"Morality, when vigorously alive, sees farther than intellect and provides unconsciously for intellectual difficulties."

                                                                                              J.A. Froude

Earlier today, I spoke with a man in Westford, Vermont.  "It's damn cold here," he shared.

Cold.  Yes, I remember that feeling.

But last week I was in Hawaii, this week I'm in Texas, and next week I'll be in California, which I'm sure will be glorious.

Several years ago, I attended a workshop in Montpelier, Vermont.  It was colder-than-cold.  (I don't fare too well in the cold.  Some people thrive, but my blood's so thick that I sputter and shake.  It's as if my fluids turn to sludge and the 'ol body just sorta seizes up.)  But wow, Montpelier was gorgeous, and it wasn't even Spring yet.  I'd love to go back some day.

I've spent my fair share of time in the cold around the world... scraping windshields, trudging through snowdrifts, fighting to open doors in the howling wind, wishing I had galoshes or waterproof socks, and sitting on miserable airplanes after midnight -- waiting for the de-icing machine to make its third pass.

But today, my observation is one about Weeds -- the sort that have been recently exposed across the blanket of our lawn as Spring hits our region.

Texas weeds are world-class.  Enormous, like the State they occupy.  And my, oh my, have we got some weeds in our yard.  As I gingerly wandered around our yard this past Sunday, I found weeds of all sorts and stripes. 

Broad, squatty weeds... the kind that hug the ground and hide too low to be whacked by the mower.

Circular, spindly weeds... the kind that run and shoot and trail off in countless directions like an octopus.

Bright, flowery weeds... the kind my daughter plucks and mistakes for flowers.

Tall, milky weeds... the kind that catch on your armpit as you wade through what might as well be a cornfield.

And dandelions... the kind of weed that reproduces so amply that rabbits and the octomom herself are shamed.

Meanwhile, in Vermont, it's cold.  And weeds will not be seen for weeks.  (This may be one instance where the grass really is greener somewhere else.  Or perhaps not.  The weeds certainly are.)

I think this contrast of Vermont v. Texas is a good reminder for us all.

Everything is seasonal.

Things grow, things die.  What came, went.  What is not, will be.

For many, it's still Winter.  For some, it's Spring.

And with Spring come Weeds.

As the tide turns with our economy (and it will, one day), the greener pastures we've been longing for all winter will be accompanied by weeds.

Some of us will greet the green with open arms like Puxtahawney Phil, eager to crawl out from the dark lair of winter.

But some will greet the green with derision, turning their noses up at imperfections and commenting snootily (as the critic Anton Ego in Ratatouille, played brilliantly by Peter O'Toole), "Oh.  Weeds."

I understand this.  This is human nature.  It is captured by turn in the notions of Selective Perception, Broken Windows Theory, Boiled Frog Phenomenon, The Pygmalion Effect, Target Fixation, and Chevreul's Pendulum.  Some people are simply inclined to see the smudge on the Rembrandt. 

No matter; it is what it is and they are who they are.

But alas, for you and me -- however frustrated we might be when Spring is accompanied by those buggery, parasitic Weeds -- let us revel in the fact that Winter has gone and Summer is but a couple months away. 

The world is full of people who only see the weeds in the meadow.  So be it.  Though they themselves might very well be weeds in our own organizations, everything and everyone has a purpose.  With the toil that is required to remove or tame whatever challenges lie in our path comes the appreciation of all we have and the joy its beauty brings.

In these days when our respective governments are taking actions to curtail, quarantine, and repair our ravaged economies, I cannot help but equate their work with plastic surgeons.  Plastic surgery seems to be one of those very delicate pursuits.  With just the right nip or tuck, ducklings might become swans.  But too many surgeries, or too radical... and we have a Michael Jackson problem of disfiguration.

There are no panaceas for the ills that have befallen us.  What is required is transformative, systemic, holistic change that will take years of exercise and diet to manifest fully into a healthier global economy.  This is perfectly representative of one situation in which morality must indeed see farther than intellect, because there is no chance that everything that will be tried will work right out of the chute. 

There will be foibles and mis-steps, errors and blunders.  Such is the case with governing, with public policy, and with complex issues that span countries, cultures, and currencies.

