknown to our parents, not to mention our grandparents. The DJ I’m listening to is Mike Wollman, a 61 year old friend of mine from our days at Rutgers in Newark. And that is perhaps the larger miracle of the age in which we live.
Mike has had a very successful career as a teacher in secondary schools. While we were in college he held down a DJ slot on the campus radio station. Now here he is enjoying a passion of his, still in fine voice and as much on top of today’s music as he was in the 1960s.
We live in an age when dreams need not be lost because of time wasted, obligations undertaken or narrowly missed opportunities. Long held dreams are not trampled by the fates the way they were in generations past. Thanks to the Web, a plethora of educational opportunities and demand publishing to name a few, there are more avenues for self expression than ever before in history. Mike told me he did in fact dream of being on the radio again for almost 30 years. When the opportunity presented itself he studied, took some tests and made it happen. And in the nicest of touches, his daughter Becca, who was active at the station, gave him an assist.
Our dreams can stay alive for years, even if fed only by the tiniest morsel of hope. The beauty of our world is this: Dreams can come to fruition at any time. One reason is there is less discrimination now. When women and minorities secured the right to chase their dreams, they helped to break down lots of barriers and conventional wisdom including the silly idea that one should act his age.
Certainly a mature individual is capable of discerning the difference between what is truly a young person’s activity and what is open to anyone willing to try. So it is that former President Bush jumped from an airplane to celebrate his 75th, 80th and 85th birthdays. Conventional wisdom surely would suggest that the former President act his age. Fortunately he didn’t and anyone still chasing a dream should take heart.
At a recent Toastmasters meeting the Toastmaster of the day chose fearlessness as the theme of the day which led to some discussion about why people fear chasing their dreams. Some said it’s the fear of ridicule. Others suggested a fear of failure. It’s hard to disagree with those explanations but I suspect there is another fundamental reason why people don’t actually chase their dreams. Most of us have secret dreams that we hold dear for many years. We tell ourselves that one day we will do the thing we really want to do. Maybe it’s something grand like climbing Mt Everest or perhaps a bit more modest like learning to speak French. We would do these things if only we had the time.
So what derails us from chasing our dreams as we crawl, walk and sometimes run through life? I think the underlying fear is that if we fail, the question then is what will happen to our dreams? What in the world will we replace them with if we fail? Lord knows even an unrealized dream can serve a critical purpose in our lives. A dream can be mental comfort food, something we pull out when our lives are completely at odds with the world.
“No I didn’t get that promotion but some day I’m going to get my MBA and I’ll be a huge success.”
“Another broken relationship and it hurts but one day I’ll write a best seller and then…”
Thoughts like that can get us through some difficult moments but it seems like a high price to pay for succor. I think Mike figured out that the beauty of chasing his dream was in the doing. He didn’t become a celebrity DJ talking to millions from a Manhattan studio. But that isn’t how he defined success. He realized that accepting the challenge and doing what he loved was true success. Think about times when you have been really successful. What part of the experience gives you the most satisfaction, the recognition or the actual work you completed?
Life will always have its disappointments. Don’t let one of yours be that you never reached for your secret stars. Remember living the dream is in the doing.

Copyright 2011 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.

‘57 Chevys yes…Boy George…not so much

My friend Chuck sent me an email filled with nostalgic pictures from the 1950s. Most of us get these if we’re beyond a certain age. No matter how many I get, I still enjoy receiving them. But sometimes I wonder if nostalgic emails are circulating among the truly geriatric set, extolling the virtues of the 1940s. Certainly there are eighty-somethings out there who are techno-savvy. Do they secretly share photos of Glenn Miller, Frank Sinatra and Kate Smith? Do they delight in looking at pictures of War bonds, Rosie the riveter and Kilroy? Do they recall zoot suits with fondness too?
World War II was of course the central story of the 1940s. I suppose it’s impossible for people of that generation to look back on those years in the joyful way baby boomers romanticize the 1950s. At least 300,000 Americans died as a result of the war. Millions of people were touched by sadness for having lived through it. Yet, when the war was over, the people who fought the battles made the armaments or kept the home fires burning, made the 1950s the decade we baby boomers cherish.
Most of the 1950s cultural artifacts I’m reminded of in these “remember when” photo displays are the things of childhood; like candy cigarettes, pea shooters, hula hoops, Howdy Doody and the Lone Ranger. And there are other triggers like 1957 Chevys, black and white TVs that took three minutes to warm up and S&H Green Stamps. These collages seem to suggest that we all lived in harmony, safe and well fed. We all went to schools where we learned what we needed to know and almost never ate the paste. On Sunday we all went to church. After church we had roasted chicken lots of vegetables and Mom’s home made apple pie for dessert.
The point of these messages is that life was way better back then. Life made sense. We lived in simpler times. Of course life was simple. We were kids. What did most of us know about discrimination, A-bombs or Commies? I have never received an email from someone from my parents’ generation extolling the virtues of the ‘50s.
I think people playing the role of adults at the time, probably remember the 1950s as an unsteady era. A time when having just defeated the Nazis, we were now involved in a new kind of war, a cold one with our former allies in Russia. A Senator from Wisconsin was conducting witch hunts that could actually be watched on a box in the living room. And well into the 1950s, our parents feared we might get polio. Millions of Americans still worked in factories at jobs that may have paid reasonably well but under conditions that in no way can be compared to the typical office environment today. Ed Norton, the sewer worker had little in common with The Office’s Dwight.
Generations that came before us were happy to see their children enjoy such good times. They could live vicariously through us. And they weren’t the least bit nostalgic for the 1930s either, by the way, when they were actually kids. Would anyone suggest that pictures of men selling apples on the street or people living in tents would call to mind better days?
Adults tend not to be nostalgic over things they did or witnessed after they grow up. If we did wouldn’t Chuck (and 50,000 other friends) be sending me pictures of Boy George, Hootie and the Blowfish, a picture of a PC with AOL on the screen and a reminder of how it took soooo long to get on-line with dial up? You can be sure there would be a picture of George Costanza in the mix too. Well, maybe not George. Thanks to cable TV I can still visit with him every night of the week.

Copyright 2011, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.