The P.A.

Stopping to smell the roses isn’t the issue for me.  It’s remembering what they smelled like.  That’s the tough part.  My guess is that there are very few “memories for a lifetime.”  We romanticize over the idea that an event will be pressed between the pages of our minds forever and ever.  Fact is, most of our memories barely last a lunch time, let alone a lifetime.  Sadly, I remember less and less about those moments that I should have tucked away forever.  My guess is there are others like me whose mental photographs are sketchy at best.  Life happens.

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Under the category of “you’ve got to be kidding – I never thought of it like that,” is a discussion I had with my wife this past Friday night while we were attending a Royals-Yankees game in Kansas City. A long-time buddy got married on Saturday, so we made a weekend of it. A good time was had by all.

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How starved for love was the baby-boomer generation?  We bought “Pet Rocks” to keep us company.  Yeah, that’s right.  If you don’t remember the first go-round of puka shell necklaces, wide-bottom bell bottoms, waffle stompers, or you have no idea what Stephen Tyler did before American Idol, then you had absolutely no idea that your parents may have been a couple of the millions who bought a rock and called it their pet.  Sick, huh?

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According to the CDC (Center for Disease Control), the majority of Americans have some work to do in order to improve their quality of life.  Yes, the same folks who talk to us about the flu and the other maladies of our time are now suggesting that we work diligently to improve our “sense of well-being” as a means by which to live a healthier life.  Apparently, a merry heart does make for good medicine.

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Years ago, I said to anybody who would listen (a scant group, as I recall) that I would gladly exchange a business degree for a psychology degree any time.  My point was that the data dump of accounting and finance nuts and bolts isn’t exclusively what is needed to survive long-term in the business world.

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“God is great, beer is good and people are crazy.”  From my perch, these have to be some of the best song lyrics ever written – succinct and true.  Country music’s poet laureates have done it again.  Apparently, the smell of deep-fried cigarette butts, complemented by the beer soaked floor planks found at the end of a rural route known only by a letter, makes for some great creative inspiration.

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A couple of weeks ago, Charles Barkley, basketball analyst with a robust personality and an opinion to match, continued his trademark penchant for controversy by negatively commenting on Michael Jordan.  Charles pulled no punches in telling the world that Michael didn’t know how to evaluate personnel.

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I did a bunch of reading this past week.  It came during a flight to the “left coast” of our great country.  Even with the sights, sounds and smells of a full airplane for three-plus hours, I was remarkably focused on an essay written by Walter Isaacson in which he spends time rounding off the perceived rough edges of Steve Jobs’ personality.

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Have you ever heard the phrase “an abundance of caution?”  It is that overly cautious state of mind that freezes progress.  Well, maybe not completely freezes progress from happening, but certainly backs down the pace considerably.  Think the tortoise versus the hare.  Think writing a check versus swiping the debit card.  By the way, that dude is always in front of me. 

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If you’re a saver, then you have been taking it on the chin for the good of the team – that “team” is the American economy.  Rates have been at extraordinarily low levels as a means by which to entice the Joneses to get out and spend/borrow some money.  You see, 70 percent of the American economy is comprised of me and you spending cash, not saving it.

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