Angel de la Puente

     It was December 29, 2018, four months ago. We were driving from Chicago to Los Angeles to visit our daughter and her family. It was dark and we were somewhere in Nebraska. Judy was driving and I was on my phone. On Facebook messenger, I had a message from Liz Peniche who I knew from Colgate Mexico. The message was short and sad: “With deep sorrow I inform you that Ángel passed away this morning.”
     I was stunned and saddened. But, I was not surprised. Angel had been in long term care for at least a year. He suffered from Guillain-Barré syndrome. Thank God for WhatsApp which allowed us to keep in touch for that time. He worked very hard at rehab but the progress was very slow. He never ever lost his resolve. He would send me videos of his walking and doing various exercises.  Sadly, in the end, his body gave out.
     I video texted him the Wednesday before he passed, he was in the hospital confined to bed. He said he could talk then but asked that I call him back, “I have something I want to talk to you about.” I got involved with preparations for our drive to California and

Me, Angel, Boris Magidenko, and
Javier Arostegui at Tavern on the Green
NYC

did not call him back. Sadly, that was the last I spoke with Angel. I imagine he was going to say things did not look good for him... but I am not sure.
     Angel de la Puente was one of my best friends in Colgate. We hired him from the outside to be the Director of Logistics and Customer Service in our Mexican subsidiary in the late 1990s. He was the first outside hire in such a role. Before Colgate, he had worked at Scott Paper Co. and experienced the bizarre leadership of Chainsaw Al Dunlap there. Angel actually was featured on the cover of a logistics trade magazine as one of the new breed of logistics leaders in Latin America. Our corporate director of Logistics and Customer Service, Dave Nelson, circulated the article throughout the company encouraging everyone to hire or breed this kind of logistics executive. Colgate Mexico took Dave’s advice and promptly hired Angel.
      We were not sure what to think. We knew we had to improve our logistics and customer service operations in Latin America and we had to do it quickly. I was the Latin America Division Director of Customer Service and Logistics. My mandate was to take us for so-so to dismal performance levels to equal or surpass our main competitors in the region. From the beginning, I always said that “if I am successful, I will have been unqualified to replace myself.” So, here comes a guy, Angel de la Puente, that at least on paper, was probably more qualified to my job than I was. How was I supposed to deal with and manage this situation?
     My concerns were unwarranted. When we first met, Angel was larger than life. He had great confidence a rich gravelly authoritative voice. He was not afraid to share his opinion or draw a quick conclusion about one of our colleagues. I laid back and got to know Angel and helped him navigate the unique politics that were Colgate in those days. We got to respect each other, acknowledged our different but complimentary management styles, and developed a great team. We truly learned from each other.  He knew the logistics business and everyone in it in Mexico and I was an expert in process development and improvement.  That partnership grew to very strong lifelong friendship. 
     Angel was not everyone’s cup of tea. He was blunt and very defensive of his actions. Folks in our US Subsidiary and at Corporate felt like they always had better answers and better strategies. That was not usually the case and Angel let them know it. We would play good cop bad cop and usually got our point and way of thinking across. He was always ready to do battle. He made me a stronger leader for it. He made me realize that I was better of having strong, aggressive pit bulls reporting to me. I was better at knowing when to pull on the reigns and let them loose than I was at cracking the whip.

Angel sent me this photo from a Colgate Mexico event and
challenged me to provide an equal or better photo.

