GreatRidge Station

I think I’m losing my edge. I called up AAA to cancel my membership.

It did not go well.

• I don’t do well with phone-mazes. This amounts to a game of pick the least irrelevant of all the following irrelevant options. For hub-cap polishing advice, press or say 1; For information about where you put your keys, press or say 2; If you own a pre-1940 automobile in any color other than black, please press or say 3; If you wish to add family members, please press or say 4. (Incidentally, I’m not sure I want AAA involved with any “begetting” that might happen–seems irrelevant unless you own a Nash).
• Wait times. It’s never a good sign when the phone-maze tells you: “We are experiencing higher-than-usual call volume. Your wait will be more than 10 minutes, and less than 12 years.”
• Hold-messages. “We’re more than just automobiles. We’re also cruise vacations, and overseas travel experts.” Yeah. If I had the money to go to any of those places, do you really think I’d be calling you from Minnesota during a snowstorm?

With all of that happening, you can usually add an obnoxious customer service person to that list. Not this time. Much to my surprise, she was quite helpful and courteous. As I hung up, I realized that I went in “loaded for bear,” but instead, I think I might have actually been polite.

How unusual.

In my Monday post, I mentioned Shaped-note/Sacred harp Singing. It’s an odd but beautiful art form. I mean no unkindness here, but the singers tend to “beller” rather than sing. The shape of the note indicates the note to be sung, and this unique folk-art is rhythmic and engaging.
I found this, on YouTube. “Bound For the Promised Land” is the first song here.

Last year, at Christmas, my sister and I spent Christmas night going page-by-page through the old church hymnal that we grew up with. She would play the piano, I would sing, and she would harmonize, and we did that for every song we new (and we got to 207 before we quit). This year, we plan to pick up where we left off.

Thanksgiving is considered the start of the holiday season by many. For us, it’s the start of the singing around the piano season. At Thanksgiving this year, my aunt (we call her Snooks), my niece, and my sister were in the dining room playing cards together. I went to look for a particular song that I wanted to sing. I finally found it, in an old hymnal originally designed for acapella shape-note/sacred harp singing. A few minutes later, my niece came into the room, evidently needing a break from the card game. I asked her to play the song for me.

She sat down at the piano, looked at the page, and then looked at me: “Four sharps? I can’s play four sharps.”

I encouraged her to try, but she was right. She couldn’t play four sharps (in all fairness, she couldn’t sight-read four sharps–with a little work she could: She’s a very capable pianist).

My niece left the room, and a few minutes later, her mom (my sister) came in: “I can play four sharps. Let’s see it.” She sat down at the piano, then looked at me: “Oh, yuk. I hate the shape of these notes. I can never play out of this book.”

She, too, was right.

At that point, my mom, who was sitting at the computer, chimed in: “Am I ever going to get to hear you sing that song?

“I hope so. There’s one piano player left, and the only excuse remaining is I can’t see well enough to read the notes.”

Seconds later, my aunt Snooks comes into the room, and announces: “I brought my glasses so I can see the page.”

With that, my mom and I burst out laughing: “You better be able to play it, because you just spent the only remaining excuse!”

She played (wow, four sharps!), and I sang (on key). A few minutes later, after a lot of laughing and general good fun, she went back to the dining room. The card game resumed, mom won her game of solitaire, and I went back to thumbing through the music books.

Together, we had made a memory.

I don’t know who to address this to. The jolly fat man at the north pole has no stake in this discussion, and MN-DOT seems not to want to take me seriously. This, then, is my Christmas driving list.

1. I want one of those licenses that a lot of people seem to have. It allows them to run red lights (as long as no one is in the intersection), and to blow through stop signs.
2. This may be the same as item 1, but I list it separately because it might be a special certification. I want to be able to do the “no stop on right turn.” This seems to work for both lights and standing stop-signs.
3. Apparently, someone installed a Romulan Cloaking Device in my car. While I can see times where this might be handy, in my life I have no need of a stealthy getaway. Please remove it: I would prefer that other drivers could see me, and not pull out right in front of me.
4. I want the people who design drive up ATMs to realize that not everyone drives a monster truck, and therefore, not all ATMs need to be seven feet above the ground. I hate having to stand on top of my Honda Accord to see the screen.
5. I want a hovercraft. The only pain in my commute is the fact that I have to cross the river, and that means I have to sit in slow traffic, waiting to get across bridges. I either need a hovercraft, or someone needs to put up a few more bridges.

