June 2009: Annual Health and Fitness Letter

I have had the habit of writing about health and fitness in first the July and more recently the June issues of this letter. It is important to write about this for me, since living well and right is a lifelong challenge for me. I have written about diet and cycling. This year I will write about the concept of stress.

Well, first off, I have to acknowledge that I allowed myself to backslide over the past year and a half. I remained a vegetarian but I lapsed and ate too much and too much of the wrong foods. My biggest weaknesses are chocolate, sweets, and plain old simple overeating.

The secret formula of eating right and getting to a naturally good weight and lean body has not changed. It is to eat as little fat and simple carbohydrates as possible. This means, for me, the basic Ornish diet: no meat, no white sugar, no white rice, no white flour, and to avoid processed foods which tend to be rich in fat and simple carbohydrates. When I do this I am full without overeating. I stay full longer and if I snack, it is dried fruit and roasted chick peas.

I would like nothing more then to blame this on the stress of the economy, my job situation, impending weddings, and what else? I could blame global warming, the North Korean missile launches, the Taliban, and perhaps even Pluto being officially declassified as a planet in our solar system.

The bottom line is stress and the subsequent trying to eat through it. First, I had to stop overeating and get back to eating style outlined above. No matter what other motivations I may have, the weddings of my children are on the horizon and frankly, I would like to look as good as I can in the photos.

Secondly, the motivation to live as long and as healthy as possible is still very real. The goal was to be able to know my grandchildren and share in their lives as much as possible. I would love to be at their weddings and dance with them.

Enough of this, I have covered all this in other letters.

The questions that I am wrestling with are why I have stress and why I allow it to ruin my dietary style. The breaking of this cycle is important to me. As a casual observer of people, I also believe it is very important to others.

It will also help me in terms of mental health as well. You are probably wondering what the heck I am talking about right about now. I guess I am talking about putting it all together to work towards both physical and mental health and fitness. Or so I profess.

Stress has two effects on me. First, as already laid out, it makes me want to eat through it. I am not alone in this. Many people eat their way through whatever their problems are, whatever they think their problems are. The foods that are available people like me are salty, sweet, or fatty. They taste good but are horrible for us. No one eats a bag of carrots to deal with stress. We eat a pound of Oreos. We eat a pint of Häagen-Dazs. Or, we do both. The sugar high helps only as long as the sugary spike lasts. And, that is not very long at all.

Second, stress also causes a paralysis that saps my will to act. So, it seems worthwhile to look at stress since it is apparently the root of all my, and let me use the scientific term here, stupid behavior.

What is stress? There is a biochemical component to this. In a state of stress, the body reacts chemically. For the greater part of mankind, stress was the reaction to a very real danger. Fight or flight was a very real choice that had to made instantly… for survival. Without getting too deeply into it, the adrenal gland releases hormones that spike the sugar level in the blood to fuel either the fight or flight. When faced with T. Rex or an invading horde, this is a most natural and very necessary reaction. When faced with a dictator boss at work outburst or an unreal traffic jam on your way to the airport, the same mechanism can kick in. In the later case, where does that sugar spike and energy rush go? If you are one who loves to fight or can translate this calmly into action, it probably fuels your activity. Otherwise, it is like eating too much sugar, you spike and then crash. It can begin an overeating cycle of spiking and crashing.

Fight or flight? I rarely choose the fight option. Why am I not choosing the fight option? These two manifestations of stress may well be related. Binge eating of simple carbohydrates and fatty foods cause these dramatic ups and downs. The downs, which I believe there are lot more of than the highs, probably re-enforce the paralysis and certainly the lethargy. Crazy as it sounds. I know this to be true about me and see it others as well.

I am slowly becoming convinced that stress does not exist. It only exists between my ears. It is contrived. I allow others people and sometimes events to create it. Dr. Wayne Dyer, a Detroit native and a fellow Wayne State University alumnus, was featured on PBS television a few weeks ago. He made this exact point. He said “there is no stress in the world.” He challenged the audience to go out and come back with a bucket of stress. He then said no one could complete the challenge. Why? Simply stress does not exist.

I have seen this and know that it certainly can be true. The problem is that I have witnessed this and seen it to be true only a select few. Allow me to illustrate what I mean by looking at an all too common situation. Let’s say something goes awry or off the plan at work. The boss, a surly SOB, explodes, motivates, berates, and possibly threatens your job. How do people react? Why do some people, eat their way through this, drink their way through it, or just stop with that deer in the headlights look? More importantly, why do a select few just take it stride like it were nothing really big, add a few items to their to-do list, and get to rectifying things?

What is the nature of this second and admirable class of people? Are they immune to stress? Do they just suppress it? Re-channel it to the task at hand? Are they fighters? Are they smarter, more organized? Are they simply advanced life forms?

You can tell that this is something that I have thought about for a very long time. Here is what I think I know about the people that have a non-stress reaction to what could be a most stressful situation. Sure they have a sense of urgency but there is no stress. They do not blame themselves. They understand the nature of the boss and that this is the way he or she will always react to such situations and thus do not take it personally.

There is a definition of stress that I have always loved. There are variations on this, but I have always liked this one. In fact, I like it so much that I have committed it to memory:

Stress is the most unnatural suppression of the most natural urge to choke the living shit out of some asshole that desperately deserves it.

Apologies. I do not often use profanity in these letters, but the use here is critical to the definition.

Even this humorous definition supports the points I am trying to make here. It is all in the mind. And, stress is caused by other people. Others are not actually creating stress; they are just being themselves, moronic, self-serving, maniacal as that may be. The stress inside of us is simply how we react to them.

Why do some of us have road rage while others weather it cool, calm, and collected? It is the same thing as the surly boss and the humorous definition. It is how people react to the situation so differently.

Well I understand this semantically. I even understand it philosophically. Sure stress is just a concept. But, it is a very real concept; at least the resultant behavior is very real. Road rage is real. Binge eating is real. Depression is real. But, so is the positive reaction.

Let’s go back to the surly boss. Why is it that some people crumble and are paralyzed by the surly boss outburst, while others just shrug it off and get to rectifying things? There is even a class of people who use the stress as fuel. These fighters look for chaos and conflict, they thrive on the fight. They look for the fight. They get power from winning every fight they can. They clearly apply the fight principle to every issue in their lives.

Can we change our basic reaction to stressful situations? Clearly, whatever coping mechanisms we have, fight, flight, fear, paralysis, binge eating, or some combination of all seem well ingrained. We cope and somehow get things done, some better than others. After all of these other questions, there is a big one that is the point of this letter. Can we eliminate stress i.e. change the way we react to stressful situations? Clearly, I have been thinking a lot about this. Yes, lots of thinking but no real good answers.

Change is possible. But, it is not easy. We have learned how to react from our earliest years. We have learned to cope with parents and teachers telling what to do and not to do. We have learned to react to their feedback, positive and negative, constructive and not so constructive, from an early age. I used to make fun of the way psychotherapists used to have patients revert to their childhood to find the root cause of the issues.

I am reading a book entitled Stop Self Sabotage by Pat Pearson. It is pretty good. The Wayne Dyer program on PBS was entitled Excuses Begone. Both are focused helping people get out of their own way and increasing the probability that we actually achieve what we want. Dyer began by talking about stress. Pearson never really talked about it. But they both got to the same point of providing advice on how to get rid of the excuses and barriers that cause us to stall and come up short against our dreams. Failing whether at weight loss, business, love, or whatever can be stressful if it is a recurring theme in one's life.

It is a cliché but admitting the problem or recognizing the issue is the first step toward changing the situation. The pundits all say variations of the same thing. We must work to recognize the stressful situations, how we react to them, and gradually change the behavior of reacting to these situations.

Pat Pearson talks about self-esteem and self-confidence. She looks at them as independent factors. They can be either high or low. Clearly, we want to be in a state where both are high and we do not want to be in a condition where both are low. The interesting concept is the interaction where one is high and the other is low. I am not sure if I have high self-esteem and low self-confidence or vice-a-versa. I am still sorting that out. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

Another cliché is to envision the behavior you would like to model. In this case, I would like to be like those calm, cool, and collected folks that do not really react to the stress inducing surly boss. They take the pertinent points and turn them into action items which they knock off effectively and efficiently. That is what I would like to be.

Certainly, in truly stressful situations, physical emergencies that involve life and death or just work related crises of epic proportions. There is no time to think. There is only time to act. When there is a fire in a warehouse, you work to get it put out and then work to get product flowing again. There is no time to contemplate anything. In true stressful emergencies, events dictate your response. Even the surly boss doesn’t matter.

In non-emergency situations, I have been like that for short periods of time. It is a good feeling. Paralysis just adds to the stress which leads to a deeper paralysis et cetera. Binge eating adds to the spikes and drops in sugar levels, which also sustains stress. Then we induce more stress because we are not accomplishing what we want professionally or health wise. Maybe I need to develop an act first think later approach to life. That will be tough.

In reading over this letter, part of me wonders why I am subjecting anyone else to these true confessions. Another part of me feels very good to just write about this and get it off my chest. It is refreshing to do this.

I am embarking on a new business. I am joining my friend Ara Surenian in an Demand Planning and Inventory Management Consulting business (www.demandcaster.com). There is stress here. While trying to decide to do this, I felt like I was at the edge of a cliff and afraid to take that first step, that leap of faith. After awhile, I got a little of the Nike attitude: Just do it. I was stressing out about that first step. Sure, I have worked for large companies my entire career. There is a steady paycheck, but there is a lot of other nonsense that one must also deal with. Maybe I was not standing at the edge of a cliff but rather on the edge of a curb. I will never know until I take that first step. What is there to be afraid of? Nothing. I can hear Franklin Delano Roosevelt saying that the only thing I “have to fear is fear itself.” And this fake fear causes real stress that messes with me mind and body. It is as I said earlier in this letter, just plain stupid.

Surely, these habits can be changed. It is not easy and I know it will not be easy for me. But, I feel I must try. So for the next year, I am dedicating myself to both physical and mental health. I would like to see if I can put it all together: eating right and thinking right. Eating right and exercising is hard enough, thinking right to minimize stress and maximize my effectiveness, I think will be even harder. But, I am going to give all of this a shot. It could be very exciting. It should be the best year ever.