     I used to always tell Angel, “I am delighted to have you reporting to me, but I don’t think I could ever be a coworker with you and, for sure, I could never report to you.” He just laughed and did not ask why. He knew he could be a real tough boss. If he ever lost confidence in a direct report, even for a moment, he would be very hard on such folks. He valued loyalty and execution. We would always discuss if his tough guy approach was better than my wimpy approach of giving second and third chances in the spirit of continuous improvement.
     One time, in Mexico, we were working on something and at 6 pm he gave instructions to a junior manager/analyst to finish up something and that he expected the answer first thing in the morning. I knew the fellow would have to work two to three hours to get things done. We left for dinner, in spite of my suggestion that we stay and help the fellow crank-out the work. Angel said, “I am testing him.” OK then. An hour later, sitting in the restaurant, who do we see walk in but the very same fellow who should have been back at the office. I looked at Angel and said, “I do believe he flunked the test.” That fellow experienced Angel’s tough love for weeks after that. I do believe that the fellow became a stronger and more reliable team member for it.
     I called Angel once and told I had just watched the well-known movie Amores Perros. I told him that I understood everything in the movie. Angel gruffly, retorted “That is not possible, your Spanish is not that good.” I responded that “No, I really understood everything. The entire dialogue was the same five swear words you use all the time.” After a moment of silence, he retorted, “Fuck you!” This was the exact response I was going seeking. This kind of humor and give and take defined our friendship.
     Another time, I was late leaving for the airport. Angel’s boss, Stuart Burkhead, was making all of his direct reports fill out an NCAA Basketball Tournament Bracket and “invest” some pesos into the competition. Angel said, “You have to fill this out for me, I don’t know anything about this bullshit.” I said “I don’t have time, I am late.” “Just do it!” he said. So, I just did it. I spent all of thirty seconds on the selection, handed it to him, and went out to my waiting car. A few weeks later, Angel called me and said, “We won.” “Won what?” “That basketball contest thing you filled out.” I had actually forgotten we did that. It was literally, the only time I have ever had any success in this regard. Angel was excited, “Stuart keeps asking me how the hell I did it, he keeps saying, ‘you don’t know anything about basketball.’” We never did fess up to Stuart.
     Angel was old school in many ways. He worked hard and he played hard. He was a serious smoker and drinker. He smoked at least a pack of cigarettes a day. He even smoked in his office even though smoking was prohibited throughout all of Colgate. Over the years, we had some epic drinking sessions. Our chosen libation for the most part was good tequila though cognac and Riojas were not out of the question. All drinking was after hours and most were

The last time we hung out together.
Mexico City 2006.

evenings, but some of best times were the few Saturdays we dedicated to drinking, discussion, and cigars. During these times, we talked… a lot. We talked about politics in Mexico, the US, and, of course, in Colgate. We talked about life, dreams, love, and family. We would bust each other’s chops on our managerial weaknesses and bone-headed things we have done. We talked about the history, heritage, and future of both Mexico and Armenia. We talked about our children and grandchildren. He adored his daughter Karla, his grandson Angel, and his girlfriend Olivia. He talked about them often and light up when he did. I miss those times and looked forward to getting to Mexico or him visiting Chicago so we could renew. Alas, that is never to be.
     Back circa 2005, Angel had some serious health issues that required hospitalization. In checking in on him, I used to ask if the doctors had mentioned anything about his smoking and drinking. He said, “Not at all.” I looked at him sideways and he remained stoic. He beat those health concerns and rebounded by embracing a serious exercise regimen. When I complemented him on his progress, he struck the Usain Bolt lightening pose and would repeat the pose anytime I asked about his health after that.
     Angel left Colgate a few years after did. After trying consulting and some contract work, he landed a job that returned him to the paper products industry. It had to be 2016 or 2017, he took a job as Logistics and Customer Service Director for Kimberly-Clark Mexico. When we called and talked about it, I asked him if he was ready to return to the fray of the day-to-day corporate grind after having been out for several years. He assured me, “No problem.” I sensed he was striking the Usain Bolt pose as he was answering.
     It took me four months to write this piece. I wanted to write it earlier. I wanted to write it immediately on his passing.  I thought about Angel and his passing every day.  I thought about what I wanted to write quite a bit, but I could not bring myself to actually write. I have a hard time writing about the passing of a friend my age. Sadly, this will happen more and more.
     Sometimes we choose our friends. Other times ours friends choose us. Certainly, we can marry into friendships. In the case of Angel and I, neither of us sought the friendship. It just happened. It grew gradually through the business we did together. Our friendship was unique in another way. We did not have a circle of mutual friends or relatives. Basically, it was just he and I.
     I will miss him very much but appreciate and treasure the excellent times we did share.

