Lifeboat
"Nowhere Man, please listen, you don't know what you're missing,
Nowhere Man, the world is at your command.
He's as blind as he can be, just sees what he wants to see.
Isn't he a lot like you and me?"
-- The Beatles
Every human being on Earth depends on someone. No exceptions. OK, we can argue over the definition of dependence. But doesn't that make my point? It takes two to argue. It is physically and mentally impossible to live in a vacuum.
You would never have been separated from your mother's uterus if someone didn't cut your umbilical cord. Certainly humans can survive outside the womb for a period of time, but without another human's womb, they never would exist at all.
People have survived on deserted islands for years, but only because they had acquired certain skills prior to being stranded. They learned those skills from another person. Scientists call the human race a family tree. I would agree because we are all connected at some point. Without Eve, none of us would exist. In essence, each one of us is the result of someone that came before us. Our generation depends on their ability to survive long enough to procreate. Step by step, humans feed on the trunk of the tree.
You would never have uttered a word if you never heard another person's voice. Money means nothing if you have no one to accept it in trade.
So why is this an important point? Who cares if we are all dependent on someone else at some point in our lives? Is this just a point of intellectual masturbation or is there something more tangible involved? In our current social instability, where the issue of social responsibility, of defending our species from a projected extinction due to climate change or the rampant spread of deadly viruses, it is common to hear people say, "We are all in this together!"
Earth as a big lifeboat. Humans are in it as we sail across the Universe. We have yet to see "land" anywhere out in the vast sea of space, so we are confronting each other about our chances of survival. According to some of the occupants our provisions are running short. Some accuse others of hogging supplies, and threaten to withhold food and water if they don't stop using more than their "fair share". Others are hard at work figuring out how to collect rainwater and how to fish.
When one of the occupants comes down with a fever, there is a quiet discussion about tossing them overboard before whatever they have spreads. Some say they aren't worried, because if necessary, they will revert to cannibalism. We are a bunch of weirdos, that's for sure. We may all come from the same seed, from a common trunk, but the branches go in many different directions and sprout leaves of a thousand colors.
When our life boat hits rough water, and someone begins to sing, others scream out loud because the song is about a man and a woman in love, so it triggers a sense of outrage. They say they feel disrespected and discriminated against because they are transgender. So they demand the singing stop.
I say, "But we are all in this together!"
"That's right, but…"
But what? Either we are all in this together or we're not. No buts. If your lifeboat is getting pulled into a current and the occupants can't agree which direction to paddle, we all go down together. How hard is it to understand that concept? We all have to subjugate some of our personal wants, our prejudices, our inner demons, anger and resentments so we can survive another day.
Singing is a coping mechanism designed to bring everyone together, to help us harmonize our efforts, to soothe our anxieties, not to create anxiety. Can we at least agree that singing is good for all of us, and then discuss what to sing?
I am not a big fan of collectivism, but when the chips are down, when the entire species is under assault, I know we have a better chance of surviving if we play as a team. That means we have to have some commonality of purpose. That means we all have a role to play and we can't all be the starting pitcher either. We have to establish some trust in each other, and in our intentions as a species.
It is humans versus extinction. Winner takes all. Are we all in?
That means you and me! I give up a little of my pride and ambition, you give up some of your narcissism. There has to be humility involved. There has to be something bigger than ourselves and immediate gratification. I don't ask you to do something beyond what I would ask of myself, and vice versa.
For example, when one person demands that we all share equally the food we have, I am OK with that. But don't assume there will never be more food. We have a vast ocean that our lifeboat floats on that can be harvested. Don't restrict me from fishing.
I, on the other hand, must accept that some have strong emotions about their gender. Fine, I can work around that. Just don't ask me to be your sperm donor.
This lifeboat is not a zero sum game. What won't work is a power play. We don't need one person or one group deciding they are the Head Coach. We will never be successful if our lifeboat turns into a prison where the team is playing under protest. Every player has something to offer, a role to play, a position they excel at. Finding that combination, agreeing to pull the boat in the same direction, is the challenge humans face every day.
Depending on each other doesn't require approval or subjugation. It does, however, require agreement on the goal: We must determine what we are trying to accomplish. Are we in this life boat because we want the human species to survive beyond our existence or are we just here to experience the ride and ultimately be submerged by that Rogue Wave we all know is out there somewhere waiting to put humanity to rest for eternity.
When I started writing seriously in 2012, I centered my themes on my own personal family, my community family or our nation's family. I believed then as I do now, that for Americans, the single most crucial element of our species success is the veneration of the Nuclear Family. Whether you believe in God or not, there is an undeniable genius in the design of the human species, and how it survives against unforgiving odds.
Philosophers down through the ages all agree, in order to fend off threats from nature, from the animal kingdom and from other humans that have only their own selfish interests and needs at heart, human beings' ultimate immune system is the Family Unit.