But as the gardeners demonstrate, with a little patience and pruning, together we can plant and nurture a healthy and lush field everyone can enjoy.

Some of these are so appropos, they simply scream to be shared. 

As a comedian might say after delivering his punchline, "I don't care who you are.  That's funny!"

(My sincerest apologies to lawyers and politicians.  Don't shoot the messenger.)

1. In my many years I have come to a conclusion that one useless man is a shame, two is a law firm, and three or more is a congress.  (John Adams) 
2. If you don't read the newspaper you are uninformed, if you do read the newspaper you are misinformed.  (Mark Twain) 
3. Suppose you were an idiot.  And suppose you were a member of Congress.  But then I repeat myself.  (Mark Twain)  
4. I contend that for a nation to try to tax itself into prosperity is like a man standing in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle.  (Winston Churchill) 
5. A government which robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul.  (George Bernard Shaw) 
6. Democracy must be something more than two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner.  (James Bovard) 
7. Foreign aid might be defined as a transfer of money from poor people in rich countries to rich people in poor countries.  (Douglas Casey) 
8. Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.  (P.J. O'Rourke) 
9. Government is the great fiction, through which everybody endeavors to live at the expense of everybody else.  (Frederic Bastiat) 
10. Government's view of the economy could be summed up in a few short phrases: If it moves, tax it.  If it keeps moving, regulate it.  And if it stops moving, subsidize it.  (Ronald Reagan) 
11. I don't make jokes.  I just watch the government and report the facts.  (Will Rogers) 
12. If you think health care is expensive now, wait until you see what it costs when it's free!  (P.J. O'Rourke) 
13. In general, the art of government consists of taking as much money as possible from one party of the citizens to give to the other.  (Voltaire) 
14. Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn't mean politics won't take an interest in you.  (Pericles) 
15. No man's life, liberty, or property is safe while the legislature is in session.  (Mark Twain) 
16. Talk is cheap... except when Congress does it.  (Anonymous) 
17. The government is like a baby's alimentary canal, with a happy appetite at one end and no responsibility at the other.  (Ronald Reagan) 
18. The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of the blessings.  The inherent blessing of socialism is the equal sharing of misery.  (Winston Churchill) 
19. The only difference between a tax man and a taxidermist is that the taxidermist leaves the skin.  (Mark Twain) 
20. The ultimate result of shielding men from the effects of folly is to fill the world with fools.  (Herbert Spencer) 
21. What this country needs are more unemployed politicians.  (Edward Langley) 
22. A government big enough to give you everything you want is strong enough to take everything you have.  (Thomas Jefferson)

As a boy, I just loved the book A Separate Peace.  Sad, yes, but beautifully written, simple, and powerful enough to make an impression that has lasted thirty years.

In recent months, two acquaintances and one good friend have metamorphosed into three quite different people.  Two at the hand of a stroke, and one at the hand of encephalitis.

Today, I find them even kinder, warmer, gentler, more patient – and altogether delightful and inspiring to be around.  One jokes that he’s had “a personality transplant,” and he’s right.  His new perspective has led to a heightened appreciation of so many things.

Expectedly, when tragedies initially befall us, we struggle to come to terms with our new realities.  I know this is true for me in my own tiny circumstances.  Since December 2007, I have lived with chronic pain that subsequent surgeries merely refashioned rather than removed.  For perhaps eight months, I prayed and expected to fully turn the corner and get my old life back.  Fifteen months later, I remain increasingly acceptant of my new reality. 

Whatever befalls us, it’s best to carry on in whatever ways possible and find purpose and joy in every viable nook and cranny.

We are not promised Happiness, but Hopefulness is there for the taking.

And while we are not destined on this 3^rd rock from the Sun to achieve any lasting peace, it is possible to find a separate peace, unlike the temporal sorts we generally seek.

I’ll close with two quotes that really move me.  I hope they move you, too. 