May 2009: Can You Believe it’s 1947?

In July 2008, our Aunt Rose Marie Gavoor passed away. In her final years, she was a resident of the Riverwoods assisted living and nursing care facility in Exeter, New Hampshire. My father, my Uncle Buddy, Judy, and I went to clean her things from her small room/apartment at Riverwoods. Many of her household goods had already been in storage since she had left her home in Rye some years ago. While she was living, these items were passed along according to her wishes to extended family members. As Uncle Rouben and Aunt Rose Marie never had children, their nieces and nephews were like their children and their great and even great grand nieces and nephews were like grandchildren and great grandchildren. Most of their furnishings are in our homes now and we remember them every time we walk across a rug here or set sometime on chest of drawers there. It is a good thing and a good way to keep those we love in our lives and hearts on a daily basis.

In July, we were going through Aunt Rose Marie’s correspondence, photos, and other memorabilia. Basically, these were the things she saved from her life that defined her life, that were important to her. I was impressed by her organization and care with which she kept so many things in such a small room.

She had the menu from the St. Regis where they had their first dinner as a married couple. I was glad she had saved that. It put things in a certain perspective. For $3-4, the price of a cup of coffee in a fine New York City restaurant today, they were able to get a prime rib dinner with side dishes and desert. Amazing.

What really caught my attention was a letter. It was written on that ultra thin bluish Air Mail stationary that was so popular in the early days of Air Mail. I did not recognize the name of the sender. It was not an Armenian and certainly not a relative. It was from a friend of theirs. I am even having trouble remembering if it was from a man or a woman.

Both Aunt Rose Marie and Uncle Rouben took their correspondence seriously. Having been in the US Foreign Service, they had friends and acquaintances from everywhere they had lived: New York, Washington DC, Nepal, Sudan, and Yugoslavia. They knew people in most of the major European countries as well as throughout Africa and Middle East. Uncle Rouben always used to ask us, the grand nieces and nephews if we were “keeping up with our correspondence.” They corresponded with us all and expected us to write back. We would hear from them if we did not respond in a timely manner to their letters. None of us ever wanted to get the letter with his famous biting catch phrase, “In spite of your callousness, we love you just the same.” Whenever we get together, someone will always invoke this famous Uncle Rouben quote.

So, I opened this Air Mail envelope to see who it was from and what it was about. The first line just struck me: “Can you believe it’s 1947?” The impact and amusement of this little question kept growing. I had thrown away the letter thinking then that it was not too important and we were already saving so many things. But since then, I have been more and more fascinated with the memorable opening line. I now wish that I had saved it.

This is not so much about time management as the passage of the time. People are always saying, “I cannot believe how fast the summer has gone.” Older parents are always telling new parents, “Enjoy the time. It will go faster then you think. In a blink of an eye they will be graduating from high school and leaving home.” Time does seem to accelerate as we age, doesn’t it?

I have heard the phrase, “Can you believe it’s…” 1985, 1991, 1999, 2004, fill in the blank. But the years that I have heard are the years that I have been living. This is why, “Can you believe it’s 1947?” struck me in such a way. 1947. It could have been 1938, 1924, 1855, or even 932. Basically, the year was before my time, before my parents were even married.

It struck me so, because I think of accelerating time as something of this modern age. I had believed it was due to the whir and hum of modern life, our 24/7 lifestyle, the time consuming inter-connectivity of the electronic media, the internet, cell phones, movies anytime we want them. I thought the hustle and bustle of the business world, the commuting to and fro, and managing the various family activities keep us all more engaged than ever making time just zoom along.

Apparently, that is not the case. Time was accelerating for the friend that wrote Aunt Rose Marie. He or she was astonished that it was already 1947. 1947 less than a year and half after the end of World War II… 1947.

What happened in 1947? Back then I would have had to go to the library and seek out almanacs and encyclopedia year books to find out. Now, the internet allowed me to quickly present this summary without leaving my desk, to simply toggle between Microsoft Word and a few internet pages. In 1947, unemployment in the US was 3.9%, it was the beginning of the era of true American dominance in the world. Domestic postage in the US was a mere 3¢ versus the current 44¢ which will, no doubt, soon grow. 1947 was the year the Marshall Plan was proposed to assist the recovery the European nations recover from the ravages of the war. It was the year that Jackie Robinson joined the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Yankees and Dodgers played in the World Series with the Yankees taking it 4-3. Harry Truman was president of the United States and Joseph Stalin was the General Secretary of the Communist Party and leader of the USSR. It was the year Henry Ford died. It was the year Thor Heyerdahl traversed the Pacific on his raft called the Kon-Tiki. Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier in 1947.

So, this phenomenon of time accelerating and zooming along is not only of my time. I wonder if Socrates, Columbus, or Beethoven had such thoughts. Why does time seem to accelerate? Why are we astonished that it is 1947 or 2009?

The best explanation for this seeming accelerating passage of time came when I was an undergraduate. It came from a mathematics professor as only they can observe things. I wish I could remember. I am guessing it was Alan Baum, Ron Morash, or Bob Fakler. I can envision either of them telling me this. Simply put, we think time is accelerating because each passing year accounts for a lesser percentage of our net experience. OK… I may have lost you here. Let me explain it the way it had to be explained to me.

Let’s say you are 1 year old. The next year will end up being 50% of your entire experience. If you are 9 years old, the next year comprises 10% of your entire experience. With each passing year, the next year is a smaller percentage of your life of your living experience. If you are 24, your 25th year is 1/25th or a whopping 4% of your entire experience. No wonder that time seems like it is accelerating. When you are 49 years old, the next year is 2% of your experience.

Let’s call this the Diminishing Experiential Theory (DET) of why time seems to zip along faster with each passing year.

Of course, I tried to find explanations for this on the internet. I searched on a variety of phrases and words. When I searched on “acceleration of time,” Google provided all kinds of pages and sites expounding on Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. In fact, when searching on anything using the words “acceleration” or “time.” Basically, the Theory of Relativity is based on the speed of light being constant versus the basic belief that most of have that time is constant. In the Theory of Relatively time slows down the closer we get to the speed of light. To add to the science fiction of it, time progresses more slowly in higher gravitational fields.

The classic Theory of Relativity tale is of a fellow who goes off on a two year space trip at speeds near the speed of light. Upon returning, he is shocked to find that fifty plus years has elapsed. The DET certainly seems at least as plausible an explanation for the relativity of time as experienced on planet Earth.

I got a lot more interesting responses using phrases like “years going by faster.” This avoided all the serious relativity sites and provided some humorous insights. One link took me to a dating site called Plenty of Fish. Oh my, I just admitted to my wife, mother and daughter that I had just been to a dating page!!! Someone posed a question in on a chat page… gee I keep digging a bigger and bigger hole for myself.

Anyway, the question posed was “Does it seem the older you get the faster the years go by?” A fellow named Nowhere Man basically laid out the DET. It resonated with most though someone did post that “Nowhere Man clearly has too much time on his hands.” Some of the postings were pretty funny. UrbanX got me laughing with this one:

It's related to Einstein's Theory of Relativity as someone indicated, but not really in the way they indicated. When you're young, your head is closer to the ground and as you age it moves further away. This is not only due to your height increasing, also due to working in office towers and flying on airplanes. This is the tricky part, so pay close attention to my fingers. As your head is further away from the ground, it is actually rotating faster than the ground and is thus closer to the speed of light. Relativistic effects kick in and the calendar, which runs on the timescale of the ground, moves more quickly than you do. Hence, the feeling that time is moving faster as we age. It quite literally
is. http://forums..com/5787565datingPostpage2plentyoffish.aspx

This ties it all together. Further evidence that UrbanX is onto something is that when we get really old, we shrink and time begins to progress at a slower rate again. Well, at least I may have that to look forward to.

I have been out of a job since the end of October. What I cannot believe is that it has been six months. This time has just raced by. I have never had a six month period that has gone so quickly. I actually thought it was just me, but it seems to be a nature of the beast. A few of the Newell disenfranchised meet for lunch every few weeks to bolster each others spirits and provide support. Last time we met, Mike mentioned that he could not believe how fast the time has gone. The rest immediately agreed and expressed what I had been thinking that it was just me. Thankfully, we realized it was the nature of our situation.

Why is this?

I believe it is the difference between regular working time and heavy internet usage time. Job searching this days involves a lot of time on the internet, hitting the job boards, working LinkedIn, and using e-mail even more heavily than when we were working. Internet time certainly moves faster than regular time. It is truly another example of the relative nature of the passage of time.

Here are some different perspectives…

I can believe on May 19th, my sister Laura would have been fifty-one years old. I cannot believe it is going on seven years since she passed away.

On the same day, I learned that our dear friend Jack Papazian passed away. I learned on April 14th that he was diagnosed with Creutzfeldt-Jacob disease. This degenerative neurological disease is fast moving, incurable, and fatal. I cannot believe that the disease took him so quickly, basically one month.

Jack was only sixty-nine years old. When I was twenty, I believed that sixty-nine was old. Now, I believe that he died way too young.

Death stops and footnotes the time of our lives. We all remember where we were and what we are doing. Where were you when Princess Di died? Where were you when President Kennedy was assassinated? We remember those moments like they were yesterday.

But it is not just the sad moments. It is the happy moments.

I vividly recall May 23, 1981 when my son Aram was born. I remember it vividly and it does seem like 28 years.

We have a couple of other happy moments coming up this year. Do I believe that I my children are getting married this year? No not at all. Has it been a blink of the eyes since they were born? Not really. Even with the amount of business travel I had, I really truly enjoyed the time being with them, watching them grow, and believing I had some influence in that process.

I really cannot believe it is 1947… er… 2002… I mean 2009.

April 2009: The Armenian Genocide Yet Again

My Little Ben Pipe: It wasn’t yet April. I was already thinking about my April letter which has been Armenian and Armenian Genocide themed. This year shall be no different.

It was Sunday, March 29th. We woke up to a snow storm. We just had one of those late season storms of wet snow that clung to every limb and twig of every tree making for a beautiful sight. The two inches of snow was too heavy to shovel and I knew it would melt by days end or the next day for sure. If it were dry snow, it would have been easily 8-10 inches.