That’s it. I think my wishes are simple–at least as simple as world peace.

This is, unashamedly, my I told you so post.

A year ago, in most of my classes, and in conversations with other leaders, I made the assertion that “Best Buy is in trouble–deep trouble–and they don’t even know it.” My rationale was simple. Last Christmas, they were competing on big-ticket items, mostly televisions and surround-sound entertainment systems. The problem with that strategy was that it alienated the very market share that built the company: People interested in small-ticket electronics and media. Rather than pointing out “We’re a great place to buy that small, $20 Christmas gift,” they unintentionally sent the message, “don’t come if you don’t have a load of money and a truck to haul away your purchases.”

The leaders at Best Buy started strangling their business more than a year ago, and 2007 November sales were around $228 million. This year, they were $52 million. They might never have made up the business that they lost, but their strategy alienated their fall-back markets.

Attention, Leaders. You need to learn to read your business and your markets. The fact that I could read Best Buy’s problems a year ago suggests that this kind of thing is knowable. And if it is knowable, the leaders are accountable for it.

One of our CSF students was speaking about one of his final exams with some concern. I shared the following information with him, and thought it might be worth recounting here.

Adult life has brought a number of surprising changes in perception. The first happened when I attended our daughter’s parent-teacher conference at her school when she was in second grade. I realized then that my role had changed forever–I was no longer the kid being evaluated, but the parent being involved in our child’s education. The next happened when I was dealing with employees–hiring, reviewing, and (in one case) terminating. It was then that I realized that the employment process was as challenging for the employer as for the employee..

Now, as a college instructor, I have discovered that the same thing is true, and this is what I shared with this student. Any final project, whether it is a paper, and exam, or a presentation, is just as stressful for the instructor as it is for the student. In a very real sense, it becomes a very personal evaluation of the teacher’s ability to express his or her ideas and communicate knowledge to the students. This is why it is disheartening to an instructor when a student earns a low grade. I encouraged our student to keep this in mind, and remember that every final exam is, ultimately, a conversation with the instructor. It involves managing knowledge, ideas, and information, and presenting them in a way that demonstrates mastery of the material and respect for the instructor. By the end of a course, most of us (instructors, that is) have developed relationships with our students and frankly, we care about them.

Exams and final projects do not exist in a vacuum, but are always positioned in the social, cultural, foundational, and philosophical context of the course.  Keep this perspective in mind throughout a course, and the grades seem to follow.

This same factor applies throughout life. Most of our significant relationships–whether in the workplace, at home, in the community, at church, or anywhere else–only thrive when they are conversations. The two-way-nature of human communication is essential in nearly every aspect of our lives.

Still, it’s kind of cool. One of my colleagues said “Did you see this? There’s a really nice picture of you on our web page.”

I find it hard to believe that there is a good picture of me anywhere, but lo an behold, there was my smiling face, and three fourths of my shining head. What you can’t tell here is that the baldness goes all the way to the top, and I am, in fact, wearing the requisite “tweed jacket with leather elbow patches.” No coolness here–not so much as a molecule (I’m fine with that, by the way).

Here’s a link, so you can see it in its context. I teach Organizational Leadership in the Adult and Graduate programs at Bethel University. Apparently, they are trying to reduce enrollment!

So, of course, I had to send a copy to my wife (who described it as “Quite A Handsome Guy” –the poor, blind woman). I also sent five copies to my mother.

The tag line for this blog, as you see above is: “Equip - Delight - Encourage.” Twenty years ago, they would have been morphed into a useless (and, probably, mostly meaningless) mission statement. To my good fortune and great blessing, they took on a far less structured, but more meaningful form. I choose those three words more than 11 years ago, and they capture much of who I am, in all of life.