Chidem Inch: The 104th Anniversary of the Genocide

Ara Güler

     This year, per the title, we are celebrating the 104th Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. There is an annual protest in front of the Turkish Consulate in Chicago on the 24th and a Chicago wide mass and program on Saturday the 27th. I cannot attend the protest but will be present at the mass and program.
     In this 4th year after Centennial Anniversary, I am not sure what I am feeling. We continue pressing for recognition. If we ever get Turkey to commit to recognition, we will no doubt push harder for reparations. I am certain this is why Turkey may never recognize what happened. I think there was some hope before the coup d’etat attempt in 2016. Before, people in Istanbul showed up en masse to support the recognition of the Genocide and honor the memory of Hrant Dink.  The mood was positive and hopeful. After the coup? Erdogan cleaned house and basically punished anyone and everyone in the country that was more liberal and open than he thought the country should be. Whatever hope I had for a new Turkey evaporated with the failed coup. 
     Where is Turkey going? Why do I care? If they aren’t going to admit to anything or try to reconcile to any degree, they could implode as far as I am concerned. Would love to see a free Kurdistan because they should have a country and they might actually welcome Armenians back. They might even give Ararat, Ani, Kars, and Kghi to the Republic of Armenia. OK,this last scenario is probably only a smidge more likely than Turkey recognizing the Genocide. 
     On Easter Sunday, we were delighted to have Zaven Tokatlian over. The Tokatlian-Gavoor connection dates back to the 1960s in Khartoum, Sudan where the Tokatlians lived and where my great-uncle Rouben was the financial officer in the US Embassy. Zaven never comes empty handed. He brought flowers for Judy and my mother-in-law. He brought me the 2017 edtion of Orhan Pamuk’s Istanbul: Memories and the City. This reprint was expanded to include more photos including many from the famed photographer Ara Güler.  

     After our guests left, I sat down and looked at every photo in the book and read two chapters. The photos are amazing, and I love the way Pamuk writes. Yes, I can say or write that I don’t really care what happens in Turkey and the next day I am mesmerized by a book of memories and photos of Istanbul. None of our family actually lived there and I have visited only once. But, 104 years after the genocide here I am, a second-generation Armenian born in the US, still fascinated and drawn to the great Polis. I would visit again in a heartbeat should the opportunity. 
     Many of my generation of Armenian-Americans have faded away from Armenian life and melded into the dominant American culture. For those of us who persist, our Armnenian heritage, culture, and nation are powerful forces in our lives and define a significant part of our lives. We cannot let it go. We dream about the very improbable and definitely impractical repatriation, not to the Republic of Armenia, but the Turkish occupied villages of Western Armenia where my grandparents’ generation were born. 
     I want to say I don’t care what happens in Turkey but it is not true. I am not a citizen. I might have been and that gives me a reason to have interest, if not a stake, in what happens. Most non-Armenians from Turkey that I know cannot relate to this in anyway.  To them I am the foreigner that I most certainly appear to be.
     Çidem Ínç indeed!
-->

The College Admissions Scandal

Old Main at Wayne State University
Where as far as I know, I got into on my own merits.

     When the news of the college admissions scandal first hit the news last month, I was only a bit surprised and even less shocked. For sure, I was upset about the generally touted “fair and above-board process” of college admissions being swayed by money. Honestly, it has never been fair and above-board. We have had white-privilege, affirmative action, athletic skill trumping GPA and test scores, home state, and, of course, the sway or money and power. Legacy is another huge factor. At premier schools, trying to decipher the admissions criteria has always also been like trying to predict airfare pricing. It is a black box.
     People of wealth and influence have always had an advantage. I always assumed that large and generous donations to a university would make give one’s children an advantage over the general mass of applicants. Power and celebrity status also plays a role. When has the son or daughter of a President of the United States ever go to MiddleofNowhere College, Our Sisters of the Poor University, or Eastern Mediocre State University. They always seem to go to Harvard, Yale, Penn or Stanford.
     The admissions rates at the schools mentioned in the scandal are 5 – 10%. The probabilities of being accepted is low if we assume all applicants are equally qualified and they most certainly aren’t. You have to have an edge, a differentiator, to get into these schools. All the applicants have high GPAs and impressive test scores. Students with lesser scores do get admitted if they have world class athletic skills, virtuoso musical talent, or they can surf in on a tsunami of their parents’ money.
     Frank Bruni had a beautiful Op-Ed in the New York Times on March 12, 2019. The title was “Bribes to Get Into Yale and Stanford? What Else Is New?” Truly, yes, what else is new. Bruni pointed out:

It’s a galling exposé of widespread cheating by families who are already well-to-do and well connected, but it’s not really a surprising one. Anyone who knows anything about the cutthroat competition for precious spots at top-tier schools realizes how ugly and unfair it can be: how many corners are cut, how many schemes are hatched, how big a role money plays, how many advantages privilege can buy. 