True to my prediction, by late afternoon the snow was pretty much gone from all the paved surfaces, the sun was out, and it was a beautiful and unseasonably cold day. So, I decided to take a short bike ride outside rather than ride in the basement, stationary, in front of the TV. I bundled up in fleece, windbreaker, long spandex, a hood, sunglasses and helmet and took off on my oldest bike that I do not really care how wet or grimy it gets.

I felt good at the end of the ride and was acclimated to the temperature. I thought I would enjoy the last few minutes of daylight by smoking my pipe. It is a little pipe, a wee bit of a pipe that one closed hand can conceal. It is curved and so short that when I light it, I have to be careful not to burn my nose!

So why do I smoke this pipe? There are two reasons. I like it because it has a small bowl that makes for a short enjoyable smoking leaving me wanting more. The second reason is more important and thematic for this letter: the pipe is from Armenia.

I picked up this little pipe in Vernissage the open air weekend craft and flea market in Yerevan. Like many tourists, Vernissage is a must stop on a Saturday morning to buy souvenirs of the land, relics of the Soviet era, carvings, weavings, rugs, instruments, knick-knacks, books, bootleg music, and most anything else the enterprising locals might think of selling. We would start off as a family, but scattered here and there, never too far, based on what caught our eye. I would gravitate to musical instruments, soviet relics, and cool crafty things. My wife? She was attracted to table clothes, decorative bowls, and the like.

An old man had a small table with wooden items that I presumed he carved. That is always a presumption because there is a small but definitely non-zero probability that the knick-knack that catches your eye might actually be made in China or Vietnam. On this table, were a few of these little pipes. They were cute and ever so cheap, just a couple of dollars. So, I picked one up, gave it the once over, and noticed two words stamped on the briar where the mouth piece attaches Ben and under it in Armenian the same thing. So, I bought it without even bargaining assuming it was made in Armenia by this old fellow.

Usually, this Ben denotes the second letter of the Armenian alphabet. It made me wonder if this were the name of the man’s little company. Maybe it meant it was also his #2 model and the other were other models, the Ayp or #1 and perhaps even a Geem or #3 pipes.

I never gave the pipe another thought. We got home and I put it in my desk drawer. The pipe moved with the desk from Connecticut to Illinois.

Truth be told, I smoke the pipe a few times a year. But each time I smoke it, all I think about is where I bought the pipe. I think it being carved out of a chunk of an Armenian tree by the carver/vendor that I bought it from in Vernissage. I think of the memorable afternoon my Uncle Rouben, Cousin Charlie, and I smoked on Uncle Rouben’s front porch in Rye, New Hampshire on a lovely August late afternoon in 1981.

This time I smoked my Armenian pipe and pondered the above as well as the future of Armenia and the Armenian community in the Diaspora. I thought of my grandparents and how they survived. I thought of the current politics in Turkey and Armenia. Are they headed toward a resolution and understanding that will allow for an opening of the border and freer trade? What may either side concede regarding what happened in 1915? Will the government of Armenia give up on Karabagh? If the border opens, will it begin a slow Turkification of Armenia? Good thing the bowl of the pipe is small and all this pondering lasted a merciful fifteen minutes.

I may have to get a pipe from a neutral country like Switzerland.

Muzaffer Ertürk: In early February, I was listening to my favorite music on YouTube; that music that is smack dab in the overlap of Armenian and Turkish cultures. Not only that, I was listening to the music of Elazig or Kharpert, what could have been my hometown in the Armenian Highlands now more commonly referred to as Anatolia. I was listening to the music of a relatively unknown but very good singer, Muzaffer Ertürk, and his very very good band. His songs have the names of Husenik, Dersim, and Harput. They are the old songs, folk and otherwise, of the region.

I was mesmerized. Who is this fellow Muzaffer Ertürk? I polled people I thought would know him. I wrote Ara Dinkjian and Ozan Aksoy. No one I know is more connected and knowledgeable about Turkish music and musicians than these gentlemen. Neither of them heard of Ertürk. They both were most impressed with the You Tube videos. The simple fact is that Muzaffer Ertürk was not on any of our radar screens. I went to Tulumba.com to see if he had any CDs I could order. There was nothing. Evidence of his talent to the likes of me is only available on You Tube.

So, I took advantage of the You Tube functionality and sent a message to one of the people that posted these videos. I chose Palulu1907 and sent a You Tube message. He responded and we exchanged a few e-mails.

Palulu is from Elazig and is twenty-one years old. He loves the music of the region as I do and is a major fan of Muzaffer Ertürk. He has posted twelve music videos, ten of them feature Ertürk. I had favorited several of Palulu’s postings so we had a common ground before our e-mails. Palulu did not know Muzaffer Ertürk nor did he know how to get a hold of him. Too bad, I will keep trying.

Here is the e-mail Palulu sent to me:

Hello. I thank for mail. My english very bad. Bende Elazığlıyım. We own same culture with you. Politicians and some people are affected because our brotherhood. I love to Muzaffer Ertürk but I have his e-mail address.I love to Turkish Folk Music. I love to armenian :)

His English is impressively better than my Turkish. Also, his message was clear and heartfelt. I agree with his eloquent thoughts.

Ahçiği Yolladım Urum Eline: Palulu sent me another song he posted, Ahçiği Yolladım Urum Eline. He said it was about a Turkish man in love with an Armenian girl. His original posted has since been removed for “user terms violations.” Needless to say the Armenian in me suspects that the Turkish Government somehow took this down in their continuing oppression of anything Armenian. I know it is paranoid, but that was my first reaction.

Luckily, there are other postings of this same song. Here is another version of Muzaffer Ertürk singing the same song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIGtOV8_pS4. Some were surprised to find this song on the TRT network: Turkey’s one and only public broadcasting network. The surprise was rooted in the abovementioned paranoia as TRT is under the Turkish Government.

My friend Melissa Bilal, an Armenian from Istanbul working on a PhD at the University of Chicago, found the words to the song. She provided a translation which my cousin Sandy’s husband Bedros helped with some of the colloquial points. I provide both below.

Ahçiği Yolladım Urum Eline (Ahçik)

Elazığ-Enver Demirbağ-Zülküf
Altan-Mehmet Özbek
Ahçiği Yolladım Urum Eline
Eser Bad-ı Saba Zülfün Teline
Gel Seni Götürsem İslam Eline

Serimi Sevdaya Salan O Ahçik
Aman O Ahçik Civan O Ahçik

Vardım Kiliseye Baktım Haçına
Gönlümü Bağladım Sırma Saçına
Gel Seni Götürem İslam İçine

Serimi Sevdaya Salan O Ahçik
Aman O Ahçik Civan O Ahçik

Vardım Kiliseye Hac Suda Döner
Ahçiği Kaybettim Yüreğim Yanar
Ben Dinen Dönersem El Beni Kınar

Serimi Sevdaya Salan O Ahçik
Aman O Ahçik Civan O Ahçik

Translation:
I sent the girl to Greeks place
Soft breeze is blowing on fine hair
Come and I’ll take you to Muslim home

Went to church looked at cross
My heart got tied up to her beautiful hair
Come and I’ll take you to Muslim home

I arrived to the church, the cross above the baptismal water.
I lost the girl, my heart is burning,
If I change my religion, everybody will make fun of me.

The words are nothing special. A Turkish friend said that “the song is very cute.” But for an Armenian, half a world away from an ancestral city he has never visited, the song strikes a deeper chord. It is another point of proof that we were there. That it is still performed and listened to today provides another grain of sand to the long overdue closure process. The Armenian girl is referred to using the Armenian Word for girl, ahçig.

But to me, the music is soulful and heavy. It resonates where, to me, the Armenian and Turkish cultures overlap. It resonated deeply and richly.

Brothers Fighting?: I have a friend, John Vosbikian, he has a unique sense of humor. He is an excellent clarinet player, heavily influenced by the Turkish style. When other Armenian musicians would bring up an artist from Turkey, say Muzzaffer Ertürk, John would often say “you know that he is half Armenian.” The response to this was always, “No! Really?” John would retort, “Oh yeah, his mother is Armenian” or something like that. As John was very convincing, people would often believe him and go forth perpetuating the myth he had just created.

But to me, John did have something. As I watch You Tube postings of this music, I cannot help but think that most of the Turks I see could pass for Armenians or vice-versa. It is not the first time I have thought this and I have even thought it about other ethnic conflicts where the combatants, the opposing sides, all look alike.

The musicians in the Ahçiği Yolladım Urum Eline video could be Armenian as much as they are Turkish. The instruments are straddle both cultures: tar, saz, oud, duduk, and kemanche.

Growing up, I have to admit that I was confused and most certainly naïve in my confusion about the apparent sameness of combatants. When considering the English and Irish issues, I never could understand what they were fighting about. To me, as a youngster I could not tell the difference between them. They looked the same to me. They even sounded the same to me. I just did not understand what all the fuss was about. I was indeed naïve. I now can sometimes see differences in facial features and accents. But overall, my childhood impression still holds.

The same principle applies to other conflicts. Consider the Arabs and Israelis, the peoples are both Semites. Shalom Aleichem. Salaam Alekhum. What gives? A slight difference in pronunciation and they are mortal enemies? How about the Balkans? Are the Serbs, Croats, Bosnians so different?

Yes, some will write me and talk about differences in language and religion and that I have oversimplified the anthropology of the two peoples. They may be right, but this year, for some reason, I am looking more at common ground.

The answer to these questions is, of course, a matter of perspective. The farther one is away from it, the less critical the differences. When you are born into it and reared in rhetoric of the conflict, the differences are glaring.

Bele vs. Lokai: There was an episode of the original Star Trek television series that fascinated me. It was entitled “Let that be your last Battlefield.” It was the 70th episode in the series and aired first on January 10, 1969.

The basic story is of the last two survivors of the planet called Cheron. Their names were Lokai and Bele. They were the last of the two warring peoples of this planet. The two races are half black and half white. Bele is from the race that is white on the left side and black on the right. Lokai is the opposite. The crew of the Enterprise could at first not tell the difference and even when they understood the mirror image physical difference, they could not fathom the hatred. Frank Gorshin played Bele and was nominated for an Emmy for intense raw energy he put into this role.

