A Few Minutes With...An Old Friend

Brian and Me

Brian Miller (in photo, on left) is my oldest friend. That is, my friendship with him is the longest and most sustained such relationship of my entire life. We’ve been friends since the end of junior high school; as we both realized recently, we first met thirty years ago this spring.

Being friends with Brian was, and is, effortless. He was a good kid, and is a good man. Optimistic, steadfast, easy-going and unflappable, he was the perfect complement to the overly serious, moody introvert I was always in danger of becoming.

One of the best, most uplifting days of my recent roadtrip was being able to visit Brian and his family in northern Maryland for the better part of an afternoon and evening. We hadn’t seen each other in a few years but, within minutes, it was as if only a few days had passed.

We sat in his family room, and reconstructed the beginnings of our friendship, why we’ve been able to sustain it, and what we’d do differently if we were seventeen years old again (um…not quite as pathetic as it sounds. Really).

The conversation, below, is in .mp3 format.

Meandering...

When I travel, I have one goal that pre-empts everything else — efficiency.

In other words, how can I cover the most ground in the shortest distance and time possible. Of course, this leaves no time for collecting the experiences of travel. There is a starting point and an ending point. There is nothing in the middle — no lingering, no exploring, no surprises. In fact, half the fun is getting there sooner than the GPS predicted.

So when I set off from Vermont en route to Chapel Hill, N.C. with the idea that the blonde and I would “meander” I had my doubts that I would be able to resist the “beeline” impulse and, instead, actually relax and enjoy a trip planned around “whatever,” “wherever,” and “whenever.”

Surprisingly, it’s worked. Instead of looking for the straightest line, I’ve found some great roads and breathtaking scenery. And a confused wrong turn taken in a downpour becomes simply another enjoyable route to the same destination. The contrast is stark. When I joined an interstate for a brief 70-mile leg, it was like landing on another planet, its inhabitants obsessed with speed, seemingly panicking at their lack of margin. It was unnerving.

I’m enjoying myself. I’ve reconnected with an old friend and reminisced about the origins and sustainability of our friendship over three decades. I’ve been reminded that this is still a very rural, untouched country. I’ve spent an afternoon on a college campus chatting with students and faculty, feeling every one of my forty-four years. I’ve given myself margin, and not just in time, but in spirit and experience as well.

I also realized that my car is not the delicate flower I tell myself she is, and that she’ll be okay in all kinds of weather.

And, even though it rained all day yesterday, it wasn’t so bad — I came this close to Intercourse…Pennsylvania.

I'm Travelling. Here's My Baggage.

So I’m driving to Chapel Hill, North Carolina this week, and included in my luggage are some mixed feelings.

But first, some background:

There are two major reasons I’m driving 1,200 miles round trip instead of flying. First, as an experiment — does someone actually have to be bolted in their office to be productive, particularly if the work they are doing is mainly (a) thinking and advising; and (b) connecting and networking? We have great tools where I work: national broadband access, a virtual private network, VoIP phones. These tools, used intelligently, can be liberating; that is, since virtually none of my work is physical, the traditional “sit-at-your-desk-answer-your-phone” requirements don’t necessarily apply. I could make the argument that, although I am travelling on business, I am nearly as productive and “present” sitting in this hotel room as I am in my office for any given period of time.

Second — and here’s where I’ve packed the mixed feelings — I need to spend more time with my mistress.

Yes, it’s just a car. Owning it has made me a little neurotic, however, taking pride in silly little things like using it sparingly, never driving it in the rain, obsessing over its condition and cleanliness, and bragging about how few miles I put on it each season. In three years, I’ve put only 4,000 miles on it which, when you think about how much fun and joy the thing gives me, is a crying shame.

Yeah, right. So I need to get over that. This trip is the prescription.

I left Vermont yesterday afternoon a little later than expected (my wife had food poisoning, and the kids needed to be shuttled to various activities and obligations around town. Plus, I was procrastinating and still unsure I even wanted to go). It had been raining and overcast in the morning, but the weather broke and it was an absolutely stunning day for a drive.

Less than five miles out of town, I received an omen. A carload of teenage girls pulls alongside, squealing and giggling. One of them scrawls a note in lipstick on the passenger window of their Honda Civic; “I love your car” (only the word “love” was a heart. Awww…)

I think it’s going to be a good trip.

He's Back

Buddy is back. And he’s making waves. Again.

I did a fair amount of work for Buddy Cianci in the early 1990s, specifically as a consultant on two of his mayoral campaigns (including his 1990 comeback election). As a starry-eyed twenty-six year-old, I overlooked most, if not all, of the man’s flaws because, quite frankly, he was charming and witty and personable and magnetic and razor smart. And I was having a lot of fun.

As he did when first forced from office in 1984, Buddy has returned to Providence as a talk radio personality. This gives him a natural platform to stay relevant, engaged and visible. It is also a devastatingly effective outlet for his natural gifts.

I just hope he resists his worst impulses, stays out of politics, and just tries to be the best Buddy he can be.

Out of Control

Take a moment and look around your organization — and I don’t care if it’s your business or the department you work in, your family, your school, your church, or your kids’ soccer team.

Where does it draw its “order” and “control” from?

Does it rely primarily on processes, policies and procedures, and systems — in other words, does it rely on “the rules” to get the results it wants?

Or is it a place where a high degree of trust, communication, shared purpose, clarity of expectations, and a weave of abundant information sharing and connection exist? In other words, does it draw its order, functionality and efficiency from “relationships”?

What motivates people in that organization to act — “have to,” or “want to?” The difference is very, very significant.

Rules, or relationships — where would you rather work, play and live?