The wrinkle here is that the schemes were actually criminal and will apparently be prosecuted, and for once the colleges’ administrators were in the dark about them. But they’re versions of routine favor-trading and favoritism that have long corrupted the admissions process, leeching merit from the equation. 

It may be legal to pledge $2.5 million to Harvard just as your son is applying — which is what Jared Kushner’s father did for him — and illegal to bribe a coach to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars, but how much of a difference is there, really? Both elevate money over accomplishment. Both are ways of cutting in line.

     Sure, going to a highly selective school can give one an advantage of the connections and the educational opportunity. But, taking advantage of the educational opportunity can happen anywhere. I have given the same advice to young people who did not get accepted to their dream school and ended up going to their second, third, or even safety school choice. “No matter where you go, knock the cover of the ball. Do your best, work hard, make great lifelong friends, and take advantage of the educational opportunity… especially if you are going into debt for the experience.” I will now add to this charge, “Be so successful that you can grease the skids for your own kids if you were so inclined. But, don’t be so inclined.”

Sox or No Sox?

     It is that time of the year again. No, this not about the start of the baseball season and teams named for the color of their stockings.
     Every year at this time, at least one, sometimes two, and, once in a great while, three people have the need to proclaim something akin, “Finally, the weather is warming up, I won’t have to wear sox until November.” It is not just a matter of fact comment made in general conversation or in passing. Nay, nay, the proclamations are done with some amount of joy, with passion and sometimes even fervor. My reaction is always the same…
     I simply and without any emotion respond, “OK.”

     But I am thinking and wondering, “why are you sharing this with me? Why do you feel the need to share this with me?” Sox? Really? I could really, truly, care less. Yet, it is so important in the lives of some folks that they need to proclaim this to others… to me. It is bewildering. People don’t have the same fervor about not having to wear sweaters, sweatshirts, parkas, gloves, scarves, knit hats, long johns, snow boots, or even long sleeves. I have never ever heard someone say, “I have turned off the heated seats in my car and not even thinking about it again until the first frost.”
     Why sox? I am intrigued and mystified why people have to tell that they are excited and delighted not to be wearing them for the next six months. It is like an annual epiphany for them. They are delighted and excited. They may have druid blood in them and are so far removed from Stonehenge, that this is their way of celebrating the vernal equinox.
     Why sox? My feeling on sox are pretty neutral. I like them to fit. I throw them out when they have holes in them or when the elastic in them are no longer, um… elastic. I buy them when I need them and like get them on-sale and in value packs. That’s about it. Other than that, I never really think about them except in the morning when I select the pair to wear that day. Oh yeah, after years of intense training from first mother and then wife, I have learned to choose the sox of the day in a color that matches or compliments the color of the slacks and shoes of that very same day.
      As for not wearing sox? Well, in the warmer climes, I do like to wear sandals and boat shoes. More often than not, when donning such footwear, I go sockless. It’s nice but I do not feel the need to proclaim it to anyone let alone everyone. If anything, I will occasionally wear sox with sandals. I only do this to bewilder and generate comments from the same folks who feel the need to tell me how much they enjoy going sockless. I actually get a bit of joy from doing this.
     In my view, there are definite benefits to wearing sox. They provide extra cushion and comfort. They also serve a very important function in certain footwear: they either prevent or absorb perspiration. I simply find it uncomfortable to have sweaty feet… period. Even with sneakers, tennis shoes, trackies, trainers, or whatever it is we are calling gym shoes these days, I tend to wear the low-rise sox that give the appearance of not wearing sox at all.
     I am such a poser.