Well, it was the 1960s. TV was all about reflecting the racial turmoil the country was going through. This episode aired nine months after the assassination of Martin Luther King (April 4, 1968).

I did not watch this episode when it first aired. I watched it well after the show was in syndication. I was fascinated and amazed. It took me back to the creation myth of the Armenian people when the good and righteous Hayk fought the evil dark hearted Bel and won creating the Armenian or Haykakan nation. I kept wondering if there were an Armenian writer on the Star Trek team who decided to name the more memorable character Bele.

I guess this year I am seeing similarities not differences and wishing this space was more populated.

March 2009: Newport Coffee

For the first two years of this letter, the March letter was about my travels in Latin America. The March 2004 was entitled Letter from Buenos Aires and was just that. In March of 2005, I wrote about Mexico. I thought that I would be dedicating each March letter to reflecting on someplace that I travelled. It should have been easy to, or so I thought, as I was pretty much a road warrior working in the Latin American Division of Colgate-Palmolive.

But, it did not turn out that way. Other topics seemed more important each of the next three years and so, I wrote about them. Each March, however, I would think about someplace to write about. The problem was quite simple; I was not travelling as much and certainly not abroad.

This March is no different. I wanted to write about someplace I have been and enjoyed. I wanted to share the thoughts I had there and the people that I met. While having this intention is one thing, I am really not travelling anywhere these days. The last time I was on a plane was the first week of November 2008 when I went to Knoxville to speak at the University of Tennessee Supply Chain Forum. In January of this year, I drove to Detroit for a weekend. The stark truth is that I am really no longer any kind of road warrior. This is the longest I have gone since the early 1980s without being on an airplane. I am actually trying to decide if this is good or bad. I am definitely leaning toward the “it’s good” side.

Stark as it might be, there are certain benefits to not being a road warrior. I am not dealing with airports, airport lines, airport security, flight delays, flight cancellations, and cramped crowded airplanes. I am not dealing with opening the door to yet another hotel room and feeling that “if this is Tuesday, I must be in Miami.” People tell me I look more rested and calm. That is no doubt a combination of avoiding the stress of the daily work grind and the stress of business travel. Yet, amid all these pluses, I will admit I do miss the movement, the change of venue, and seeing good friends and colleagues in distant locations especially Latin America.

Somehow, in this circumstance I have decided to renew the idea of an annual travel letter. The obvious question is what destination to write about? The idea I always had was to write the letter from that destination. I could write about Armenia, Uruguay, Chile, or Guatemala. I could write about Boston, Washington DC, or even Miami. But I chose someplace much closer to home… a mere 2.1 miles from my home. I want to write about the Newport Coffee House in Bannockburn, IL. I have written this entire letter from there.

Newport Coffee is a wonderful little place. It is a single store, sole proprietor business, with free WiFi and really good coffee. No really, the best coffee around. I have nothing against the chain stores I also frequent: Starbucks and Paneras. The prices and offerings, coffee-wise, at these stores are essentially the same. It is just a refreshing throwback to go this little one store operation.

I go there most afternoons for the past few weeks. They have free WiFi an absolute must for one seeking new employment or writing a monthly letter. There are three differences between Newport Coffee and the aforementioned chain stores. First, the music at Newport is at the perfect volume for me. The selection of music is very good, loud enough to enjoy, but not so loud that you cannot think, read, or concentrate. The music at Starbucks is offensively loud to me. This is probably because amongst everything else they offer, they sell music. Secondly, the clientele at Newport is different, more eclectic. This is because they attract a student customer base. Newport Coffee is the unofficial coffeehouse of the nearby Trinity International University. Even the non-student customers seem to come to read or work more eclectically.

The Trinity connection is interesting. I think most of the employees are either students or alumni of this university. Certainly, everyone that works there looks like a grad student clad in a very urban casual style of jeans and t-shirts.

Newport Coffee has a kind of Ann Arbor like feel to it; Ann Arbor of the 1970s that is. Most of the students that frequent the place may well be graduate students, they look like people from that era, longer scruffier hair, jeans, and interestingly different shirts. One day, a fellow was wearing an Cambridge University hoodie. Another day, another guy had what might have been the official sneaker of my college years: the Adidas Samba, that distinctively black leather with three white stripes indoor soccer shoe. Often, the male students have t-shirts with slogans or emblems I have never seen and thus making me wonder wherever did they buy such shirts.

But the clientele is not all students. It is a true mix of older professional folks, retirees, and housewives. It might just be me or it could be the ambience of the place that makes me think this but everyone seems simultaneously more relaxed, more interesting, and thinking deeper thoughts in Newport Coffee than any of the surrounding Starbucks.

What brings everyone in is no doubt the coffee. At the Newport Coffee website www.mynewportcoffee.com you will learn that they roast their coffee in small batches making very fresh, strong, and flavorful coffee. It is the best cup of coffee around here, I would dare say in all of Lake County. The big black roaster is off in the corner of the place surrounded by burlap sacks of beans from South America, Africa, and Hawaii.

Being the unofficial coffeehouse of Trinity College, it is amazing the books that students are reading. Most of the time, the student patrons have a few books stacked on the table plus the one they are reading. More often than not, one of the books is the Bible. Being a naturally curious person bordering on the nosey, I note the titles when I can.

One lady was reading a book entitled, A Peculiar People. I simply assumed that it was about Armenians and if not about Armenians I was certain that it would have a chapter dedicated on me or my friend Ara Topouzian. Amazon.com provided the truth. The subtitle of the book is The Church as Culture in a Post-Christian Society and attempts to explore the role of church and individual Christians in these times when both church and faith are seemingly less influential.

Another fellow was reading a book entitled Sub-Merge. Again, I was able to get the title but the subtitle was in too fine a print to read across the room. I assumed the book was a novel about submarine warfare or a dark psychological thriller. Again, I was wrong. The subtitle of this book, again thanks to Amazon, was Living Deep in a Shallow World: Service, Justice and Contemplation Among the World’s Poor. Wow, what a great phrase… Living Deep in a Shallow World. I immediately wanted to borrow the phrase for a future letter. But this phrase actually defines the clientele of this place. Most of the people I see in Newport Coffee seem to be living deeper or wanting to live deeper.

When I went to the Trinity International University website, www.tiu.edu, I found that the university is truly founded on Christian principles and has a decidedly Christian mission. From the About section of the website:

Forming students to transform the world through Christ. At the heart of Trinity’s mission lies its commitment to engage the culture for Jesus Christ. Trinity’s purpose is to enable its graduates—in all schools and in every discipline—to think and live like Christians in the twenty-first century. We believe that God calls his people into many kinds of service; Trinity’s calling is to prepare them to serve for his glory.

I would guess both A Peculiar People and Sub-Merge should be required reading.

The book that really caught my eye was Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck. It was the second to last book by this noted author and Nobel Prize winner. I read it back in 1971 as a freshman at the University of Michigan. It was the one book we had to read and comment on in the required freshman English Composition course. I kind of liked the genre and certainly liked Steinbeck’s writing. I recall that the Graduate Assistant who was our professor disparaging this book and suggesting that there were much better books by Steinbeck to read. He thought we should have been reading The Grapes of Wrath. I had already read most of Steinbeck’s classics and read The Grapes of Wrath in my sophomore year. I was glad to have been exposed to a book that I normally would not have read.

There is not much I recall about Travels with Charley except that I enjoyed it. It was the first real literary travelogue I read. Since then I have enjoyed other books in this genre. I really enjoyed In Patagonia by Bruce Chatwin and The Crossing Place: A Journey Among the Armenians by Philip Marsden. I never read Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s Motorcycle Diaries but I loved the film version.

I am amazed by these authors who take off on a trek, not sure of exactly the path they are taking or who they will meet along the way. I am even more amazed at the common people who welcome these travelers with open arms, tables, and homes. I am motivated to pick up Travels with Charley: In Search of America and see how I react to it thirty-eight years later.

Lastly, I was sitting in Newport one day, working on my laptop, perhaps even finishing up my February Letter. A young lady who works there was talking with a friend and customer. I was not really listening to what they were saying. But, I thought I heard the word Armenian used by the lady in the conversation but I wasn’t sure. I often think I hear the word Armenian being uttered. When I went up to the counter later for a refill, I asked her if she had used the word Armenian. She indeed had and informed me that she was Armenian. Her name is Nevair Jindoyan and had grown up in the All Saints Armenian Church in Glenview that I now attend. I think half of the church is actually related to her. She has a most lovely name, Nevair. It means gift in Armenian. I know only one other Nevair and always thought it was a lovely and special name.

I was even more delighted to find out that Nevair is actually the owner of Newport Coffee. She had just recently purchased it and was taking a year off from teaching to make the place her own and really learn the business.

There is another Armenian owned coffee or rather tea business in Chicagoland: Argo Tea www.argotea.com. They have thirteen stores of which twelve are in Chicago and one is in Evanston. The company was started by Arsen Avakian in 2003. Earlier this year when my son, Aram, was in town trying a case downtown we had an opportunity to stop by one of the stores. It was like 6:30 pm and the store was jammed. People, mostly younger, were working on their laptops or reading. There was music and people were talking but it was still someplace you could really concentrate if you needed to. It seemed lighter and airier than Starbucks. The main difference was the pots of different teas ready to be served. But it is not just a tea house. Argo Tea serves a wide variety of brewed and espresso coffee products as well. Certainly, Argo Tea is interested in growing but they seem to be doing it slowly and deliberately, a wise strategy in this economic environment.

It seems that I should facilitate Nevair who is interested in expanding her offerings into teas and is a coffee supplier to meet Arsen and explore how they might source each other products. Who knows?

So, you see? I was able to craft a travel letter without actually going very far. There is much to see in the world right around where we are. Maybe next year, I will buy a dog, a camper, and follow the route John Steinbeck took across this great land.

February 2009: Fifth Anniversary Letter

Wow… it has been six years. I penned and sent out my first letter in February 2004. This is my 61st letter. Just today I added two people to my distribution list taking the number to 347. I think I sent my first letter to about 30-40 people.