I think about a primeval man, living in a cave, struggling to survive freezing cold, desperate to feed himself, and comforted only by the companionship of another person who shares a desperation to survive. They ultimately become intimate as we all know the sex drive is mankind's most powerful emotion. They produce offspring and they have an instinctive need to provide food and sustenance to those babies so they will carry on the species.
What am I missing here?
How obvious does it have to be to understand how important and vital a family unit is to the promulgation of mankind. Sorry, it doesn't work with same sex couples. It doesn't work if each one of the species has to be subjugated to the other or vice versa. If the human race goes extinct due to homosexuality, it will be the first biological species to do that. It is like red and white blood cells: Both are necessary to a healthy organism.
There should be a hierarchy simply because decisions, and evolution, can't be accomplished by committee. It means that one of the two family leaders has to be held accountable for those decisions. It doesn't mean they can't consult, or work in harmony, but there has to be some sort of process. When the red and white blood cells get out of balance, when the chemistry of the immune system gets out of whack, the organism's future is threatened.
The idea that life is an organism, which over time matures, is really just a way to illustrate what is otherwise an abstraction. There is so much humans don't understand about our condition, and maybe we never will. We try, but God made us to be in awe of his work, just so we don't start thinking we can be him.
Over the years I have questioned why some families thrive and some disintegrate. I cannot say I know precisely why some succeed and some do not, but if I had to guess I would suggest that there has to be some sort of common thread that ties them together. It could be an outside threat, or it could be something as innocent as a love of the ocean. It could be religious beliefs, or it could be ethnic solidarity.
Whatever the thread is, it needs to be sewn into the family structure like sutures in a surgical incision. Life is fragile, wounds are deep and healing is a process, but without those sutures the organism is likely to collapse on its own weight. Because the family is naturally made up of unique biological individuals, there will be friction. It is a microcosm of Earth's ecological system. Each member will test their boundaries, they will clash with another member, and there will always be challenges to authority and some will have resentments and those will develop into internecine battles for attention and love. Some will succeed and some will fail. It is, for lack of a less scientific term, natural selection.
But the challenge is to deal with all of that as though your life depends on it; because it does. The truth is if we can't hold our family together, if we can't overcome our personal anxieties and if we let our anger divide us, what makes us think we can ever live a full and satisfying life? Or achieve World Peace?
As the Beatles said, "All you need is love" but what they failed to mention is you also need a dose of humility too. This is how humans can use the family unit to project some sense of organization and mutual respect on other cultures around the world.
Every family needs an umbilical cord. A connection to reality, to other struggling people and to God. In my family it was outdoor activity and spending time together battling forces of opposition. We went snorkeling, water skiing and snow skiing. We were always on the road in the family station wagon going somewhere to do something adventurous. We struggled with weather conditions, equipment failures and attitudes. Yes, we fought a lot, but it was only because we were together. It is easy to avoid conflict, but confronting it is much healthier.
When I say we fought, it wasn't physical. It was verbal sparring. We argued about everyday issues of being late, of forgetting to bring the right equipment, of being disrespectful or ignoring others feelings. My dad demanded his sons always respect their mother. He insisted that we were never to use foul language around her, never to disregard her directions or to talk back. Those were sacrosanct rules never to be disobeyed, ever! I didn't stop to think "Why?" I just followed his instructions. It was easier to do what I was told. It wasn't like my dad had a ton of rules. Just ones he thought were important enough to enforce, rigidly.
I resented my folks demanding I do what they wanted me to do. But that is how our minds develop and form character. They would remind me, there will come a time when you will have to make your own decisions. Be warned, when that time comes, life will get much harder.
It took my folks five years to find a new house when we left Altadena to get closer to El Segundo where my dad worked at North American Rockwell. They made me ride in the back seat almost every weekend while we househunted all over the coast of LA, from Pacific Palisades to Palos Verdes Peninsula. God, I hated that! I was bored silly, but I had no choice in the matter, so I suffered in silence.
It is natural for kids to want to be autonomous. In the end, I loved going to the Colorado River to water ski, though I hated the long drive. I hated having to bundle up in heavy and cumbersome ski wear when we went snow skiing. My gloves would get filled with snow, my bootlaces would freeze. It was no walk in the park. But I did love the idea that we were always doing things together. Adventurous things.
And over time I acquired certain skill sets that would serve me well for many years to come. I learned how to protect myself from sun and snow, how to be coached, how to allocate my time, how to be alone for extended periods of time, and most importantly, how to depend on myself to figure out how to deal with adversity.
My parents had many common interests, including sports and outdoor activities. They tended to associate with other couples who shared those interests, so their kids and I also had commonalities. As the years went on, many of those kids have become lifelong friends.
I wonder why?