Killings in Christchurch

     This one is a bit of a rant.
     March 15: Killing innocent people is certainly a crime. Killing innocent unarmed people is heinous. Killing innocent people while they are praying in a house of worship is a heinous abomination. I awoke this morning to killings of 49 people in Christchurch, New Zealand. A racist, white supremacist, gunman walked into one mosque and killed 42 people and then went to another mosque in the same town and killed 7 more before he was arrested.
     The terrorist assassin is a white male from Australia. He is a white supremacist who planned this to the point where he had a hat mounted camera which he used to broadcast to Facebook Live while he shot and killed.
     I cannot fathom how anyone gets to the point where they could do such a thing. There had to be such a build-up of hate and delusion to conceive of and execute such an attack and broadcast it on social media.
     Killing people in a church, a synagogue, and in this case a mosque is inconceivably evil to me. Killing people in a house of worship is… I have no words. It is such an alien and abominable thing. When I first read about people being barricaded into a church or synagogue that was then set on fire, I was shocked to the core. I was first exposed to such heinous crimes over fifty years ago, and nothing has changed. I am shocked to the core each and every time something like this happens. Of course, we can replace the words house of worship with school, community center, and even workplace. They are equally horrible and wrong.
     March 17: I could not finish this piece the evening I started it. It is easy to be outraged and sickened. But it is quite another thing to say something that will resonate with all and put an end to such attacks. I really am not sure how to deal with some of the ugly as well hypocritical statements being made. Certainly, many world leaders including President Trump, made a statement about the killings in Christchurch. I have to be honest, while they sounded heartfelt. Many sounded hollow.
     Immediately, the analyses of and dialogue around this crime was, as the killer no doubt wanted, all about the white supremacy as an ongoing threat. As hours turned to days, biases emerged proving that we have learned nothing, and this kind of vile crimes will certainly happen again. I heard, Erdogan for example, talking about Islamophobia while he barely tolerates other religions in his country not to mention his crimes against the Kurds. There is the Australian Senator, Fraser Anning, who blamed immigration for the mosque attacks. There are numerous posts on social media basically siding with either Erdogan or Anning to some degree.
     From my perspective, this is all insane. Common folks praying in a place of worship have to be safe from a psychopath or gang of psychopaths barging into their sanctuary and gunning them down. It seems like such a simple truth. Most of the time, most everyone, has no problem following this tenet. At the same time, too many of us harbor biases and hatreds that, sadly, have a few on the psychopathic fringe take the hatred to the extreme and go on a shooting rampage.

A Sad, Bittersweet, Convergence

Maryam Mirzakhani

     It has been a week since the University of Chicago Middle Eastern Music Ensemble (MEME) Persian Concert. As noted before in this blog, the Persian Concert is so popular that it is presented two evening. The other two concerts, the Turkish and Arab, are only presented one evening. In my view, this is because of the wonderful support of the Iranian community and also the talent of the amazing singers in this concert: Sam Taheri and Gilda Amini.
     As with all MEME concerts, I find a few of the selections running through my head for weeks after the concert. It is no doubt due to the intense rehearsals building up to the last practice, the dress rehearsal, and the concert all happening over three days. This time Bazgastheh, Hezar Dastan, and Peyk-e Sahari have been a non-stop sound track in my mind. These love songs came with me from Chicago to the Czech Republic. The same happens with every concert. I remember that after the Arab Concert in May of 2017, I could not stop humming Farid Al Atrash’s Ahbabina ya Aini. That soundtrack was with me all summer long. 
     It is Sunday morning in Prague. It is a rainy March day. Before leaving the hotel to go to an Armenian Church service, I was watching the BBC World News. As chance would have it, they aired a segment on the famous Iranian Mathematician Maryam Mirzakhani. She is the first women and the first Iranian to win the prestigious Field Medal of the International Mathematical Union. The award is presented at their international congress which takes place every four years. It is given to the best mathematicians under the age of forty and is very prestigious. Some refer to it as the Nobel Prize for mathematicians. The BBC portrayal was titled Algebra’s Daughter: Maryam Mirzakhani. 
     I was vaguely aware of Dr. Mirzakhani. The BBC show was fascinating and described her rise through the Iranian education system to reach the highest levels in a field, research mathematics, dominated by men in a country, Iran, where men seem to have an advantage over women in society in general. She was born in 1977. Dr. Mizrakhani earned her bachelor’s in mathematics from the Sharif University of Technology in 1999. She then went on to Harvard to earn her PhD in 2004. She went on to become a fellow at Princeton and then she became a professor at Stanford. She married a Czech native and another professor at Stanford, Jan Vodorak. They had a daughter Anahita who was a constant companion of Dr. Mizrakhani per the BBC portrayal. In 2013, this brilliant lady was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was saddened to learn that she passed away in 2017, joining other brilliant mathematicians, Galois, Abel, and Ramanujan, that were taken from the world too soon. She passed at the same age, 40, as the famous German mathematician Bernard Riemann. Eerily, she was awarded her Field Award in 2014 in part for her work in Riemann Surfaces. 
     As the BBC documentary ended, the sound track was a beautiful piano version of a song we played in the Persian Concert, Jane Mayram. It was beautiful, that brought a shiver up my spine and a tear to my eye. This lovely song has been in my head, heart, and soul the rest of this day…