Back then I was not sure if there would be a second letter let alone a 61st. I really was not sure I would be able to sustain it. But I have and it has been a rich and rewarding experience. It has kept me in touch with the people closest to me.

I know that everyone that gets this letter does not read it. There are probably folks that barely read any. But, I get 10-20 people commenting on each letter and it is not always the same bunch. Some challenge my views, most add their own perspective, and all are encouraging.

In these five years only two readers have written and asked to be taken off of distribution. I did not like that but I cannot be everyone’s cup of tea. One lady a professional writer begged off after just a few issues. The second was just a few months ago and someone from South America that I really admired. I was a bit worried because it would be just like him to have taken gravely ill and not communicate that.

My confidence in writing has grown with each letter. I really was not sure when I depressed the mouse key to send that first issue. I am still skeptical every time I send one. Did I get it right? Will people like it? Is the topic relevant? I worry much less now. Readers, basically friends and family, really like the letters in which I reflect on growing up and the introspective letters. I should probably shy away from those that are more like term papers though these are sometimes the topics that interest me.

I even am thinking about an evolving career as a writer. In my current job search, I am exploring some options in that direction. Keep your fingers crossed, because doing something different would be kind of cool.

If something is bothering me, I like to write about it. It forces me to read what others have said on the subject and in the process of the reading and writing, I solidify my own views. To use the sophomoric word, it is cathartic (which the thesaurus has reminded me means therapeutic, liberating, beneficial, healing, energizing, or invigorating). It is all of these things mixed together. It liberates me from worrying so about something if I capture the essence and my take of it in a letter. The process is therapeutic, invigorating, energizing, and beneficial as well. It is also healing. I think in another ten years of writing about the Armenian genocide I should be all healed up. No, it will definitely take more than ten years for that.

Launching a Blog for these Letters: A few folks have wondered why I send my letter out by e-mail. My off the cuff answer is that it certainly saves in printing costs, postage, and the man-hours that would be involved to snail mail the letter to almost 350 people. But I knew what they were about to get to. They wanted to know why I was not posting my letters on a blog.

Blogs were around when I began this letter. Truth be told, I should have began with a blog. It would have been the right and cutting edge thing to do. So, why didn’t I do that? The answer is both simple and kind of, what is the technical term… ah yes… stupid: I was unsure of my self, my writing skills, having a public forum where anyone could read what I wrote and comment on it.

It was a matter of control. I wanted to send my letters to who I wanted to get them. I wanted the only path of feedback to be directly and privately to me. Posting everything on-line exacerbated these foolish fears. As for the first, I have never turned down anyone’s request to be put on distribution. To the contrary, I am honored that anyone wants to read these musings and meanderings. With regard to being overly sensitive maybe even paranoid about the feedback in a public forum that is hogwash on two counts. First, people have been very civil and for the most part complimentary in any feedback they have given. Secondly, and this one deserve a big “duh”, most blogs give you the option of allowing comments or not. If you allow comments, they also provide the option of reviewing and approving them before they are posted.

From Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_blogging_timeline, I learned that one Jorn Barger (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jorn_Barger ) first used the term weblog on December 17, 1997. In the second quarter of 1999, Peter Merholz (http://www.peterme.com/) had some fun with the term weblog by breaking it into two word “we blog.” Voila, the word blog was born and it has obviously stuck.

In that same time frame, the earliest blog like sites were called Open Diary and LiveJournal. In August of 1999, Evan Williams and Meg Hourihan created a site called http://www.blogger.com/. It was such a success that Google purchased the site in February of 2003. So clearly, blogging was already a well established phenomena when I wrote and sent out my first letter in February of 2004!

There is at least one blog dedicated to blogging. It is http://www.blogheral.com/. On April 14, 2005, they reported that there were over 50 million blogs worldwide. On February 11, 2008, the site reported:

…over 112.8 million blogs, a number which obviously does not include all the 72.82 million Chinese blogs as counted by The China Internet Network Information Center. Blog statistics often concern the English language blogosphere but we should not forget about the millions of other blogs that are not always included in estimations.

In the past few months, both Deb Devedjian and Gary Rejebian innocently asked why I had not begun a blog for this monthly letter. It was a good, sincere, and honest question. I gave it some thought and figured with there probably being over 200 million blogs on-line, the technology was sufficiently mature enough for me to join the trend.

I went to blogger.com and nosed around. I cannot say how incredibly easy it was to get my site up and running. Over a few weeks in January, I posted all my old letters on the site. I posted the January 2009 letter kind of real time i.e. I posted it when I mailed out the letter. I will do the same with this letter and moving forward. The website is: http://thissideoffifty.blogspot.com/

I like the look of it and glad I have finally got around to doing this. Immediately, I got one follower a nice lady named Anita Boser who has two blogs of her own: http://www.blogger.com/profile/17628246135385560400. I was impressed to get one follower so quickly. But, I got no others. And guess what, no one has posted a comment of any kind. Whatever was I concerned about?

My good friend Raffi Bandazian looked over the blog and gave some positive comments. I asked why he did not sign up as a follower. He responded that he RSSed the site. RS-what? Oh no, something new to learn… ugh.

RSS stands for Rich Site Summary and is basically a mechanism for people to get updates when the content has changed or been updated on sites they normally follow. Applications like Google Reader are used to manage ones news and websites of interest through RSS feeds. Sounds like a very good and powerful idea. The technology might be too new and untested. I will have to wait until the user base hits a couple hundred million!

Daily Writing & Pens: As you may recall, I handwrite a page every day and over the course of the month, a theme and a letter emerges. This past year, I have been typing my letter directly on my laptop. I still handwrite 26-28 days per month, the others I type.

Having departed Sanford, I am less loyal to their brands. That is not to say that I do not continue to use Sharpie’s, Waterman’s, Parker’s, and Uniball’s. I like all of these pens. What I am saying is that I have dusted off my Caran D’Ache pens and enjoy them once again. I am curious to see if they will become my pen of choice again. So far all signs are in that direction with the Sanford Brand Waterman in second place.

For awhile this year I was using fountain pens. From working at Sanford, I have four stylish Parker and Waterman fountain pens. They are very nice and a delight to write with, but they just run out of ink too quickly for my taste. I am a dyed in the wool ball point pen fan.

In the February 2008 letter, I was extolling the virtues of the Uniball Jetstream. It is a very good pen. Honestly, if you said that is all I could ever write with, I would be happy. But since I left Sanford, I have gravitated back to fine writing ball points and rarely use any throw away pens.

Memorable Writer: In my February 2006 letter, I wrote about a memorable piece I had read in the August 2, 1999 New Yorker. It was an article John Updike had written on the passing of John F. Kennedy Jr. At the time I read it, I thought it was a perfect piece of writing. It captured the essence of the moment, the iconic position of the Kennedy Clan, and the tragedies that has been associated with the family.

I was saddened to learn that John Updike passed away on January 27th. He was 76 years old. His prose was wonderfully descriptive. Some critics called described it as more flowery than substantive. I disagree.

He was prolific. He loved to write and once said:

“I would write ads for deodorants or labels for catsup bottles, if I had to,” he told The Paris Review in 1967. “The miracle of turning inklings into thoughts and thoughts into words and words into metal and print and ink never palls for me.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/28/books/28updike.html?fta=y

Here is a short example of his elegant and descriptive style.

A barn, in a day, is a small night. The splinters of light between the dry shingles pierce the high roof like stars, and the rafters and crossbeams and built-in ladders seem, until your eyes adjust, as mysterious as the branches of a haunted forest. David entered silently, the gun in one hand.... The smell of old straw scratched his sinuses.... the mouths of empty bins gaped like caves. Rusty oddments of farming — coils of baling wire, some spare tines for a harrow, a handleless shovel — hung on nails driven here and there in the thick wood. He stood stock-still a minute; it took a while to separate the cooing of the pigeons from the rustling in his ears. When he had focused on the cooing, it flooded the vast interior with its throaty, bubbling outpour: there seemed no other sound. They were up behind the beams. What light there was leaked through the shingles and the dirty glass windows at the far end and the small round holes, about as big as basketballs, high on the opposite stone side walls, under the ridge of the roof.
From the story “Pigeon Feathers.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/28/books/28excerpts.html?_r=1&fta=y

Annual Thanks: As usual, at the end of each of the last four February letters, I like to thank two people instrumental to bringing this rewarding project to life. My morning train friend, singer, and marketing/proposal writing wizard, Marilyn Zavidow, helped me name this letter, The Other Side of Fifty: A Monthly Letter of Musings and Meanderings. We did this taking the 5:30 am train from Westport to Manhattan. She looked at my draft mock up and made some suggestions. She thought about it overnight and came back with a few suggestions. I picked the one that I thought would best capture the essence of what I thought I was about to do. We definitely came up with the right title. I have mused and meandered for five years with every intention of doing this for as long as I can. Thank you Marilyn.

Check out Marilyn’s website: http://www.zavidow.com/.

I had been writing a page every day from June 25, 2002. The idea for a monthly came in January 2004 when I learned of the passing of an American Armenian man, living in Paris: Aram Kevorkian. Aram was a well known and highly regarded lawyer. I had not even heard about him until after he had passed away on December 20, 2003 at the age of 74.

Aram began writing a monthly letter in 1978. The Kevorkian Newsletter started off as a legal letter to update his clients on the nuances of French Law and any changes in statutes. It became something more, something bigger, and something deeper. Besides the law, he explored social issues, observed and commented on notable figures, and did so in a way that earned the great appreciation of his readers. The letter was mailed to 3,000 or so readers in over 70 countries.
Upon reading two issues of The Kevorkian Newsletter, I knew what I wanted to do with my daily writing. This e-letter is the result and I like to think a most modest continuation of Aram Kevorkian’s creation.

Here is a link to the New York Times obituary of Aram Kevorkian. http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9802E7D7113FF937A15751C1A9659C8B63

Thanks to all of you for your support and encouragement. Until next month.

January 2009: It Began with an Air Bath

January 19: There was a television mini-series I watched some many years ago. It was about the American Revolution. It might have even been about Benjamin Franklin, as the only parts I remember about this mini-series were about him. In fact, I only remember one part. This would be that Ben Franklin took an air bath daily. In the mini-series, he would stand naked in front of an open window letting the air bath and cleanse his body and soul.