“Hi, Jules.  It’s Brian.  I’m on a plane and we’ve been hijacked, and it doesn’t look good.  Hopefully, I’ll talk to you again, but if not, please have fun and live your life the best you can.  Know that I love you and no matter what I’ll see you again someday.”

n  Brian Sweeney  (At 8:58 A.M. on September 11, 2001, Brian Sweeney, a businessman who had once flown F-14s for the Navy, was on his cell phone trying to reach his wife, Julie.  She wasn’t home, so he said goodbye into the answering machine.  Moments later, Sweeney’s plane [United flight 175 from Boston to Los Angeles], crashed into New York’s World Trade Center.)

“Nothing so infuriates me as the incapacity of seemingly intelligent people to get it through their heads that God doesn’t go around this world with His finger on the triggers, His fist on knives, His hands on steering wheels… never do we know enough to say that a death was the will of God.  My own consolation lies in knowing that when the waves closed over the sinking car, God’s heart was the first of all our hearts to break.”   

n  William Sloane Coffin, former chaplain at Yale, in a eulogy for his son Alex, age 24   

This is a first-hand account from a passenger (Gerry McNamara) aboard the infamous US Airways flight 1549.  Mr. McNamara is a Partner at Heidrick & Struggles in NYC. 

Several weeks ago, we learned a great deal about Captain "Sully" Sullenberger, the heroic pilot who handily guided the plane to safety. 

I thought you might enjoy another perspective, which follows below and comes in the form of an internal correspondence that Mr. McNamara shared with his colleagues.

Of particular interest are Mr. McNamara's lessons, shared at the end.

Thursday was a difficult day for all of us at the firm and I left the Park Avenue office early afternoon to catch a cab bound for LaGuardia Airport.  I was scheduled for a 5pm departure, but able to secure a seat on the earlier flight scheduled to leave at 3pm.  As many of us who fly frequently often do, I recall wondering if I'd just placed myself on a flight I shouldn't be on! 

Just prior to boarding I finished up a conference call with my associate, Jenn Sparks (New York), and our placement, the CIO of United Airlines.  When I told him that I was about to board a US Airways flight, we all had a little fun with it.  I remember walking on the plane and seeing a fellow with grey hair in the cockpit and thinking "that's a good thing... I like to see grey hair in the cockpit!"  I was seated in 8F, on the starboard side window and next to a young business man.

The New York to Charlotte flight is one I've taken what seems like hundreds of times over the years.  We take off north over the Bronx and as we climb, turn west over the Hudson River to New Jersey and tack south.  I love to fly, always have, and this flight plan gives a great view of several NY landmarks including Yankee Stadium and the George Washington Bridge.  I had started to point out items of interest to the gentleman next to me when we heard a terrible crash -- a sound no one ever wants to hear while flying -- and then the engines wound down to a screeching halt.

10 seconds later, there was a strong smell of jet fuel.  I knew we would be landing and thought the pilot would take us down no doubt to Newark Airport.  As we began to turn south I noticed the pilot lining up on the river -- still -- I thought -- en route for Newark.  Next thing we heard was "Brace for impact!" -- a phrase I had heard many years before as an active duty Marine Officer but never before on a commercial air flight. 

Everyone looked at each other in shock.  It all happened so fast we were astonished!  

We began to descend rapidly and it started to sink in.  This is the last flight.  I'm going to die today.  This is it.  I recited my favorite bible verse, the Lord's Prayer, and asked God to take care of my wife, children, family and friends. 

When I raised my head I noticed people texting their friends and family... getting off a last message.  My blackberry was turned off and in my trouser pocket... no time to get at it. 

Our descent continued and I prayed for courage to control my fear and help if able.  I quickly realized that one of two things was going to happen, neither of them good.  We could hit by the nose, flip and break up, leaving few if any survivors, bodies, cold water, fuel.  Or we could hit one of the wings and roll and flip with the same result.  I tightened my seat belt as tight as I could possibly get it so I would remain intact.  

As we came in for the landing, I looked out the windows and remember seeing the buildings in New Jersey, the cliffs in Weehawken, and then the piers.  The water was dark green and sure to be freezing cold.  The stewardesses were yelling in unison: "Brace! Brace! Brace!" It was a violent hit -- the water flew up over my window -- but we bobbed up and were all amazed that we remained intact.  