-->

A Prague State of Mind

A view across the river of the Palace and Cathedral

     Back in May of this year, 2019, my colleague, Kristina Kaufman, and I were selected to lead this year’s School of Business and Nonprofit Management International Experience Trip which takes place every Spring Break in March. For the past several years, our Dean, Wes Lindahl, has organized these trips that included such wonderful locales such as Vietnam, Barcelona, Istanbul, Costa Rica, Brazil, and others. I was fortunate enough to be parts of the trips to Costa Rica and Brazil. Professor Kaufman and I were delighted to be running the trip for 2019. At my suggestion, we chose Prague. It is a city everyone, that has been there, raves about. It was someplace I have not been to and always wanted to go. Plus, Dean Lindahl had met with an agency that specializes in university tours such as our International Experience Trip. The group, International Study Programs (ISP), is actually based in Prague. How serendipitous was that?
     Shortly thereafter, Professor Kaufman, our newest and youngest professor, resigned for

Clock Tower in the Main Square

personal reasons. That was sad for both of us as she was really looking forward to working together and planning the trip. Another professor stepped in but only as a second professor on the trip. Essentially, I was on my own. So, I secured a marketing student as an intern to help advertise and market the trip. Lisa Poletto, the marketing student, was magnificent. She made flyers and had me in videos. We were excited. I thought we would break participation records. Come on, Prague sells itself. For sure, I thought we would easily surpass the ten folks needed to justify the trip.
     Well… as usual, I overestimated my salesmanship. Even with the excellent help of Lisa, we ended up with hearty crew of seven of us, including me, that made the trip. I am the only professor on the trip. I have the good fortune, however, to be with six wonderful people. Four are graduate students, Mike, Melissa, Donna, and Johana. Donna’s friend Vita joined and lastly, Max is an alum of both SBNM and the North Park Seminary. Max and Donna have been on several of these trips. The three of us were in Sao Paulo last year. Bottomline, we are all adults, self-sufficient, and responsible so, in essence, there is very little to manage. We are an easy and congenial group. Our agency, ISP, has set-up everything. We all have an app on our phones with our itinerary, background on the country and culture, a write-up of each place we are visiting, and suggestions of what to do on our free time. Their app is like a travel guide.
     Prague? We have been here two days and it has not disappointed. Often when you hear

Cobblestone Streets everywhere,
some are quite narrow.

other rant and rave about a place, you get there and are let down a bit. This is not the case here. Like Buenos Aires, it is a city of cupolas. It is not a huge city. It is very easy to get around by walking, public transportation, and Uber. It is old Europe. Many buildings have been here for centuries and are in beautiful shape, left unscathed from the ravages of World War II. The newer buildings are two hundred years old. The city is clean and orderly. It has become a tourist haven, but one only feels that in the main tourist sites. Otherwise, you just get into the pace of life here which, refreshingly, seems to be a step slower than we are used to.
     We took a tour of the city on our first morning here. It was a brisk spring day that got increasingly windy as we approached the river beautiful Vitava river that divides the city in two. In a word, Prague is magnificent. It is so different and steeped in history than we are used to and eye-opening in that regard. I suppose that if one lived here, one would perhaps

Symphony Hall

take eventually get used to the old world feel and history and take it for granted. I wondered how people from Prague feel when they visit an American city like Chicago? I felt, more so than normal, that I should hole up in a café, sip coffee, and write deep thoughts. It is after all the city of Franz Kafka, Milan Kundera, and Vaclav Havel.