Of course, I Googled “Ben Franklin air bath” and found many sites confirming the air bath story. A site dedicated to Franklin’s 300th birthday, www.benfranklin300.org, seemed the most official:

Did you know that Franklin was so sure that fresh air was important for good health that he took a daily “air bath”? He wrote to the French physician, Jacques Barbeu-Dubourg, describing it thus: “I rise early almost every morning and sit in my chamber, without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an hour, according to the season, either reading or writing.”

Not quite the visual impact of standing in front of an open window but definitely making Ben Franklin somewhat of a nudist.

This air bath idea popped into my head this past weekend and I decided to take my version, a fully clad version, of an air bath. Like Franklin, I believe fresh air is important to ones health. My belief is that really cold air cleanses the soul and gives provides a unique kind of solitude and clarity.

As Chicagoland and much of the Eastern US have experienced extreme cold temperatures, I got it in my mind to take a walk in the cold and refresh myself. At first, I thought to walk the neighborhood. A second and much better thought was to drive across town to the Lake Forest beach on Lake Michigan.

So I donned my boots, two layers of coats, the warmest gloves I could find, an anorak, and a hat. I drove down to the beach and walked. It was cold, the landscape was covered with more than a foot of snow, the sky was pure blue, the sun provided bright light and little warmth, and the wind was blowing… perfect conditions for my version of a wind bath.

I really should have done this last week when the temperature never got above -3 degrees Fahrenheit. While the temperature today was a balmy 14 degrees by comparison, it would suit my needs just fine.

There are two piers that define the boat launch. The mooring area was further cordoned off with jetties made of large rocks. I walked out to the edge of each of piers and looked out over the choppy water of the lake. It reminded me of being at Compo Beach in Westport, CT but without the salt air.

It felt great, all bundled up, no one around, the biting cold, and looking out over the lake. I like a view now and then when there I can see no evidence of humanity or any of our alterations to the landscape. Looking over the lake provided just that. Ice had formed on the jetty rocks, freezing in layers that made rings that looked like those on a tree trunk.

It was enjoying this moment when my thoughts drifted to the air baths of Benjamin Franklin. I laughed at the conceptual similarity and the glaring differences in our approaches. I have to assume, just because of his stature in history that he had it right. Though I must admit that I really enjoyed my version very much.

Thinking of Ben Franklin next had me reflecting on the history of the United States. I noted I was doing this on Martin Luther King Day and the day before Barack Hussein Obama was to be inaugurated as the 44th President of the United States.

I then realized that January 19th was also the second anniversary of the assassination of Hrant Dink (read my April 2007 letter). I stood there in the cold and a thought popped into my head: Hrant Dink is like the M.L. King of Turkey. When the country and the government honor him as such, maybe an Armenian or half-Armenian might be elected as the President or Prime Minister of Turkey.

January 20: It is Inauguration Day. I was up and out early. I went to a networking breakfast in Downtown Chicago sponsored jointly by the University of Michigan and Michigan State University Alumni Clubs. About fifty people came, partook of a surprisingly lavish breakfast buffet, and then participated in a rapid fire table to table networking session for an hour or so. About two-thirds of the participants were looking for a job or in-transition. I met some very nice people but no one that could probably help me.

When the session was over I had to drive to Oak Brook were I was meeting another fellow, Aravind, for yet another networking discussion over lunch. We decided to meet halfway between where I live and he works. We decided on the India House Restaurant in Oak Brook which ironically was right next to the Sanford offices.

As I drove there, I was listening to NPR coverage of the inauguration. If I were at home or almost anyplace else, I would have probably watched the historic event on television. Call me odd, but I enjoyed listening to the prayers, musical offerings, oaths, and acceptance speech on the radio. I listened to the commentators paint a picture of the surroundings and it fired a different image into my memory than watching it on television would have done. I probably heard the words of the prayers and acceptance speech more intently.

It still amazes me that we have an African American President. I thought when he announced his candidacy that he did not stand any chance of being elected. I thought the prejudice was too deep. Clearly, I was wrong. In the end, I even voted for him. What surprised me was not so much voting across some racial or prejudicial lines (I like to believe there are no lines in my head or heart to cross), but crossing the party line. I have voted Republican for President every year with the exception of voting for Ross Perot in 1992. Yes, that means I voted for W not once… but twice.

January 24th: I have an acquaintance here in Chicago. He is an attorney with an Ivy League undergraduate degree and his JD from the University of Chicago Law School. He told me that Barak Obama was his professor of Constitutional Law. He told me that “flat out Barak Obama is the smartest person I have ever met.”

Maybe it is in contrast to Bush, Cheney and their team. There is some buzz about the return of the best and brightest to government service. There is a feeling or buzz around that with the election of the Barak Obama that it is OK again for the best and brightest to consider a career in government service.

Of course, the best and brightest sword is two sided. John F. Kennedy brought in the best and brightest including McGeorge Bundy and Robert McNamara. This group of the best and brightest got us into the Vietnam War. When the best and brightest do not go into government, my theory is that they go into investment banking and finance at the highest levels. If this has been the case for the past ten years, then I have to add another word. This group of the best and brightest is also the greediest and engineered us into the worst recession/depression since the 1930s.

Frank Rich wrote an Op-Ed piece in the December 8, 2008 New York Times, “The Brightest are always not the Best” http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/07/opinion/07rich.html. It is worth reading, but be warned it could take the winds out of whatever optimism you are feeling after the inauguration. I do not recall reading that piece when it was published, but I must have since my views track too well with the first few paragraphs of his column.

There is at least another way to look at this. If the socio-economic conditions of this country are cyclic, we have to be near the bottom of the cycle. We have a new team coming in and taking over in a crisis. They are focused mostly on the elements of this crisis: the two wars, the banking system, real estate, and unemployment (gee whiz… did I miss anything). Part of me thinks that they will have to do better, things will have to improve. When you are standing on the South Pole any step you take will be northward.

To me, the country has the same feel as when Ronald Reagan was elected. People wanted him and his team to succeed. The economy was a mess and the Iranian Hostage Crisis had zapped our collective national will. Reagan swept in dawning an age of prosperity and military build-up that ended up bankrupting and causing the fall of the Soviet Union.

What are we expecting? What do we need from the Obama administration?

January 27th: It has been a week since the memorable inauguration. Yet, nothing has changed. I have not found employment yet. The recovery has not fully kicked in. Every turn of the TV News Channels, click to a news website, or turn on the old fashioned newspaper reports on this company letting 2,000 people go and that company eliminating 4,000 jobs.

Even though I seriously try to avoid reading depressing news, I could not pass up the breaking news today regarding the State of California. It seems that California is seriously considering sending out registered warrants, basically IOUs, in place of state income tax refund checks. The state has not had a positive cash flow since sometime in 2007. This is probably a ploy on the part of the state controller John Chiang to get the legislature and governator to pass enact some sound budget and tax legislation but it is very distressing news in a very distressed time.

“We are the eighth largest economy," Chiang said, speaking of California's rank among the world's nations, were it an independent country. But comparing it to other states, he said, "We have the 50th or we are tied for last in the credit ratings. We are a world economic power, but we have fiscal mismanagement in this state." http://worldnetdaily.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=87175

Luckily in Illinois where I live, we have Governor Rod Blagojevich and his ridiculous impeachment defense to take our minds off of the economy.

What are we expecting from the Obama administration? I think that people, the people, in general are expecting things to get better and to get better quickly. That is what I would like too, but it is not what I expect. It took months and years to get into this mess, it will take at least that to get out of it.

I would like to give the country an air bath like I took that I took on the January 19th. I would like to have a blast of cold air clear our collective minds and give ourselves a much more basic view of what our place and stature in this world should be. I would like to clear the cobwebs of excessive consumerism and “irrational exuberance” out of our collective minds.

It would be good if we could take a longer range view of many things such as the environment and global warming. I would like to see us invest in good basic research on how mass transit could really work in this country or at least parts of this country. I would like to see us have a more balanced view of politics in the Middle East and not just siding with Turkey and Israel as a default. I would like to see us pay a bit more for food and use that extra money (did someone say tax?) to ensure the safety of the food supply chain. Of course, I want everyone to think like me.

Personally, I would like to be able to smoke a cigar in more venues then is now allowed. But, I don’t think any kind of mass air bath would help make that happen. I guess I will just have to settle for an economic recovery.


————— ¤ —————

In closing, I would like to provide this link to photos of the inauguration sent by my friend Asaad Samaan. His message was “Cool stuff regardless of who you voted for.” I couldn’t agree more: http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/01/the_inauguration_of_president.html

December 2008: Inspiration Under $20

It is December. It is time for thoughts of Peace on Earth and, for our family, to celebrate Christmas. For some reason, it has always been a time for introspection. A year is about to end. Certainly, the media reminds us of this at every turn. A new year is looming. We evaluate ourselves and the circumstances of the current year and what the next may bring.

2008 has been a mix for me. Both my children got engaged Aram to Anoush Varjabedian and Armené to Michael Kapamajian. We had very lovely parties to celebrate these blessings and as precursors to the weddings both of which will be in 2009. Both couples are in love and looking brightly to the future which provides a great measure of joy and happiness to parents and grandparents alike.

Yet, 2008 has been a tough year. Times are tough. The economy is in the dumps. People are losing their jobs by the thousands. Wall Street is rife with mismanagement and worse. The government is providing funds to stabilize banks and for people with absurd mortgage terms and amounts to refinance. After considerable debate they have done the same for the automotive industry. Retail sales are down, chain stores are closing. Times are tough.

I have also lost my job. It was not so much due to the economy but more so to changing out the entire management team. Think of it as a new football coach arrived and brought his own assistants. The blue team was out and the red team was in. Bottom line, I am looking for my next challenge.

It is times like this when people need a little inspiration and motivation. It is certainly a time when I am seeking both inspiration and motivation. We need to see that things are not necessarily as dire as the headlines make them out to be. People need to feel good. I need to feel good. We all need inspiration.