There was some panic -- people jumping over seats and running towards the doors, but we soon got everyone straightened out and calmed down.  

There were a lot of people that took leadership roles in little ways.  Those sitting at the doors over the wing did a fantastic job... they were opened in a New York second!  Everyone worked together -- teamed up and in groups to figure out how to help each other.  I exited on the starboard side of the plane, 3 or 4 rows behind my seat through a door over the wing and was, I believe, the 10th or 12th person out.  I took my seat cushion as a flotation device and once outside saw I was the only one who did... none of us remembered to take the yellow inflatable life vests from under the seat. 

We were standing in 6-8 inches of water and it was freezing.  

There were two women on the wing, one of whom slipped off into the water.  Another passenger and I pulled her back on and had her kneel down to keep from falling off again.  By that point we were totally soaked and absolutely frozen from the icy wind.  The ferries were the first to arrive, and although they're not made for rescue, they did an incredible job.  I know this river, having swum in it as a boy.  The Hudson is an estuary -- part salt and part fresh water -- and moves with the tide.  I could tell the tide was moving out because we were tacking slowly south towards Ellis Island, The Statue of Liberty, and The Battery.  The first ferry boat pulled its bow up to the tip of the wing, and the first mate lowered the Jacobs ladder down to us.  We got a couple people up the ladder to safety, but the current was strong pushing the stern of the boat into the inflatable slide and we were afraid it would puncture it... there must have been 25 passengers in it by now.  Only two or three were able to board the first ferry before it moved away.  Another ferry came up, and we were able to get the woman that had fallen into the water on the ladder, but she just couldn't move her legs and fell off.  Back onto the ladder she went, however, the ferry had to back away because of the swift current.  A helicopter arrived on station (nearly blowing us all off the wing) and followed the ferry with the woman on the ladder.  We lost view of the situation but I believe the helicopter lowered its basket to rescue her.  As more ferries arrived, we were able to get people up on the boats a few at a time.  The fellow in front of me fell off the ladder and into the water.  When we got him back on the ladder he could not move his legs to climb.  I couldn't help him from my position so I climbed up the ladder to the ferry deck where the first mate and I hoisted the Jacobs ladder with him on it... when he got close enough we grabbed his trouser belt and hauled him on deck.  

We were all safely off the wing.  We could not stop shaking.  Uncontrollable shaking.  

The only thing I had with me was my blackberry, which had gotten wet and was not working.  (It started working again a few hours later).  The ferry took us to the Weehawken Terminal in NJ where I borrowed a phone and called my wife to let her know I was okay.  The second call I made was to Jenn.  I knew she would be worried about me and could communicate to the rest of the firm that I was fine.  

At the terminal, first responders assessed everyone's condition and sent people to the hospital as needed.  

As we pulled out of Weehawken my history kicked in and I recall it was the site of the famous duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr in 1804.  Thankfully I left town in better condition than Mr. Hamilton who died of a mortal wound the next day!  

I stayed with my sister on Long Island that evening, then flew home the next day.  I am struck by what was truly a miracle.  Had this happened a few hours later, it would have been pitch dark and much harder to land.  Ferries would no longer have been running after rush hour and it would not have been the same uplifting story.  Surely there would have been fatalities, hypothermia, an absolute disaster! 

I witnessed the best of humanity that day.  I and everyone on that plane survived and have been given a second chance.  

It struck me that in our work we continuously seek excellence to solve our client's leadership problems.  We talk to clients all the time about the importance of experience and the ability to execute.  Experience showed up big-time on flight 1549 as our pilot was a dedicated, trained, experienced professional who executed flawlessly when he had to. 

I have received scores of emails from across the firm and I am so grateful for the outpouring of interest and concern.  We all fly a great deal or work with someone who does and so I wanted to share this story -- the story of a miracle.  I am thankful to be here to tell the tale. 

There is a great deal to be learned including: Why has this happened to me?  Why have I survived and what am I supposed to do with this gift?  For me, the answers to these questions and more will come over time, but already I find myself being more patient and forgiving, less critical and judgmental. 