I know I am somewhat unusual because I have dozens of people I have shared my lifetime with. It shocks me when I discover this is not very common. What causes so many of us to grow apart? In the modern world logistics should not be a big factor. We can stay in touch in many ways, and we can share our experiences and our family too. But so many people just let those connections fade away.
Why?
I know we go through growing stages of identity crisis, we go off to college, we get married, we follow job opportunities and in too many cases we let all of those overcome the important stabilizing elements of long term friendships. Having a large circle of friends is in itself a sort of family unit. We should nurture it, but unfortunately most don't.
When Cathy and I decided to get married, as we planned the big event, the questions came up as to who amongst our closest friends would serve as best man and bridesmaid. In the end we decided that we would have our parents stand with us as we read our vows. We wanted to honor their commitments, their dedication and their unconditional love for their children. I have never regretted that for a moment…
We have since raised our children with similar common threads. Like my parents, who were divided over religion, we have always told our kids it is up to them to decide if they want to believe in God, if they want to go to church, if they want to follow science or if they chose to find their own way. We have invested our trust in their intellect to make their own decisions and to believe in themselves. Decades later, my daughter is a devout Christian, my son is a Man of Science.
My dad was a Man of Science. He was an aeronautical engineer. He had no sense of biblical beliefs, even though his parents were both strong Christians. My mom was very invested in her Methodist upbringing, but she never insisted my dad change his views. She did require me to attend Sunday School, but when I complained that it was uncomfortable for me to repeat psalms and to sing in the choir, she said it was up to me to decide what I wanted to do.
This form of soft guidance and subtle investments in the ability of kids to think for themselves was a trademark of the post World War II generation. But I think the most important control factor was the requirement to be held accountable for making bad decisions. In my parents' case, my dad always said, "I will never raise a hand to you. But don't mistake that for permission." When I failed to follow directions, to perform duties or got caught lying, there was always a price to pay.
My mom was perhaps a little less demanding, but when she set limits, she was serious. After all, she controlled the dinner table, the TV and the schedule. My dad would suspend my privileges, or take away my bike. My mom would restrict my TV time or my diet! I don't know which was worse but I tried like hell to avoid either punishment.
My mom was the ultimate female. She dressed like a Hollywood movie star. She always looked beautiful, mostly because she was a natural beauty, but she was proud of her appearance. She had impeccable taste in clothing, in makeup and she just carried herself in a way that grabbed attention.
My dad was quite the opposite. I don't think he had any idea what a hunk he was. He simply didn't care about his day to day appearance. My mom made sure he dressed well for work, and he did! But on weekends, he was just another man's man. He was ruggedly handsome, but never stood out for his physicality or his demeanor. Hugh was Hugh. He was gregarious, sporting and super smart. He could talk all day about aeronautical engineering, the space program and the Dodgers. He knew skiing, fishing and skin diving, but Hugh had little or no interest in chess, bridge or poker. He was not a gambling man because there is no science to games of chance.
My parents loved to brag about my older brother. He was a high achiever, always winning awards in the classroom, and on the sports field. He was an outstanding student and a letterman. He competed at everything he took an interest in. He eventually acquired a Masters Degree at the USC Business School. He immediately joined a well respected commercial real estate firm in San Diego, where he eventually became a Vice-President.
I was quite the opposite. Never much of a competitor, though I loved Little League and was named All District All Star. But I never caught the 'joiner' bug. I have always appreciated the impact of playing on a team has on young people and the important moral and personal lessons to be gained, but when I went to high school I just couldn't discipline myself enough to conform to the athletic departments rules and regulations.
The very first day at highschool, the administration had all of the freshmen gather in the grandstands at the football field for orientation. They went over all of the rules and expectations, and had us all sign an agreement that we understood what was expected over the next four years. Just as we were to be dismissed, the football coach corralled me and said I was to go home and not come back until I trimmed my sideburns to acceptable length. I had over the summer let them become mutton chops because I thought it made me look like Chuck Berry.
That was the end of any idea that I might follow in my big brother's footsteps and play sports in high school. As a creative type, I had no patience for conformity. Besides, what was it about my grooming choice that was non-conforming? It seemed to me to be entirely subjective and irrational.
Unlike my older brother, I didn't really develop a self identity for years. He knew which group he aligned with. He wore well pressed Madras shirts and penny loafers. He joined a car club and a fraternity. I bounced between creative arts, social science and music appreciation all through high school. I leaned towards music even though I had no ability to play an instrument or to sing. I took guitar lessons, to no avail. I tried piano for a month. I took Boys Chorus, which degenerated into repeatedly singing Van Morrison and Them's iconic rendition of "Gloria" over and over again just so the teacher could maintain decorum for an hour. I alternately wore baggy pants and Pendleton shirts or striped rugby shirts, khakis and horochi sandals. I wasn't sure if I was a gremmie or a lowrider.