I worked these out during a weekend-long retreat I took during a particular career crisis in my life (the dissolution of the department of which I was a part). I used the book The Path by Laurie Beth Jones, along with a wonderful little book by Dale Dauten, The Max Strategy, to help me wrestle through some of these issues. Incidentally, when you look at the size to price ratio of these two books, you are likely to object–the price to quality ratio makes them a bargain even at full list price. I can’t say I agreed with everything in these books, but I will say that I found them very helpful–keep in mind that you should always read with a critical eye or two.

These words show up on my screen-saver, on this blog, on my Great Ridge Group business cards, and various other places in my life. They are a constant reminder that I must be about the work to which God has called me.

I decided against doing a series, highlighting each of these concepts. The whole thing bothered me from the beginning, and seems a bit self-serving. I’ll tell you what, I’ll try to live them out, and you hold me to them.

Well, the future stadium for the Minnesota Twins now has a name. They decided to call it Target Field. Or, more accurately, Target Corporation paid a lot of money–more than the next-highest bidder–for the right to call it anything they wanted.

This should be a cause for concern. Target is a fine company, and aside from some philosophical issues, I have no complaints about them. Here’s the problem: The sphere of markets, selling, and finance have taken over significant parts of our lives. These “monunuments to our success” signal a change in values. The current Twins stadium is named for Hubert H. Humphrey, one of Minnesota’s favorite sons, and1968 presidential candidate.  This new one is Target Field, but maybe the Tom Burnett, Junior Ballpark would have been far more appropriate. Kids ought to know the answer to that question, too.

Culturally, we’ve given up the idea of commemorating our heroes. The not-so-subtle message is that our highest model to be emulated is not to be found in the great people who have influenced our state, but in the corporate economic giants.

For years, at Twins and Viking games, children have asked their parents “Who is Hubert H. Hump-hrey?” And parents (even Republican parents) knew the answer and told them.

In Indiana, their domed stadium was called the Hoosier Dome for many years, until RCA paid millions of dollars to rename it “The RCA Dome.” By the way the Hoosier/RCA Dome has been replaced by the Lucas Oil Stadium.

The point is that no kid is likely to ask “Who’s Target?” They know, at least they do now, and that’s what’s most important. Someday, kids might ask about Target, just as kids now have reason to ask “Who’s RCA.” Those questions ultimately become irrelevant. Those with the money create monuments to themselves, and when the money goes away, the next “economic-trollop” gets in line to play the game. Target has a 25 year naming rights arrangement for the new stadium in Minneapolis, but if tough times hit, they can always cut their losses and bow to the highest bidder.

Shame on us, when we celebrate companies, and cast off our true heroes. Empire is turning us into economic beings, to the exclusion of all else.  And they think they own us.

Ah yes, the United States finds itself in its quadrennial blizzard of political rhetoric. There was a time in my life when I loved politics, but not so much, anymore. I still love it when politics is motivated by the public good, and not, as is most always the case, by financial gain (this, by definition, makes me a cynic).

None of our major political parties has a monopoly on truth. In fact, it appears that truth and American politics have nothing whatsoever to do with one another. If you want to make sense of the politics of the next few months, you have to be smarter than a commentator.

Here’s my recommendation: Get David T. Koyzis’s book, Political Visions and Illusions. Dr. Koyzis is a friend, a long-distance colleague, and a fellow Bethel alum, and his book is a great help in making sense of our foolish committment to political illusion. See beyond the smoke and mirrors. Read this book. And read his blog.

We have a favorite restaurant (no website, but a map and review). It is wonderful, authentic, and some of the people there have become our friends. Bad news, though–last time we were there they had a sign on the door that said:

Beginning on Sept 2, we will be close for remodelations

The sign was delightful. I love taking pictures of odd signage, but I didn’t take a shot of this one. These are my friends, and I didn’t want to offend.

Part of my job as an educator (here) is grading papers, correcting grammar, and helping people to communicate clearly. Just so you know, I did not mark the sign wrong or put any proofreading marks on it. This points out an important leadership lesson: When we care about someone, we don’t correct them for things that don’t matter. It’s a restaurant, for pete’s sake, not a news bureau. It’s the food and service inside that matter, and not the grammar on the sign at the door. Give people grace on the little stuff, and you earn the credibility to address the big issues of life.