For now I have 4 lessons I would like to share:  

1. Cherish your families as never before and go to great lengths to keep your promises.  

2. Be thankful and grateful for everything you have and don't worry about the things you don't have. 

3. Stay in shape.  You never know when you'll be called upon to save your own life, or help someone else save theirs. 

4. When you fly, wear practical clothing.  You never know when you'll end up in an emergency or on an icy wing in flip flops and pajamas and of absolutely no use to yourself or anyone else. 

And I'd like to add: Fly with gray-haired pilots!

Enjoy this uplifting story about a young police officer, Bryce.  Devastatingly injured in the line of duty, yet making remarkable progress.

Bryce Video

This past week, my wife and daughter and I traveled to Kauai and spent time with some wonderful people there.  As you can imagine, Kauai is struggling.  The hotel where we stayed reported 30% occupancy, compared with 100% occupancy for the prior seven years.  Yowza.

As we strolled a small shopping area one afternoon, we came across this sign outside an art gallery.  My Republican friends will surely love it, as will entrepreneurs, small businesses, capitalists, and for that matter -- most taxpayers.

My clients run the gamut.  Indeed, some are bailout-beneficiaries, others are government-centric groups, and some are small banks hanging on by their fingernails.  A great many are manufacturers and service providers in the private sector.  (One banking executive recently said to me, "In our new economy, the government seems to view an organization as 'too large to fail' or 'too small to save.'  In the end, we're all citizens committed to re-starting our economy.")

And as taxpayers, when we disregard the 'Wall Street vs. Main Street' rhetoric, I see much common ground.  In fact, more common than uncommon ground. 

Because in the end, we want justice, equality, opportunity, health, safety, happy children, and our shot at the pursuit -- or dare I say it -- the arrival of happiness.

Sometimes we wind-up feeling like Job, who lost ten children, his health, and everything he possessed.  But when he prayed for his friends, "the Lord made him prosperous again and gave him twice as much as he had before."  He died, old and full of years.

If you're not wishing the best for others or praying for them, maybe now is the time to do so.

All the best to you and yours; enjoy the weekend.

Knowing NOTHING about Jackson Pollock, his place in the pantheon of American artists, or the fact that one of his paintings sold for $140 Million U.S. Dollars, I subsequently watched Pollock, directed by and starring Ed Harris. 

When it was over, I had one distinct reaction: Disappointment.

Not in the movie, which was fine enough, but in the life and loss of Jackson Pollock himself.  The absolute 'unrealized potential.'

I know that may surprise, given his work and how highly art critics, collectors, and historians regard it, but setting all that aside -- the man's LIFE was tragic.  Manic depressive, alcoholic, philanderer... just lost and wayward.  Read for yourself, if interested. 

Thankfully, he found what appeared to be some periodic, transient (though ultimately fleeting) moments of peace in the faithfulness of his wife and fellow artist, Lee Krasner.

It's impossible to complete the documentary and movie without thinking of others who experienced the "Behind the Music" arc of Obscurity, Struggle, Moonshot Fame, Excess, Demons, Loss, Collapse, Dissolution.  (Beyond question, fans are fickle and fame is fleeting, but that's not my focus here today.  Nor is the undeniable amount of collateral damage that one individual creates through his or her own self-destruction.) 

The dubious 'honor roll' of those who died as a result of their own doing, who regrettably and tragically saw their Gifts and Talents pass through their fingers like fists of sand is a long list indeed.  Too long.

And then there are those who remain among us, but whose lives of unrealized potential linger on, zombie-like.  Their possessors are alive, but the talents themselves appear dormant or atrophied, like a limb exercised infrequently or none at all.

I think, too, of Dennis Rodman, Mike Tyson, and the countless other souls who, despite their once-greatness, find themselves 'cast' in what appears to be some recurring, off-Broadway play entitled, "Good Once, but Gone Now."

When I think of these lives, I'm not pacified with the contention that they were "awesome in their day or way."  Instead, I always wonder, "But what might they have been?  What could they have accomplished, given healthier upbringings, robust life-management skills, stronger coping mechanisms, broader perspectives, or even hope or meaning or garden variety love?" 

Would they still have hungered... had the fire in their bellies to achieve 'exemplarity' in the first place?