When it was time to choose a college, I decided California State University at Long Beach would be good. It was just far enough away from home I would be on my own, but close enough I could still be involved in our family water and snow ski trips, which I loved. CSULB was close to the beach and peppered with California Girls, and it was fairly new, so the facilities were excellent.
It was skiing that was ultimately that thread that held my family together over the years. In fact, during my four years at CSULB I ended up working at a series of ski shops owned by a friend of my mother. She decided once the boys were out of the house she wanted to go to work to keep busy, so she hooked up with an entrepreneur friend who had recently opened a ski and tennis specialty shop. Between semesters I worked in the back room doing ski tune ups, or maintaining the rental equipment. I learned how to tune skis, to mount bindings, to string tennis rackets and how to use a cash register.
Over the years, as I became an accomplished skier, I would step into the sales department when a salesman went on vacation. I demonstrated some skill at selling and was eventually promoted.
Later, when I was passed over for a store manager position in one of the many new locations, and I sensed I was losing out to a series of preferred friends of the owner, I went over to the local competitor and became an assistant manager. The Ski-Surf Shop, in Manhattan Beach California, was a funky single store operation. The owner was a charismatic surfboard shaper turned ski business entrepreneur. He had an uncanny ability to sense market opportunities and consumer demands, and he constantly led the local market by introducing the latest and greatest innovations in equipment and clothing.
Ski boots were a constant source of irritation for me and I was certain I was not alone in that sentiment, so I became an expert ski boot fitter. At some point we were introduced to orthotics, which I immediately embraced as the solution for skiing foot cramps. The owner agreed to offer a 100% money back guarantee to anyone who purchased ski boots from us as long as they had custom fitted orthotics. No questions asked, if you were not 100% happy with the fit and performance, we would refund your purchase price or exchange your boots for another pair. Our boot sales skyrocketed! We outsold all of the competitors, which gave us access to better lines and better wholesale prices. It was a win-win! Customers would become raving fans which led them to spend all of their ski allowance money with us.
At about the same time I graduated from the Radio/TV Department at CSULB and started working full time in the ski industry, my mom followed me over to the Ski-Surf Shop. We became integral parts of the growth of the little shop. When I started there in 1972, the owner was doing about $500K a year in sales of ski equipment, tennis gear and surf accessories. When I left five years later to start my own business, the Ski-Surf Shop posted $5M in annual sales. Like any successful enterprise, it always looks easier than it is.
The ski business was fun because it was seasonal. Very intense for 5 or 6 months a year, then slower while the summer months passed. Though we sold surf supplies, the owner realized early on he could not devote the energy it took to shape surfboards and make a name for himself in the surf scene. Besides, he needed downtime because his business was booming and he also liked to sail.
As soon as he could afford a sailboat, I was left to man the store all summer long. It was boring!
One Spring day a friend of the owner pulled into the parking lot with a van pulling a ski boat. The van and the boat were painted and pinstriped to match. It was a hot setup! Next thing I know I am going water skiing 6 or 7 times during the summer months. A steady group of waterski enthusiasts formed and we were fortunate to have a private beach along an irrigation canal in the vineyards of Kingsburg, just a few miles south of Fresno, California.
It had a beautiful grass covered campground, with shade trees, and a restroom facility and four separate docks. We were upstream from the more popular Kings River Resort, and close to the Pine Flats Reservoir dam that provided the irrigation water for the whole valley.
That upper section of the "river" was narrow with a fast current. It could be dangerous, but it also gave us smooth water and less traffic. We could ski hard until late morning, then play golf at the nearby private country club, take a nap or play frisbee until late in the afternoon, then enjoy some great smooth 'bug runs' at dusk. We called those late rides 'bug runs' because the water would be smooth as glass causing us to smile so much, the evening bugs would get stuck in our teeth.
One day, as I was tending the store, a young, very well dressed man came in and began speaking to me about the water ski aspects of our business. He was representing some water ski products and wanted to know if Ski-Surf Shop would be interested in carrying them. I said if we tested them out and affirmed their worthiness, sure! More about that later…
Meantime, I was very familiar with the operational aspects of running the retail business, the personnel commitment required and the necessity of long term financial backing. My brother was an established commercial real estate broker in San Diego, and he and his wife had strong ties to the larger community. He had three kids and the whole family skied, but he noted that there were very few serious ski shops in the area, and as the population inevitably grew, the need for specialty equipment would only grow more widespread.
Over Thanksgiving dinner at our parents house, he asked me if I would be interested in opening my own ski business in the San Diego area? He was interested because he hated having to go to LA to get his equipment. I would have to move, of course…
I had just recently ended a long term relationship. I was heartbroken and in an emotional funk. It felt like a lifeboat had just pulled into my harbor.