It is important for leaders to know when to let go, and when an issue needs to be addressed. Those can be generally narrowed to a couple of key areas: Core competencies (the things that are part of one’s role and responsibility), Character (the deep down issues of values, beliefs, and convictions, and how those are lived out), and Belonging (do the quality of one’s relationships integrate or alienate a person from his or her community/neighborhood/workplace, in other words, don’t be a jerk).

I tell my students that there are leadership lessons everywhere. Even at my favorite restaurant.
As for us, we can hardly wait until the remodelations are done.

A hectic few days.

Spent most of the time working on stuff for one of my main gigs.  Finished final grades for a summer class. Had two meetings with colleagues. Made fresh salsa (as much Jalapeno as tomato–sun-grown, really hot jalapenos, at that).

I’ll have more to say about leadership tomorrow. Right now, there is a patio chair with my name (and imprint) on it.

I had an opportunity to spend time with some good friends last night. The gathering was because a dear friend, an elderly gentleman (the father of one of the aforementioned good friends) was in town.

Years ago, he told me that he always wrote under the psuedonym “Ebenezer.”

Chuck Dickens ruined that name and redefined it–you all know the story. Ebenezer, in fact, is an Old Testament word meaning “Rock of Help.” It was not a person’s name at all, but a place-name that commemorated God’s faithfulness.

Now in his 80s, my friend Ebenezer is a testimony to God’s unwavering character, compassion, and holiness. He has walked with the Lord Jesus Christ for so many years that his character has been shaped by that ongoing encounter with the Living God. Ebenezer demonstrates through his life that God really is the only reliable rock of help–and Ebenezer has become that same kind of help and encouragement to others.

I will always be grateful for my friend Nelson Roetter and his family. Like this dear brother, may I always seek the true Ebenezer and may I become more and more like Him.

I did something dumb, but I did it before I realized it. I was merging onto a freeway, and I managed to (unintentionally) cut someone off. There was some road construction that was unmarked at the entrance ramp, and that narrowed the highway down to two lanes. Somehow, in all the mess, I failed to see him.

As he passed me, he waved with the universal gesture, meaning “Pardon me, but I find your driving poor and your intellect limited.” Or something like that.

So, here’s the thing: I knew I was wrong. In any other setting I would have apologized and taken full responsibility. It occurred to me that we have many hand gestures to express our irritation with someone stupid (in this case, me), but we have no hand gestures (or none that I could think of) that mean “I’m sorry, I was wrong, and I know it, but it was an honest mistake.”

In our culture, our non-verbal communication is generally combative, generally expressing the idea that “I’m right and you are a moron.” Not only do we lack subltety, we have no way to express any self-deprecating (read that as: “accurate/humble”) assessment of ourselves.  Our non-verbals are unashamedly arrogant–we have a cultural bias that allows us to believe that we are always right. When I’m not right, and I’m willing to admit it, there is no obvious way to express that.

This bothered me for a most of the day. I offended someone without intending to, and the truth is that for all my curmudgeonliness, I still have a compassionate streak.

As I’ve thought about this, I realized that most of the language of our culture suffers the same malady. We are afflicted with a false assurance that we are right and noble, I say afflicted because, I believe, we are generally blind to it. Apologies are rare (even when warranted), and we are generally convinced of our own goodness, worthiness, and entitled-ness. Like gestures on the road of life, we rarely discern the truth about ourselves. And on those rare times that we do, we don’t even have the ability to express it.

Arrogance is death to leadership. Or as the Bible puts it:

Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.
– Proverbs 16:18

I love acorns. Always have.

Now the Native Americans used to make a kind of “acorn butter” that was similar to what we know as peanut butter. Just because acorns are edible does not mean they are any good–they’re very bitter. That’s not what I love about acorns.