Perhaps.  And perhaps not. 

We'll likely never know, and the phenomenon will continue in perpetuity, a constant virus in the strain of life.

But there are those who accomplish many great things and carry on -- carry on for years and years, slogging through the quicksand and briars of life -- with grace and perspective in equal measure.

I know the legacy of Abraham Lincoln has received a renewed heaping of appreciation these recent months, but it gets me thinking.  What tragedies he sustained, what depression he and his wife fought, what sadness he experienced, including the greatest loss any parent can endure, the death of a child.  And in the White House, no less.  The apex of achievement, rendered potentially meaningless by such catastrophe.

But he rose.  Again, and again, and again, Mr. Lincoln rose. 

Among so many other admirable qualities, it's his perseverance that marks me the most.

I'm reminded of a childhood football coach who once admonished, "Leath, I don't care how many times they take you to your knees.  I care how many times you rise to your feet."

Let's commit to encouraging one another, to realizing our potential -- whatever we understand it to be -- and in the doing so, to achieving in reality what we possess in potentiality.

Today's earlier blog ("Enjoying the Journey") got me thinking about that 'ol Robert Fulghum poem, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

For those of you who enjoyed it then, or have never crossed it, here it is.

---------------------------------- 

All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten.  Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at school.

These are the things I learned:

• Share everything.
• Play fair.
• Don't hit people.
• Put things back where you found them.
• Clean up your own mess.
• Don't take things that aren't yours.
• Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
• Wash your hands before you eat.
• Flush.
• Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
• Live a balanced life -- learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
• Take a nap every afternoon.
• When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
• Be aware of wonder.  Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
• Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup -- they all die.  So do we.
• And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned -- the biggest word of all -- LOOK.

Everything you need to know is in there somewhere.  The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation.  Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.

Take any one of those items and extrapolate it into sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your family life or your work or government or your world and it holds true and clear and firm.  Think what a better world it would be if we all -- the whole world -- had cookies and milk at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap.  Or if all governments had as a basic policy to always put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess.

And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out in the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together. 

© Robert Fulghum, 1990.  All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten, Villard Books: New York, 1990, page 6-7.

http://www.robertfulghum.com   

Please bear with me today; I'm blown like a bubble with competing thoughts, so I'll trickle a stream of consciousness and do my best to tie things together near the end.

These past three weeks have been a whirlpool; I'm hopeful there's a point of encouragement somewhere in the swirl. 

1. Random Thought Bubble #1.  This past week, I was the last to board a plane and as I proceeded toward the rear of the aircraft, I scanned all the overhead bins before me, noticing they were closed.  The flight was oversold, and I was simply thrilled to have caught it.  As I passed the only open bin (about halfway to my seat) I stuffed my bulky overcoat inside, knowing I'd barely have room enough at my feet for my bag. 

The flight was uneventful, but within the final few minutes, as I gathered all my things and shoved them in my bag, I found a stranger's notebook in the seatpocket in front of me.  A prior occupant's.  I scanned it quickly, looking for a name, card, phone number, anything.  Finding nothing identifiable, I wrote "28A" on the cover and prepared to hand it to a flight attendant, should the occupant realize his forgetfulness and seek it later. 

I was the last person off the plane.  As I proceeded to the bin where I had stuffed my coat, I discovered it was gone.  In its place was a different coat!  I looked around, saw no other coats, grabbed this one, bolted up the jetway and looked everywhere for someone wearing my coat.  No one was to be found.  I returned to the plane, found a flight attendant, and in a very confusing way, handed over the notebook and the coat.  "Here.  Neither of these is mine; they are from different people.  And by the way, someone has my coat."

It was mild madness.  She was perplexed, unsympathetic, and I spent the next thirty minutes explaining the 'loss of my coat' to an equally disinterested redcoat and baggage claim agent.  (Apparently, the airline has no 'claim process,' and retrieving the coat is not as easy as emailing the passengers and asking, "Anyone take a coat or missing a coat?")  Needless to say, it is gone forever, and I'm confident that both the notebook and remaining coat are also lost to eternal winds by now. 