***
Nowhere Man, the world is at your command.
He's as blind as he can be, just sees what he wants to see.
Isn't he a lot like you and me?"
-- The Beatles
Every human being on Earth depends on someone. No exceptions. OK, we can argue over the definition of dependence. But doesn't that make my point? It takes two to argue. It is physically and mentally impossible to live in a vacuum.
You would never have been separated from your mother's uterus if someone didn't cut your umbilical cord. Certainly humans can survive outside the womb for a period of time, but without another human's womb, they never would exist at all.
People have survived on deserted islands for years, but only because they had acquired certain skills prior to being stranded. They learned those skills from another person. Scientists call the human race a family tree. I would agree because we are all connected at some point. Without Eve, none of us would exist. In essence, each one of us is the result of someone that came before us. Our generation depends on their ability to survive long enough to procreate. Step by step, humans feed on the trunk of the tree.
You would never have uttered a word if you never heard another person's voice. Money means nothing if you have no one to accept it in trade.
So why is this an important point? Who cares if we are all dependent on someone else at some point in our lives? Is this just a point of intellectual masturbation or is there something more tangible involved? In our current social instability, where the issue of social responsibility, of defending our species from a projected extinction due to climate change or the rampant spread of deadly viruses, it is common to hear people say, "We are all in this together!"
Earth as a big lifeboat. Humans are in it as we sail across the Universe. We have yet to see "land" anywhere out in the vast sea of space, so we are confronting each other about our chances of survival. According to some of the occupants our provisions are running short. Some accuse others of hogging supplies, and threaten to withhold food and water if they don't stop using more than their "fair share". Others are hard at work figuring out how to collect rainwater and how to fish.
When one of the occupants comes down with a fever, there is a quiet discussion about tossing them overboard before whatever they have spreads. Some say they aren't worried, because if necessary, they will revert to cannibalism. We are a bunch of weirdos, that's for sure. We may all come from the same seed, from a common trunk, but the branches go in many different directions and sprout leaves of a thousand colors.
When our life boat hits rough water, and someone begins to sing, others scream out loud because the song is about a man and a woman in love, so it triggers a sense of outrage. They say they feel disrespected and discriminated against because they are transgender. So they demand the singing stop.
I say, "But we are all in this together!"
"That's right, but…"
But what? Either we are all in this together or we're not. No buts. If your lifeboat is getting pulled into a current and the occupants can't agree which direction to paddle, we all go down together. How hard is it to understand that concept? We all have to subjugate some of our personal wants, our prejudices, our inner demons, anger and resentments so we can survive another day.
Singing is a coping mechanism designed to bring everyone together, to help us harmonize our efforts, to soothe our anxieties, not to create anxiety. Can we at least agree that singing is good for all of us, and then discuss what to sing?
I am not a big fan of collectivism, but when the chips are down, when the entire species is under assault, I know we have a better chance of surviving if we play as a team. That means we have to have some commonality of purpose. That means we all have a role to play and we can't all be the starting pitcher either. We have to establish some trust in each other, and in our intentions as a species.
It is humans versus extinction. Winner takes all. Are we all in?
That means you and me! I give up a little of my pride and ambition, you give up some of your narcissism. There has to be humility involved. There has to be something bigger than ourselves and immediate gratification. I don't ask you to do something beyond what I would ask of myself, and vice versa.
For example, when one person demands that we all share equally the food we have, I am OK with that. But don't assume there will never be more food. We have a vast ocean that our lifeboat floats on that can be harvested. Don't restrict me from fishing.
I, on the other hand, must accept that some have strong emotions about their gender. Fine, I can work around that. Just don't ask me to be your sperm donor.
This lifeboat is not a zero sum game. What won't work is a power play. We don't need one person or one group deciding they are the Head Coach. We will never be successful if our lifeboat turns into a prison where the team is playing under protest. Every player has something to offer, a role to play, a position they excel at. Finding that combination, agreeing to pull the boat in the same direction, is the challenge humans face every day.
Depending on each other doesn't require approval or subjugation. It does, however, require agreement on the goal: We must determine what we are trying to accomplish. Are we in this life boat because we want the human species to survive beyond our existence or are we just here to experience the ride and ultimately be submerged by that Rogue Wave we all know is out there somewhere waiting to put humanity to rest for eternity.
When I started writing seriously in 2012, I centered my themes on my own personal family, my community family or our nation's family. I believed then as I do now, that for Americans, the single most crucial element of our species success is the veneration of the Nuclear Family. Whether you believe in God or not, there is an undeniable genius in the design of the human species, and how it survives against unforgiving odds.
Philosophers down through the ages all agree, in order to fend off threats from nature, from the animal kingdom and from other humans that have only their own selfish interests and needs at heart, human beings' ultimate immune system is the Family Unit.