Melissa, Max, Johana, Mike, Vita, Donna and
our tour guides Teresa and Katerina

Jet-lagged Musings and Meanderings

Heathrow

      I am writing this sitting in Heathrow for a long unnecessary layover as my arriving and departing flights are essentially in the same terminal and there were no lines at passport control. I have four hours before my flight to Prague. I am enjoying the flow of people and the slightly different shops than I am used to. The shops will continue to converge. It is inevitable fact. It is globalization. The people are, of course, the same but yet different. I am after all in another country on another continent. So, the people seem a bit different. I am not at O’Hare or JFK. It is more European, more international, though I am not exactly sure what that means. There are more languages being spoken certainly. I want to say that the people are more chill, but it might be that I am just tired and travel weary and, thus, I am more chill. I want to say people are just people everywhere. I know that this is both true and not true. I am just tired enough and not so well-versed in psychology and sociology to easily to communicate what I am trying to say. At least today, I have an excuse.
     For example, is the man next to me an ex-CEO or a retired landscaper? Is he from the UK, France, or Scandanavia. It is hard to tell. I went to order coffee at a cross between a Caribou Coffee (do any still exist) and a Starbucks called Caffè Nero. The young, east Indian heritaged, server spoke with such a thick British accent that I experienced George Bernard Shaw’s adage of “two people separated by a common language.” Then again, I am not sure as I am also in need of hearing aids. It is that kind of day where I am OK with dichotomies.
      I have my good camera with me. I want to take photos of the people and make a coffee table book that probably no one would buy: An Afternoon at Heathrow. It has probably already been done dozens of times in Pinterest and Flickr.
      In the department of idle observations whilst sipping on a Caffé Nero Americano, I was noticing what men were wearing and not wearing. The only fellows with coats and ties also had airport and airline name tags hanging around their necks. I also noticed what kinds of briefcases and bags men were and were not sporting. No one had an old-fashioned hard shell, carry it only by the handle, old fashioned briefcase. A few gents had soft bags slung over one shoulder. The vast majority, by far, sported backpacks. I saw one fellow wearing a Michigan hat but two gents with Spartan ones! I am fairly confident that I was the only fellow in all of Heathrow wearing a North Park University cap.

      I should have bought a pass to the British Airways lounge. I should have holed up in there and done some serious grading. But, I am feeling tired, yet serene, and people watching is exactly what I should be doing. Anything else would require more focus than I capable of mustering. And, my mind and spirit were more in the watching what others were doing than actually doing anything myself.
     Thank you, Heathrow, it was a nice little slice of life afternoon.