2. Random Thought Bubble #2.  A few nights ago, about twenty of us had dinner at the rollicking Hofbrau House on the outskirts of Cincinnati.  One of the men at dinner made an interesting comment -- one I've heard before in similar ways.  "After about ten years [with my former employer], I could read the writing on the wall.  It occurred to me that I couldn't work there another twenty years, and that no leaders had taken a particular interest in my career.  I ejected." 

Today, he seems much happier.  He is with a great group of people, doing meaningful work, and I'm confident he'll thrive.

3. Random Thought Bubble #3.  Several quotes have crossed my radar these past few weeks.  I've heard some of them before, but it always intrigues me when I hear several in a row -- from disparate sources -- that seem somehow related or similar.  In these trying times, I hope they resonate or encourage you somehow: 

"For those who believe, no proof is necessary.  For those who don't believe, no proof is possible."  Stewart Chase

"In youth, we learn.  In age, we understand."  Marie Ebner von Eschenbach

"I never teach my pupils.  I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn."  Albert Einstein

"You can measure a person's greatness by how much it takes to discourage him."  Robert Savage

"He who argues for his limitations gets to keep them."  Richard Bach

4. Random Thought Bubble #4.  In the last five days, I have heard from several dear friends who were either passed over for a promotion or let go.  Their frustration, disappointment, and anger are palpable.  Concurrently, I am also aware of others, both friends and acquaintances, whose organizations are thriving and raging successfully. 

The contrast is so amazingly stark.  It's as if there are two economies running in tandem.  On the one hand, there is misery, challenge, worry, fear, paranoia, and insecurity.  But on the hand right beside it is elation, opportunity, hope, excitement, and security.  Bizarre.  At the very point in time when hundreds and hundreds of thousands of people are losing jobs each month, there are pockets of people whose businesses are experiencing their greatest growth in a decade. 

Fascinatingly, it is so representative of our world.  Just as a billion people awake each day to running water, heated homes, adequate nutrition, and healthy living conditions, nearly five billion people awake each morning without many or any of these....

5. Random Thought Bubble #5.  On Sunday, when discussing 'the coat incident,' I told my wife and daughter that I wanted a new sweater and sportcoat for the Spring.  (I can count on two fingers the new clothes I have purchased for myself in the last twenty months: in June 2008, I bought a $19.00 shirt for my twenty-year high school reunion.  In October 2007, I bought the coat that someone mistakenly snagged!  Needless to say, my closet is a well-preserved time capsule.  I can [and do] still wear clothes I wore in high school, and I recently wore my 1993 wedding tuxedo to the local Father-Daughter dance on February 7th.  Because I wear so few articles and repeatedly, I have several other things in my closet that last for 'decades.')

As we spoke of these two items to purchase, little Lauren grabbed a pink spiral notebook and wrote the words, "Daddy."  "Coral."  "Salmon."  And so, with the mommy-recommended-colors in hand, we set out for a daddy-daughter-date-day to fish.

Eight stores later, having caught only ice cream, we returned home empty-handed. 

I think I'll just wear what I already have in the closet.

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But what a fun day we had, Lauren's tiny, sweaty hand gripping mine as we trudged through parking lots, malls, and along sidewalks of every hue.     

We had a purpose, she and I.  Despite our legs nearly giving out, we bounced along for hours.

And although our 'fishing expedition' hadn't quite worked out, we still enjoyed the journey, laughed, talked a great deal, and rewarded ourselves with ice cream. 

I think the day served as a great reminder for me.

Sometimes in our distractedness, we lose things -- or they are taken from us.  We needn't perceive this as maliciousness. 

Sometimes in our career, we realize we've leaned our ladder against the wrong organization.  We need only move it. 

Sometimes, when we get really still or quiet, we see or hear things that were right there all along.  We need only look and listen. 

Sometimes, when we feel really small or frail or as if we've failed, it's important to keep things in perspective and realize how blessed we truly are.  We need only appreciate. 

And sometimes, when we set out to sea for whatever expeditions lie before us -- whether fishing for coral, salmon, or joy -- we should keep our hands and hearts open and give thanks for the journey itself and our companions along the way.