I think about a primeval man, living in a cave, struggling to survive freezing cold, desperate to feed himself, and comforted only by the companionship of another person who shares a desperation to survive. They ultimately become intimate as we all know the sex drive is mankind's most powerful emotion. They produce offspring and they have an instinctive need to provide food and sustenance to those babies so they will carry on the species.
What am I missing here?
How obvious does it have to be to understand how important and vital a family unit is to the promulgation of mankind. Sorry, it doesn't work with same sex couples. It doesn't work if each one of the species has to be subjugated to the other or vice versa. If the human race goes extinct due to homosexuality, it will be the first biological species to do that. It is like red and white blood cells: Both are necessary to a healthy organism.
There should be a hierarchy simply because decisions, and evolution, can't be accomplished by committee. It means that one of the two family leaders has to be held accountable for those decisions. It doesn't mean they can't consult, or work in harmony, but there has to be some sort of process. When the red and white blood cells get out of balance, when the chemistry of the immune system gets out of whack, the organism's future is threatened.
The idea that life is an organism, which over time matures, is really just a way to illustrate what is otherwise an abstraction. There is so much humans don't understand about our condition, and maybe we never will. We try, but God made us to be in awe of his work, just so we don't start thinking we can be him.
Over the years I have questioned why some families thrive and some disintegrate. I cannot say I know precisely why some succeed and some do not, but if I had to guess I would suggest that there has to be some sort of common thread that ties them together. It could be an outside threat, or it could be something as innocent as a love of the ocean. It could be religious beliefs, or it could be ethnic solidarity.
Whatever the thread is, it needs to be sewn into the family structure like sutures in a surgical incision. Life is fragile, wounds are deep and healing is a process, but without those sutures the organism is likely to collapse on its own weight. Because the family is naturally made up of unique biological individuals, there will be friction. It is a microcosm of Earth's ecological system. Each member will test their boundaries, they will clash with another member, and there will always be challenges to authority and some will have resentments and those will develop into internecine battles for attention and love. Some will succeed and some will fail. It is, for lack of a less scientific term, natural selection.
But the challenge is to deal with all of that as though your life depends on it; because it does. The truth is if we can't hold our family together, if we can't overcome our personal anxieties and if we let our anger divide us, what makes us think we can ever live a full and satisfying life? Or achieve World Peace?
As the Beatles said, "All you need is love" but what they failed to mention is you also need a dose of humility too. This is how humans can use the family unit to project some sense of organization and mutual respect on other cultures around the world.
Every family needs an umbilical cord. A connection to reality, to other struggling people and to God. In my family it was outdoor activity and spending time together battling forces of opposition. We went snorkeling, water skiing and snow skiing. We were always on the road in the family station wagon going somewhere to do something adventurous. We struggled with weather conditions, equipment failures and attitudes. Yes, we fought a lot, but it was only because we were together. It is easy to avoid conflict, but confronting it is much healthier.
When I say we fought, it wasn't physical. It was verbal sparring. We argued about everyday issues of being late, of forgetting to bring the right equipment, of being disrespectful or ignoring others feelings. My dad demanded his sons always respect their mother. He insisted that we were never to use foul language around her, never to disregard her directions or to talk back. Those were sacrosanct rules never to be disobeyed, ever! I didn't stop to think "Why?" I just followed his instructions. It was easier to do what I was told. It wasn't like my dad had a ton of rules. Just ones he thought were important enough to enforce, rigidly.
I resented my folks demanding I do what they wanted me to do. But that is how our minds develop and form character. They would remind me, there will come a time when you will have to make your own decisions. Be warned, when that time comes, life will get much harder.
It took my folks five years to find a new house when we left Altadena to get closer to El Segundo where my dad worked at North American Rockwell. They made me ride in the back seat almost every weekend while we househunted all over the coast of LA, from Pacific Palisades to Palos Verdes Peninsula. God, I hated that! I was bored silly, but I had no choice in the matter, so I suffered in silence.
It is natural for kids to want to be autonomous. In the end, I loved going to the Colorado River to water ski, though I hated the long drive. I hated having to bundle up in heavy and cumbersome ski wear when we went snow skiing. My gloves would get filled with snow, my bootlaces would freeze. It was no walk in the park. But I did love the idea that we were always doing things together. Adventurous things.
And over time I acquired certain skill sets that would serve me well for many years to come. I learned how to protect myself from sun and snow, how to be coached, how to allocate my time, how to be alone for extended periods of time, and most importantly, how to depend on myself to figure out how to deal with adversity.
My parents had many common interests, including sports and outdoor activities. They tended to associate with other couples who shared those interests, so their kids and I also had commonalities. As the years went on, many of those kids have become lifelong friends.
I wonder why?