At this time of year, Christians celebrate Christmas. In the pure religious sense, it is an inspirational time of year. Given that the commercial part of the season is suffering from high inventories and consumers with a lot less appetite to spend, the inspirational and spiritual parts of the holiday will probably play a larger role. It certainly does for me.

December 21 is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere and the longest day of the year in the southern hemisphere. Throughout history the cusp days of solstices and equinoxes have held special meaning for people. Religious beliefs were created around them and are embedded in our collective unconscious. So, it is a very good time to look at the mystical and the inspirational.

The definition of inspiration the way I am referring to it here is three fold (www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/inspiration):

1. divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation

2. the action or power of moving the intellect or emotions

3. the act of influencing or suggesting opinions

At this time of the year and for purposes of this letter, I am firmly talking about a melding of the first two definitions. I am talking about the divine and spiritual influence that moves the intellect and emotions through revelation towards a positive action.

Barnes & Noble: The idea for the topic of this e-letter came on December 9th. I was at the Barnes & Noble at Hawthorn mall. It was a Sunday morning around 11 am. I stopped there to peruse the ultra-deep discounts on the remainder table but also to take advantage of the Starbucks Café on the second floor where I could write my daily page.

There was a display table right near the Starbucks. The table had maybe a dozen different 3x5, 4x6, or 5x5 inch sized books. You know the kind of book, more novelty, special topic, or monograph than novel or serious non-fiction. The sign on the table simply read: Inspiration under $20. I stood there staring and smiling for a few moments before checking out the titles that qualified for this most amusing category. The were books like The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, As a Man Thinketh by James Allen, The Daily Book of Positive Quotes, and The Mayan Prophecies for 2012. I suppose these titles would have qualified as inspirational reading. Certainly, the books by Gibran and Allen are classics. After all, what kind of divine influence or moving of the intellect or emotions could one expect for under $20?

There was a most interesting choice on the table: The Art of the Handwritten Note by one Margaret Shepherd. I actually picked this book up and thumbed through it. I do write handwritten notes and keep a supply of blank note cards and personal stationary just for such. It turns out Ms. Shepherd is a noted calligrapher and author. I was not surprised to learn that she lives in Boston. I expected either Boston or San Francisco though I am not entirely sure why. Mostly she talks about the personal touch of the handwritten letter or note. She did not talk about the utility of personal stationary… 25% or less the cost of a pre-printed card and the chance to be able to really express yourself to the recipient. She even had tips on keeping straight margins and other important things. I was motivated to send Ms. Shepherd a handwritten note telling of the inspiration her book provided without me even buying it .

I would have bought the Mayan prophecy book if the forward had been written by Nostradamus!

Fortune Cookies: Maybe I am older and more sentimental in a maudlin, and apparently redundant, kind of way. But, I believe that the fortune cookie manufacturers are writing more profound and touching fortunes in their cookies.

Recently, I opened one that simply stated that “Wealth is a state of mind.” I put it in my wallet and recently threw it away, after having committed the six words to memory. I did not expect to get such a memorable message from a fortune cookie. This certainly was inspirational and as the meal cost a modest amount I had Inspiration Under $20.

Over the years I have saved several fortunes that were inspiring in a timely manner. I had them taped to an index card that I would review every once in awhile. I have not seen the index card for awhile. It should be no surprise that when I looked for it to include the fortunes in this letter… it was nowhere to be found or at least nowhere I looked.

I turned to the internet and found, as usual, a wealth of examples. There were sites where you could order fortune cookies with your own message or messages. There was one site where folks posted particularly meaningful, serendipitous, or inspirational fortunes. For example, an aspiring novelist had opened a fortune cookie that said "You are a lover of words. Someday you will write a book."

Speaking of books, Amazon.com lists at least two books on fortune cookies. The Fortune Cookie Book: A Little Food for Thought is only $4.95. This could have been on the Inspiration Under $20 table. It was not.

December 23: I just read two quotes from Walt Disney. The first was provided randomly by gmail and posted just above the inbox:

The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing.

This is especially meaningful and inspirational to me because I am one of the great procrastinators in the history of mankind. Or at least I have that potential. I can plan and plot with the best of them. But, the doing part is an entirely different story. It reminds me very much of my favorite quote that I have referred to at least once in these letters:

Knowing never equals doing.

This quote is almost as obscure as the person who said is not nearly as famous as Walt Disney. Mariah Smith, a weight loss expert and President of Prescriptions for Health and was quoted in a book entitled Thin for Life by Anne M. Fletcher. It had such an impact when I first read it, that I have made this quote my motto of sorts. It is a constant source of inspiration for me. Yet, it is not so much motto as it is more a statement of problem I have to constantly battle against. I know what the quote says and means but…

When I read the Disney quote, it triggered another question. Back in the 1980s, someone in a quality management lecture had said “It is always good to have at least one person on a project that knows what the hell they are doing.” The speaker attributed this quote to Walt Disney. I never got verification nor found a reference for this quote. So, as the random gmail quote had Walt Disney underlined, I clicked on the name and voila, I was led to the Walt Disney page of a quotations website (sorry I forgot to note the name of the site). The folks at Google are very clever. I looked for this very good quote to no avail. But, I did find this Disney one:

You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.

December 30: Well, this second Disney quote certainly hit home and has certainly had an uplifting if not inspirational effect. It reminds me very much of what my friend Angel de la Puente told me back in 2006 when I was last in career transition. He basically said the same thing as the Disney quote above. He was right. Walt Disney was right. Others have provided the same advice:

1. When a door closes, another opens
2. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade
3. Look at the glass as half full

This is precisely the kind of inspiration that I need at this point. It would be easy, very easy, to let the economic news drag me down. It would be equally easy to let my own personal circumstances get me down. I cannot. I have to look forward and maintain a positive attitude and for the most part I am.

I am using this time between to better myself and to try to shore up what I think, maybe even know, are weaknesses in my abilities and capabilities. I am currently reading Execution: The Discipline of Getting Things Done by Larry Bossidy and Ram Charan. The authors advocate the mastery of three core business process: The People Process, the Strategy Process, and the Operations Process. Leaders that excel at what they advocate are fully engaged, no doubt self-actualized in the finest sense, in their work. On page 29 of the book, Bossidy and Charan state:

This is not “inspiration” through exhortation or speechmaking. These leaders energize everyone by the example they set.

At the halftime of the 1928 game against Army, Knute Rockne gave the famous “Win one for the Gipper” speech. The Notre Dame Fighting Irish went out, came from behind, and beat Army. The inspirational speech was featured in the classic 1940 MGM film Knute Rockne – All American starring Pat O’Brien as Rockne and Ronald Reagan as George Gipp.

Bossidy and Charan are correct; it was not the inspirational speech by itself. It was all the hard work and preparation. It was Rockne’s mastery of the people, strategy, and operational processes of fielding a football team. The speech alone would have done no good if the team did not have the right personnel and drilled and prepared to play competitively in such a game.

There is a religious component to inspiration as well. People look to God and rely on the base of their faith. We find comfort, assurance, and inspiration in faith and spirituality.

Sticking with the theme of Inspiration Under $20, allow me to present another little bit of inspiration from a book I bought not from a bargain table at Barnes and Noble but from Edward R. Hamilton Bookseller. Edward R. Hamilton is a remainder and overstock catalog and on-line store (http://www.edwardrhamilton.com/) based in Falls Village, CT. I am not exactly sure why I got this book. I am sure the title The Time is Now: 60 “Time Pieces” for Getting the Most out of Everyday had something to do with it. I probably thought it was about time management. The cost of the book? $4.95.

The author is Rabbi Daniel S. Wolk. I believe each of the 60 pieces were from sermons the good Rabbi gave during his thirty years at Congregation Emanu-El in Westchester County, NY. It was not so much about time management as it was inspirational. I really enjoyed reading the book. The book was neither too heavy nor deep. But Rabbi Wolk’s has a very easy style of writing and use of quotes from famous statesmen and thinkers in a way that made it profound and inspiring in a very understated laid back way. Here are some of the quotes that I wrote down from reading that book:

I am not upset by events but rather by the way I view them.
- Epictetus

I have learned that success is to be measured no so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome when trying succeed.
- Booker T. Washington

When I look back on these obstacles, I remember the story of an old man who said on his deathbed that he had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which never happened.
- Winston Churchill

If you are in danger of crashing into the rocks in a rough sea, pray to God. (Then with a wink,) but row vigorously away from the rocks.
- a friend of the Rabbi

I close with wishing you all a wonderful, healthy, happy, and prosperous 2009.

November 2008: Was it the Weirdest of Times?

My good friend and best man, Jack Hachigian, was visiting a few weeks ago. He and his wife Niky were visiting to attend the Michigan State vs. Northwestern football game. We have a lovely time catching up with old friends, the weather was great, and the Spartans were victorious.

During the weekend, we talked a lot about this and that: the then upcoming presidential elections, college football, and reminiscing about the days of our youth. While talking about our adolescent years, Jack said “I will always remember what you told me once.”

I am not sure how often I hear friends tell me this. I have no clue if I hear this more or less than others, but it always piques my interest for two reasons. First, it is most flattering to hear that I have said things people will always remember. Second, and this is true in each and every case, I wonder “What the hell did I say?”

What I had told Jack was that “We grew up in a very weird time.” I did recall saying that and believe it to be true. We came of age in the late sixties and early seventies. To me, increasingly so with each passing year, it was a very weird time.

I am not sure if any time was good or bad, weird or not, to grow up in. Were the 1930s any better? They were overwhelmed with the great depression. How about the 1940s? World War II certainly dominated the first half of that decade. While there was the Korean War, the 1950s were certainly a period of growth and prosperity in the US lasting until the mid-1960s when the turning point was somewhere between the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, the heating up of the Vietnam War, and the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy in 1968.

My parents’ generation was in grade school during the great depression. They were in middle school during the trying times of World War II experiencing rationing and seeing their mothers joining the workforce for the first time ever to support the wartime production of munitions and supplies. By the time they were in high school, the war was over and they were beginning their adult lives as the US entered a great period of prosperity.