Republic Square in Prague

Our Student and Alumni Travelers

Going to Prague

tripadvisor.com

       I am 31,000 feet above Newfoundland en route from Chicago to London Heathrow. It never ceases to amaze me that I type a letter on an airplane and post it on my blog. What enables this is the WiFi on the plane. It probably isn’t that big a deal anymore but I still find it very cool.
     I am on the North Park University School of Business and Nonprofit Management (SBNM) International Experience. This year we are going to Prague. We generally like to have at least ten student/alumni travelers but that is not the case this year. We are an intrepid band of seven.
     As airlines require a minimum of ten for a group rate, we all booked our own flights. I booked mine first and choose American Airlines and British Airways simply because of my status with American having traveled for so many years. Everyone else booked their flights after I did but they are all going through other hubs were the layovers are not so long. It is so daunting to navigate the expanse of Heathrow that my travel agent booked it so I had plenty of time, four hours, to get between the terminals. As a result, I get to Prague last.
     Why Prague? It is very simple. I have never been there but have heard marvelous things about the city and the Czech Republic. The Old City in Prague has amazing architecture unscathed from the ravages of World War II and the years of communist rule. It is as old Europe as one can get.
     It is my third such trip. The first two were to Costa Rica in 2016 and Sao Paulo in 2018. On both those trips I was an assistant director for the trip. Our Dean, Wes Lindahl, has served as tour director for several years. This year, I have the honor of being the tour leader. We started out with two co-directors professors but due to the smaller number of travelers, I am doing this trip solo.
     These trips are really fascinating. We visit for profit companies and nonprofit organizations (NGOs in Europe). We learn about how they operate and conduct business. We learn about their strengths, weaknesses, and challenges. Students take an associated for credit course in which they summarize the learnings and reflections into a paper. We will debrief every evening during our trip. On this trip we will be visiting a glassworks factory and a brewery. Czechs are known for both their crystal manufacturing and their centuries old breweries. Beer may well be the most popular beverage there. We are also visiting the Volkswagen Skoda plant. On the nonprofit side we will spend time at a tech hub, visit an NGO that deals with the immigrant issue, and learn about the Czech evolution from communism to EU membership.
     We even take time to immerse ourselves in the culture and cuisine of the Czech Republic. We will take a city tour focusing on the oldest buildings and take a side trip to see, arguably, a typical Czech village in the country side and experience how village life has changed but more importantly how it hasn’t.
     I cannot go anywhere in this world without an Armenian connection or experience. This trip is no different. There are a few Armenian churches and restaurants in Prague. More importantly, I have become Facebook friends with one Haig Utidjian who is from Cyprus now living in Prague. He is a deacon in the Armenian Church as well a composer and musicologist. His great, great, great uncle was a student of Hampartsum Baba. We are meetng up Sunday for church service and lunch. How cool is this?
     Stay tuned for more postings on this trip.

Celebrating Sixteen Years

Flickr Ben Verrall

     In February 2004, I sent out my first e-letter. I had been writing a page, about 500 words, every day since June 25, 2002. I had pages upon pages of ramblings which were supposed to have been a book that chronicled my fiftieth year. It was a great idea but the writing was to introspective with whiney undertones. I was wondering, however, what to do with all my writing. I ran across a few examples of letters written by a Philadelphia born Armenian lawyer, Aram Kevorkian. He lived in Paris and started sending out monthly letters to friends and family on legal matters. Aram had passed away in December of 2003. Almost immediately, the idea of writing a monthly letter. My friend who I commuted into the city with, Marilyn Davidow, named the letter, This Side of Fifty: A Monthly Letter of Musings and Meanderings.
     I sent out a monthly e-letter to family and friends faithfully. It was a lot of fun and a great project. I emailed it to a list that grew to around 450 people via yahoogroups. People suggested I make it a blog but for several years but resisted mainly because I did not have any more time to dedicate to writing or a writing related project like starting blog. With the Great Recession, however, I had plenty of free time and created the blog you are reading now. I continued to send a monthly e-letter which I also posted on the blog. By 2015, I had basically stopped sending monthly letters by email and was exclusively using this blog. My monthly letters averaged about 2,000 words. I blogged more often with posts being between a quarter to a half of that e-letter word count.
     When I began this project, I used to handwrite everything first. That began to change when I bought an iPad in 2010. I found myself writing more and more on my iPad that had a Bluetooth keyboard. When it came time to by another iPad, I opted for the smaller screen MacbookAir on which I am typing this piece. I do miss the handwriting but the convenience of having everything digital and stored in the cloud is just too convenient. These days I also clip articles and jot down ideas for future bloggy bits on Evernote.
     This has been a great avocation and hobby for me. I always wanted to write and be a writer. Mostly, I envisioned being a famous novelist, poet, or commentator. Basically, I thought I would make my living writing. That was not to be. Actually, even at this age, I think it a possibility. OK, I am not a professional writer, but I am a writer. I write because I want to, I enjoy it, and feel like I have something say.
     In my last post of 2018, I basically made a commitment to self-publish The Best of This Side of Fifty. If you have any favorites, let me know. Happy Sweet Sixteen from This Side of Fifty.

==== o ====

The most read posts are on this blog are:

• The Detroit Lions
• Rabbit's Feet
• For Love of the Music: Hachig and Richard
• Never Give Up!
• Coexist Bumper Stickers
• The Dog Ate My Homework
• Dixie Cream Donut Flour
• Cooley High School
• Sweet Voice
• Overwhelming Perspective