I know I am somewhat unusual because I have dozens of people I have shared my lifetime with. It shocks me when I discover this is not very common. What causes so many of us to grow apart? In the modern world logistics should not be a big factor. We can stay in touch in many ways, and we can share our experiences and our family too. But so many people just let those connections fade away.
Why?
I know we go through growing stages of identity crisis, we go off to college, we get married, we follow job opportunities and in too many cases we let all of those overcome the important stabilizing elements of long term friendships. Having a large circle of friends is in itself a sort of family unit. We should nurture it, but unfortunately most don't.
When Cathy and I decided to get married, as we planned the big event, the questions came up as to who amongst our closest friends would serve as best man and bridesmaid. In the end we decided that we would have our parents stand with us as we read our vows. We wanted to honor their commitments, their dedication and their unconditional love for their children. I have never regretted that for a moment…
We have since raised our children with similar common threads. Like my parents, who were divided over religion, we have always told our kids it is up to them to decide if they want to believe in God, if they want to go to church, if they want to follow science or if they chose to find their own way. We have invested our trust in their intellect to make their own decisions and to believe in themselves. Decades later, my daughter is a devout Christian, my son is a Man of Science.
My dad was a Man of Science. He was an aeronautical engineer. He had no sense of biblical beliefs, even though his parents were both strong Christians. My mom was very invested in her Methodist upbringing, but she never insisted my dad change his views. She did require me to attend Sunday School, but when I complained that it was uncomfortable for me to repeat psalms and to sing in the choir, she said it was up to me to decide what I wanted to do.
This form of soft guidance and subtle investments in the ability of kids to think for themselves was a trademark of the post World War II generation. But I think the most important control factor was the requirement to be held accountable for making bad decisions. In my parents' case, my dad always said, "I will never raise a hand to you. But don't mistake that for permission." When I failed to follow directions, to perform duties or got caught lying, there was always a price to pay.
My mom was perhaps a little less demanding, but when she set limits, she was serious. After all, she controlled the dinner table, the TV and the schedule. My dad would suspend my privileges, or take away my bike. My mom would restrict my TV time or my diet! I don't know which was worse but I tried like hell to avoid either punishment.
My mom was the ultimate female. She dressed like a Hollywood movie star. She always looked beautiful, mostly because she was a natural beauty, but she was proud of her appearance. She had impeccable taste in clothing, in makeup and she just carried herself in a way that grabbed attention.
My dad was quite the opposite. I don't think he had any idea what a hunk he was. He simply didn't care about his day to day appearance. My mom made sure he dressed well for work, and he did! But on weekends, he was just another man's man. He was ruggedly handsome, but never stood out for his physicality or his demeanor. Hugh was Hugh. He was gregarious, sporting and super smart. He could talk all day about aeronautical engineering, the space program and the Dodgers. He knew skiing, fishing and skin diving, but Hugh had little or no interest in chess, bridge or poker. He was not a gambling man because there is no science to games of chance.
My parents loved to brag about my older brother. He was a high achiever, always winning awards in the classroom, and on the sports field. He was an outstanding student and a letterman. He competed at everything he took an interest in. He eventually acquired a Masters Degree at the USC Business School. He immediately joined a well respected commercial real estate firm in San Diego, where he eventually became a Vice-President.
I was quite the opposite. Never much of a competitor, though I loved Little League and was named All District All Star. But I never caught the 'joiner' bug. I have always appreciated the impact of playing on a team has on young people and the important moral and personal lessons to be gained, but when I went to high school I just couldn't discipline myself enough to conform to the athletic departments rules and regulations.
The very first day at highschool, the administration had all of the freshmen gather in the grandstands at the football field for orientation. They went over all of the rules and expectations, and had us all sign an agreement that we understood what was expected over the next four years. Just as we were to be dismissed, the football coach corralled me and said I was to go home and not come back until I trimmed my sideburns to acceptable length. I had over the summer let them become mutton chops because I thought it made me look like Chuck Berry.
That was the end of any idea that I might follow in my big brother's footsteps and play sports in high school. As a creative type, I had no patience for conformity. Besides, what was it about my grooming choice that was non-conforming? It seemed to me to be entirely subjective and irrational.
Unlike my older brother, I didn't really develop a self identity for years. He knew which group he aligned with. He wore well pressed Madras shirts and penny loafers. He joined a car club and a fraternity. I bounced between creative arts, social science and music appreciation all through high school. I leaned towards music even though I had no ability to play an instrument or to sing. I took guitar lessons, to no avail. I tried piano for a month. I took Boys Chorus, which degenerated into repeatedly singing Van Morrison and Them's iconic rendition of "Gloria" over and over again just so the teacher could maintain decorum for an hour. I alternately wore baggy pants and Pendleton shirts or striped rugby shirts, khakis and horochi sandals. I wasn't sure if I was a gremmie or a lowrider.