To me, an acorn is a wonderful symbol:

• It is a harbinger of fall
• It is a symbol of God’s provision and ongoing concern for his creation (oak trees, incidentally, grow very slowly and deliberately, and are about as unlike our western culture as they can be).
• They contain innumerable forests yet unseen
• Artistically, they are beautiful. They have whimsy (a nut in a knit cap), tactile appeal (both smooth and rough), beauty (perfect balance), and visual appeal (the ripe acorn is an unspeakably rich color, so often overlooked, and the not-quite-green-not-quite-brown before it is fully ripe is striking)

I don’t take acorns for granted. Like a four-year-old kid seized by the wonder of creation, my first impulse is to gather the ones that have fallen to the ground.

There’s no leadership moral here, just the quiet reminder that we all need moments of beauty in our lives. Pay attention to what captivates you–what turns you into that enthusiastic four-year-old. And if you take yourself too seriously for all that: Stop it. Go get some acorns.

About a year ago, a friend asked me “What CD is on repeat in your CD player?” Today, we’ve moved much more toward a software approach to music, and the question might be “What’s on your playlist.”

I’m happy to say that, yes, music has become interesting again. Those who know me well know that I love The Innocence Mission–but that seems to be winter music. I’ve been looking for some “fair weather” tunes, and I’m happy to say, I’ve found some. Here’s what I’m currently listening to, and why:

• Miriam Jones — You’ll find her on Amiestreet.com, the indie music site. She had two songs that were semi-finalists in the International Songwriting Competition, and her work is both complex and enjoyable. She’s a little bit folky, jazzy, poppy with good lyrics and surprising arrangements. She only has two albums worth of material, but I’m looking forward to much more from this talented artist.
• Susan Enan — Okay, so she has only released two tracks–but amazing tracks they are. I first heard her in the soundtrack to the film Cult of Sincerity, and I love her clear voice and elegant arrangements. I’m ready for more from her.
• Pearlfishers — These folks are, depending on which press releases you read, either from Scotland or Ireland. They are a bit pop-oriented, which, roughly translated means “not my kind of music.” The truth is, they have a winsome style that is hard to compare with anything else that is out there. Their music harkens back to times gone by, and does so with an amazingly diverse set of influences and styles.
• Michelle Whalen — It’s my privilege to have Michelle and her husband in my circle of friends. She sings honestly about Christian faith, struggles and challenges, joys and exaltations. Her new CD, Fringes, is worth a listen…and her voice is expressive, honest, and her range of tone, depth, timbre, and emotion will surprise you.
• Tyler Burkum — Tyler goes into my “artists I know” column. His dad and I have been friends for several years, and I have the privilege of working with his wife. I have great respect for Tyler, both musically and personally. He is the only person I know who has won four Grammy awards (for his work with Audio Adrenaline). Now, he takes his musical talent in his own direction, and the results are amazing. Buy his CD.

That’s it. As usual, I’m listening to musical innovators with one-of-a-kind styles, voices, and approaches. I know music is very personal, but, since I’m the blogger and you are the bloggee, I thought I would share some of the stuff I have discovered and enjoyed. This is all good summer music.

I had a long conversation (by phone) with my sister the other night. She mentioned something that seemed incredible to me; until she had Lasix surgery she had never seen the stars. She had heard about them, and she had seen one of the bright ones (she thought it might have been Arcturus, but I’m guessing Sirius), but she had no idea what a starlit night sky looked like.

She had taken the dark sky for granted throughout her youth and well into her adult years, and she never knew what she was missing. We both found it funny that she had taken an Astronomy class in college as an elective.

I often wonder what one person might see, and consider obvious, that another person might be incapable of seeing at all. We have to assume two things as leaders:

• In our own world, we have 20/20 vision, and everyone else is blind and groping about in the dark.
• When we enter someone else’s world, we’re the blind one in the dark, and they see the world in perfect clarity.
• Once in a while, those worlds overlap. This may mean that we both see (oh, that this would happen more often), or we are both blind (this is far more common). The problem is that we may not even be aware of our blindness.

This is a great challenge for leaders. Jesus addressed a similar situation (in specific circumstances) in Revelation 3:17, in the letter to the Church in Laodicea:

For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.

Indeed. So where are the blindspots in your own life, and even in how you see yourself?

In case anyone is still checking in: Sorry for the long hiatus. After I resolved all of my computer requirements, my wife and I went on vacation, and I never got back to it.