The 1950s were not all peaches and cream. Beyond the aforementioned Korean War, there was nuclear proliferation and the development of the hydrogen bomb. The Cold War, the Iron Curtain and the Red Scare were realities of the era that clouded the decade with an underlining fear and paranoia that spawned what I have seen called “the American Inquisition” of McCarthyism.

Why do I think our time was so weird? Certainly it was a time of a lot of change. We were in an unpopular war, we had this thing called The Generation Gap, recreational and mind expanding drugs entered the mainstream, censorship in films vanished, and then there was that odd concept called Free Love. A lot was piled into a short period of time, it was tumultuous. It was a period of desperation filled with hope. Maybe is it was a period of great hope sprinkled with desperation. It was a time of dichotomies. And then… we had to get jobs, work, and be adults. It really seemed to be a transitional era. We were the transitional generation and, oh yeah, the Pepsi Generation at the same time.

In trying to make sense of my adolescence, I have tried to think about what the main drivers were for the abovementioned changes. What are the underlying factors?

The first thing that comes to my mind is drugs. By drugs, I mean both the getting high kind and pharmaceuticals. Penicillin was created in the 1920s and mass produced in the 1940s. Stronger and better antibiotics were developed and marketed making such life threatening diseases such as pneumonia and tuberculosis practically eradicated. By the time my generation baby boomed into the world, there were vaccines, first for polio and then quickly for other childhood diseases such as rubella, measles, mumps, and whooping cough.

Mine was a generation, the first, to be freed of childhood illnesses that could cripple and kill. We were decades away from realizing we were breeding antibiotic resistant bacteria. It is not too far out of the realm of possibility that we may have a flu or plague like pandemic of drug resistant bugs that could kill millions. Even today, we are only speculating on the side effects of immunizations. What is their role, if any, in the spike in both severe allergies and autism.

A major breakthrough came in the early 1960s with the introduction of what simply became known as The Pill. The Pill was perhaps the first of a plethora of what are now called lifestyle drugs. The Pill was the oral contraceptive composed of synthetic hormones that fooled the female body into thinking it was pregnant and thus suppressing the production and release of eggs. Thus, a women taking The Pill would not get pregnant. For the first time in history, women could engage in sexual relations without fear of becoming pregnant. Women in this sense were liberated… until the really scary side effects of became known and widely publicized.

There was truly a “Better Living Through Chemistry” feel in the nation. This phrase was a variant of the DuPont company slogan that became a tongue and cheek mantra of the generation of which I am writing. Not only did we take advantage of the marvels of modern science for physical health, there was a large segment of the population that used drugs both natural and pharmaceuticals to “turn on, tune in, and drop out” and “think for yourself and question authority” per Timothy Leary.

People did just that. They used natural opiates and hallucinogens such as marijuana, hashish, opium, cocaine, psilocybin, and peyote to alter their consciousnesses and see things in a different light, from a different point of view. Many did exactly what Timothy Leary prescribed.

I first heard of Dr. Andrew Weil back in 1972 when he authored a book entitled The Natural Mind: A New Way of Looking at Drugs and the Higher Consciousness. He was advocating drugs as one path to a higher consciousness but natural drugs like psilocybin and peyote versus their laboratory equivalents such as LSD and mescaline. He theorized that in their natural forms the drugs are better tolerated than the refined versions. In retrospect, he was using a precursor to simple carbs are bad and complex carbs are good argument. I read the book, understood what he was saying. I had never used a hallucinogen and did not experiment with any after reading his book. I felt enlightened enough already. My consciousness was sufficiently altered.

That era was also a time of liberation movements. There was the Civil Rights Movement followed quickly by the Migrant Workers Movement, the Women’s Liberation Movement, and Gay Rights. While it might be a debatable point today, this country was run by white males back then. These other segments of society were most definitely second class citizens. Winning World War II and the subsequent global pre-eminence of the United States business, military, and culture led us all to believe in the superiority of our democracy and the way we governed ourselves. The words “all men are created equal” and “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” were taken ever more seriously… by every segment of society. Everyone wanted a piece of the American Dream. Everyone felt like they deserved it. No one wanted to wait any longer.

Television contributed to this. Ours was the first generation to grow-up with television. From Howdy Doody and Captain Kangaroo to The Donna Reed Show and Leave it to Beaver. We are a generation of unique independent individualists all fed the exact same pabulum of the 1950s and 1960s American Dream. Beyond this, we also watched the assassination of John F. Kennedy and the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald real time. We had front row seats to what Michael Arlen Jr. called the Living Room War: The Vietnam War.

Television, in my view did two things to contribute to the attitudes of my generation during those times. First, idyllic lifestyles were beamed into every house every day. I referred to Leave it to Beaver and The Donna Reed Show… nice houses, upper middle class… life was good. All of a sudden, people could easily see that their lives did not measure up and they wanted a piece of it. It was no longer an abstraction of haves and have nots. People were impressed, surprised, with just how many “haves” there were in this country. It was beamed in front of your face, every day, in living color. There was an attitude of I want it and I want it now that fed into the revolutionary mindset of the times.

The second major influence of television was that in every major drama problems were solved in less than an hour including commercial breaks. There was nothing that couldn’t be solved quickly. Some of the bigger problems, like world hunger, plagues, nuclear terrorism or earth destroying asteroids, required an hour and half maybe two hence requiring the length of a feature film to solve.

The point is that we were geared to want quick answers and quick solutions with minimum sacrifice. After all, how much do you really have to sacrifice in an hour to solve to resolve a major crisis or solve a major problem? Sure, you might have to walk 200 miles across a burning desert. But what does that take 5-6 minutes tops? This social impatience evolved to the instant gratification of the 1980s and 1990s. We want it, we want it all, and we want it right now.

There are many reasons for the generation gap. This attitude of wanting change and wanting it now was a contributor. Drug use, long hair, loud outrageous rock music, and dressing certainly widened the chasm. Our parents had experienced the depression and World War II. They knew you had to hunker down, work hard, and endure hardships and then maybe, with the grace of God, your dreams might come to fruition. You had to pay dues. You had to earn your dreams. “Hell with that,” we said. We want it and we want it now. These two mindsets were doomed to clash and create a generation gap.

“Hell with that” turned into “Hell no, we won’t go” the chant my generation used to protest the Vietnam War. The older generation was used to supporting the government and the troops no matter what. There was simply no questioning. In World War II, we were good, the Axis powers were evil. We had a job to do, and we did it. We were in the right. We were noble. They were WWII and Korean veterans. They did their duty and expected the youth, their children, to do the same. No no, Uh-uh… Nay nay…

There was another reason we were able to be so independent, so free, and so “revolutionary.” Looking back now, this might have been the important reason of all: the economy was amazingly strong. You just needed to graduate from college, not get drafted, and you could get a job. The American Dream for many was on autopilot. As hard as that is to do today, it was just that easy in the late 1960s and early 1970s. As soon as the economy and jobs tightened up with oil crisis of 1973, the movement began to erode. It became more important to do well in school in order to get a job. It became more important to do well on the job in order to keep your position and advance. The party slowly ended.

I saw cracks in the wall of the Utopia we thought we were creating. When I went to the University of Michigan, as a freshman, I saw things that made me truly question the whole movement. Everyone, well 99.9% of the students wore blue jeans. Not only blue jeans but Levis. Hell no… we won’t conform. We all adopted the same damned look, in the name of freedom, non-conformity, and liberation. I will be different by, uh, looking like everyone else. It is pretty comical when you look back on it and it is more amusing with each passing year. But, to us back then, it was important stuff.

Back in college, I saw students who were wearing jeans but had really expensive and very fashionable boots. It just didn’t go. Lots of people were wearing army field jackets or shirts but one fellow donned a red ringmaster jacket complete with tails and gold braiding. He was a charismatic guy but revealed too much of his need to lead, need for attention ego with that outfit.
We used to fight with our parents about getting haircuts. The more they insisted, the more defiant we were. In the early 1990’s, I recall that my cousin’s son wanted to get a buzz cut. My cousin, his mother, would not let him. She didn’t allow it. I remember thinking, “Oh my, we have come full circle.” But even that was a humorous exchange and had none of the drama such altercations in our era would have had.

What began as liberation and personal growth, peace and freedom, flower power turned to something else. Drug use morphed from turning on, tuning in, and dropping out to more and more simply “getting wasted.” Jeans were still the fashion but the fashion industry adapted and began capitalizing on the look. I recall the emergence of and rage around Jordache as a chic and trendy take on jeans. Jeans became part of fashion and no longer an icon of the counterculture. For some reason, I was truly offended when “they” started marketing pre-faded jeans.

Rock and Roll the soundtrack of our generation became more about Alice Cooper and Kiss donning gothic make-up and doing outrageous things on stage. I never saw the point in biting the head off of a bat in front of thousands of “totally wasted” fans. In fact, it was about this time I turned from pop music to a full time devotion to Armenian and Turkish music. The clear defining point for me was watching an Elton John performance on TV where he was playing a piano while he and the piano was suspended above the stage and actually rotated and flipped. I knew then and there that something had fundamentally changed. The era whatever it was had ended.

I will still listen to the music of that time and think back. I listen, occasionally to Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, Cream, and Jefferson Airplane. But moreso, I listen to Joni Mitchell and Crosby, Stills, and Nash. They provide a smoother path to the past.

As one segment of the youth turned down the path of progressively getting more and more wasted, another wanted to get more dressed up, dance, and have a good time. Saturday Night Live and Disco was their answer: Polyester, wide lapels, dance moves, and dance floors that lit up. The times had certainly changed.

I was pleased, delighted, that my children had a more sane time traversing adolescence. Sure, we had the normal and expected stresses as young adults want more autonomy and parents are not quite ready to give it up. But, it was not all knotted up with major social and lifestyle changes as it was back in our day.

I was right in what I said to Jack. It was a weird time. But, for better or worse, it was my time, it was our time, the time of my generation.


My Generation

People try to put us d-down (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
Just because we get around (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I hope I die before I get old (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

This is my generation
This is my generation, baby

Why don't you all f-fade away (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
And don't try to dig what we all s-s-say (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm just talkin' 'bout my g-g-g-generation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

This is my generation
This is my generation, baby
- The Who


The Times They Are A-Changin'

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road isRapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.
- Bob Dylan