When it was time to choose a college, I decided California State University at Long Beach would be good. It was just far enough away from home I would be on my own, but close enough I could still be involved in our family water and snow ski trips, which I loved. CSULB was close to the beach and peppered with California Girls, and it was fairly new, so the facilities were excellent.
It was skiing that was ultimately that thread that held my family together over the years. In fact, during my four years at CSULB I ended up working at a series of ski shops owned by a friend of my mother. She decided once the boys were out of the house she wanted to go to work to keep busy, so she hooked up with an entrepreneur friend who had recently opened a ski and tennis specialty shop. Between semesters I worked in the back room doing ski tune ups, or maintaining the rental equipment. I learned how to tune skis, to mount bindings, to string tennis rackets and how to use a cash register.
Over the years, as I became an accomplished skier, I would step into the sales department when a salesman went on vacation. I demonstrated some skill at selling and was eventually promoted.
Later, when I was passed over for a store manager position in one of the many new locations, and I sensed I was losing out to a series of preferred friends of the owner, I went over to the local competitor and became an assistant manager. The Ski-Surf Shop, in Manhattan Beach California, was a funky single store operation. The owner was a charismatic surfboard shaper turned ski business entrepreneur. He had an uncanny ability to sense market opportunities and consumer demands, and he constantly led the local market by introducing the latest and greatest innovations in equipment and clothing.
Ski boots were a constant source of irritation for me and I was certain I was not alone in that sentiment, so I became an expert ski boot fitter. At some point we were introduced to orthotics, which I immediately embraced as the solution for skiing foot cramps. The owner agreed to offer a 100% money back guarantee to anyone who purchased ski boots from us as long as they had custom fitted orthotics. No questions asked, if you were not 100% happy with the fit and performance, we would refund your purchase price or exchange your boots for another pair. Our boot sales skyrocketed! We outsold all of the competitors, which gave us access to better lines and better wholesale prices. It was a win-win! Customers would become raving fans which led them to spend all of their ski allowance money with us.
At about the same time I graduated from the Radio/TV Department at CSULB and started working full time in the ski industry, my mom followed me over to the Ski-Surf Shop. We became integral parts of the growth of the little shop. When I started there in 1972, the owner was doing about $500K a year in sales of ski equipment, tennis gear and surf accessories. When I left five years later to start my own business, the Ski-Surf Shop posted $5M in annual sales. Like any successful enterprise, it always looks easier than it is.
The ski business was fun because it was seasonal. Very intense for 5 or 6 months a year, then slower while the summer months passed. Though we sold surf supplies, the owner realized early on he could not devote the energy it took to shape surfboards and make a name for himself in the surf scene. Besides, he needed downtime because his business was booming and he also liked to sail.
As soon as he could afford a sailboat, I was left to man the store all summer long. It was boring!
One Spring day a friend of the owner pulled into the parking lot with a van pulling a ski boat. The van and the boat were painted and pinstriped to match. It was a hot setup! Next thing I know I am going water skiing 6 or 7 times during the summer months. A steady group of waterski enthusiasts formed and we were fortunate to have a private beach along an irrigation canal in the vineyards of Kingsburg, just a few miles south of Fresno, California.
It had a beautiful grass covered campground, with shade trees, and a restroom facility and four separate docks. We were upstream from the more popular Kings River Resort, and close to the Pine Flats Reservoir dam that provided the irrigation water for the whole valley.
That upper section of the "river" was narrow with a fast current. It could be dangerous, but it also gave us smooth water and less traffic. We could ski hard until late morning, then play golf at the nearby private country club, take a nap or play frisbee until late in the afternoon, then enjoy some great smooth 'bug runs' at dusk. We called those late rides 'bug runs' because the water would be smooth as glass causing us to smile so much, the evening bugs would get stuck in our teeth.
One day, as I was tending the store, a young, very well dressed man came in and began speaking to me about the water ski aspects of our business. He was representing some water ski products and wanted to know if Ski-Surf Shop would be interested in carrying them. I said if we tested them out and affirmed their worthiness, sure! More about that later…
Meantime, I was very familiar with the operational aspects of running the retail business, the personnel commitment required and the necessity of long term financial backing. My brother was an established commercial real estate broker in San Diego, and he and his wife had strong ties to the larger community. He had three kids and the whole family skied, but he noted that there were very few serious ski shops in the area, and as the population inevitably grew, the need for specialty equipment would only grow more widespread.
Over Thanksgiving dinner at our parents house, he asked me if I would be interested in opening my own ski business in the San Diego area? He was interested because he hated having to go to LA to get his equipment. I would have to move, of course…
I had just recently ended a long term relationship. I was heartbroken and in an emotional funk. It felt like a lifeboat had just pulled into my harbor.
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