I find that I am more consistent with my blogging when I am teaching, and I’ve had a big chunk of the summer off.

I’m back now, so you can call your friends and tell them to meander into the station.

Technology and innovation are very challenging, and somehow, Amazon has figured it out quite well.

Among other things, they have brought some key features to the market:

• Constant availability –
  I can shop on my terms, and at my whim. If my computer is working, the information I need is available.
• Global reach –
  I have bought books, via Amazon, from a small bookstore in Sussex, UK, and at least twice from the same small bookshop in northern California. Needless to say, I’ve never visited either place. I just ordered an out-of-print book for my sister from another small shop. Amazing.
• Rich Information –
  As I read the reviews of a given book, I have a pretty good idea if the book might be what I want. I can tell as much from the wording and tone of the review as I can from the reviewer’s comments, and maybe more.
• Branding –
  I look forward to getting that brown box with the little trademark Amazon Smile on it. I feel like I have a personal stake in the company. Frankly, I buy from them because they have earned my trust.
• Community –
  Because Amazon knows my tastes, they make recommendations that are meaningful and (occasionally) perfectly accurate.

Years ago, in my home town of La Crosse, Wisconsin, there was a wonderful record store known as “The Tree Records.” What I loved about The Tree was that they knew my interest in music so well that they made suggestions and even special ordered the impossible things that I was looking for. They always used the same flat, green bags in their store, and it became their trademark–whenever you saw someone carrying that color of package, you knew that they had been to The Tree. Not long before they went out of business, the manufacturer quit making those green bags–I wonder if that record store didn’t die of the grief (I’m joking, but you know what I mean). Well, they went out of business years ago, long before the internet revolution, but Amazon provides that same level of friendly service that I expected from my friends at The Tree.

Now, with Kindle striking up a good deal of interest, Amazon is continuing to grow. Here’s a link to CEO/Founder Jeff Bezos’ recent letter to shareholders. Note that he also includes a shareholder letter from 11 years ago to add perspective and context to his comments.

Regardless of whether you are a fan of Amazon or not, you have to admire the business sense and cultural benefits that this organization has brought to society. Bezos offers a kind of bold, visionary leadership that is rarely seen today. One of the greatest challenges for organizations is to innovate from a position of success or power: Somehow, Amazon has managed to do that quite consistently.

I can’t tell you how many times I have told my students “As if you needed more proof that I am a total geek…”

Two weeks ago, I was working on a project with one of my colleagues at CSF, and I used my laptop computer all day. I came home, fired up my laptop again, and…nothing. I have no idea what happened, but all the memory fried, and the boot sector on the hard drive went out. Fortunately, I did manage to save all the data from that system.

So, two days later, I’m working on my desktop system, figuring that I’ll need to use that for a lot of my work. As I’m backing up files…blink. The power supply blew out.

I have another system that runs Linux, so I decided to set up my e-mail on it so I wasn’t completely in the stone age. Two days later, I turned on the system and..pfft! I burned out the power supply. So, I have three very nice boat anchors, and I managed to kill three computers in five days. Evidently, we had a power surge that turned my Uninterruptible Power Supply (UPS) into a computer eater (one of my surge protectors gave its life to protect my scanner and my office stereo). Other than clocks needing to be reset, computers seem to have taken all the damage (I’m currently working with the company that made my UPS to work out a settlement).

I could probably come up with a comedy routine along the lines of “You might be a geek if…”

The truth is that not everyone has three computers to burn out, so I guess that makes me a geek. Further proof of geekdom: My wife’s computer and the computer by the treadmill are both fine.

Jack Clayton Swearengen wrote about our utter dependence on technology, and these past couple of weeks have made me think a lot about his ideas. I work in at least two “people oriented” professions: Teaching and Ministry. Curiously, I found myself as helpless in those areas as I was in my two technology oriented professions: writing and consulting. At one time, technology was a want in my world, but some time over the past seven years, it has become an essential. That fact alone is a bit terrifying.

I, however, count my blessings. It’s true that there are very few people who can say they killed three computers in five days. But the fact is, most people do not have three computers to kill. My colleague, Brad, pointed that fact out to me, and I think it is great wisdom.