It's about the athletes...

Focusing on the athletes  and their personal stories has been a good distraction from the negative problems at the Rio Olympics. According to the morning briefings, my prediction about security inside the venues being under control has proven to be true, while the city outside is rife with crime, violence and logistical problems.

If you are following the coverage, there are two interesting things to note on your TV screen. First, except for the star gold medal finals, you only see the stands about one-third full. As in other Olympics, this is a result of the blocks of tickets granted to sponsors and partners that, for a variety of reasons, go unused. The other thing is the absence of people on the street and the beach.  Security makes the difference here with over 30,000 of the 65,000 contract guards at work, just outside the venues. There are times when there are more security personnel than spectators or tourists.

Because of the tight protection around the athletes, this has been a great competition for them. Logistics have been the only problems here. Accommodations have been unfinished. Running water has been missing in certain instances. Toilets don't flush and locks don't work on doors. Transportation to the venues has been difficult at times and there was at least one report of a bus being shot at.

Rio was simply not ready for this; Financially, politically, logistically and safety-wise, these Games have been a very difficult undertaking. However, bringing home the Gold made the spectacle better for us, the viewing public. NBC's positive coverage made it more exciting. Still there was a pall over the Games. Holding your breath for something bad to happen.

I'm happy to say, with only the closing ceremonies to go, we seem to have survived any major problems that were visible.  The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat happened on the field...and there were moments of each.

Doing my job from a distance was the right decision. I thought long and hard about it but my job is not being a spectator. It's wading into the deep water and finding the source of the real problems behnd the scenes. There will be another Olympic Games and whether I'm there or not, my experience and expertise can still be useful. I'll send you another note after our final wrap-up briefing next week. Let's hope it's a good one.

Rio will not be a safe place to be for the Olympics

The date was decided years ago. It is just a coincidence that the Olympics are being held in Rio this fall. It's spring in the southern hemisphere and the weather can be quite warm and beautiful. Opening Ceremonies begin next week and the games will take up most of August.

I have written about my concerns for the safety of the spectators and athletes. Unfortunately, those concerns seem to be proving true. I've been fortunate to get to know some members of the World Champion National Women's Soccer Team and many of them are worried about possible health problems from Zika to giardia in the water supply. We had long discussions and there are options but no fool-proof solutions.

Again, I've been asked to lend my expertise to the potential crisis problems along with sponsorship and international news media relations. My previous trips to Rio are what make me hesitate to be on the scene. Jane certainly doesn't want any part of it from previous experience. I, on the other hand, much prefer to be there in person. That's the dilemma and I've put it off until the last minute..


Even with an estimated  80,000 security personnel on hand, it is still going to be difficult to control the situation. I think the venues will be the safest place to be (discounting the pickpockets who you  can't avoid) because that is where security will have to be concentrated. It's the city surrounding the venues that  worries me most. Even moving from a hotel to a venue opens the door for problems.

To add to all the known difficulties,the world was a different place when Rio won the bid. Terrorism is rampant now and very unpredictable. Statistics show that almost 250 adults and children have been killed in terror attacks in the past two weeks. No country is immune. Attacks in 8 cities in 6 countries make that quite clear.

Things are going to be tough in Rio. Infrastructure is not ready. Health concerns will not go away. Crime will increase. Security is not fully prepared. Nothing would make me happier than to be wrong about this. If everything goes well, I'll take the heat for crying "Wolf".

That said, I think we'll be faced with a crisis a day...some easy to handle but others of major consequence. I've been dealing with crises since I started by professional career. And I can attest to the fact that a crisis a day takes it out of you. I like going home at night, even to take the 2am calls. I like decompressing with Jane and sleeping in my own bed.

Working remotely gives me live streaming access to every venue and Skype makes our daily briefings tolerable. I would still  prefer to be in the fire but I will not be going to Rio. I want to be fresh to face what will be coming at us. I feel a special connection  to the US Women's Soccer Team and I want them all to be safe, The athletes and competition are definitely where my commitment is. The politics, partnerships and business relationships do not concern me (although getting caught up in them sometimes is impossible to avoid.)

If you go to  Rio, be careful and take care. Unless you've got an athlete in the Games, that big screen is going to be the best and safest way to see the Rio Olympics. I'll give you the inside information that I can share as things progress and hope for the best. Here's to the athletes.

Enough

Some of my best friends are Millennials. But haven't we heard enough about their generation? Enough about what they eat and drive? Enough about who they like to sit next to at the office; how often they change jobs and how independent they are?.

Granted they're moving into the workforce in large numbers but this is far from the first generational transition we've witnessed. If the boomers and the Xers had the social media to tout their influence on the marketplace, the story would have been much the same.

Technology is the biggest change we're facing and all of us who are working are having to deal with it. And, as with any change, you either embrace it or watch it pass you by.  It's your choice. The Millennials are not making it happen. They have just grown up with it and are living with it every day. Researchers are already predicting the next evolution of Facebook and Twitter, which will be new to all of us in the same way.

Like every generation, Millennials have their music, their recreation, their jokes, their television shows and superstars. But none of that is new. Only the names are different than the past. The intervention of media is the cause of much of this chatter. They are feeding us on a strict Millennial diet, day in and day out. Consultants are said to be charging $20,000 a day to school major companies about employing Millennials. I'd like some of that action.

Don't get me wrong. These are smart, talented young people, who have had a very tough row to hoe through school and out into the working world. But to some degree every generation has had to face these challenges. And don't forget that Gen Z, born after the turn of the century, is already into high school and will soon be meeting the Millennials on their own turf.

I work with Millennials every day and many of them are students in the college classes I teach. It's not the generation that is unique. It's the individuals. That's where you see the bright spots. Take away the tablets and the smartphones and we're all much the same. This is the first digital generation and we can learn from them but we're teaching each other...and that's good. We all have our strengths.

Gen Z will be known as the Reality TV generation. The Kardashians showed up just about the time these kids were starting primary school. When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, the answer was "famous". There's a sad quirk for you.

Millennials have run their course.  They're settling into their 30's. The playing field is leveling out. Let's not be more concerned about who they are than we are about who they are going to be. They are co-workers, parents and friends. Let's get comfortable with our next door neighbors and not get hung up about why  they like a good craft brew rather than a properly aged wine or that they are close friends with Rachel and Chandler.

When is the last time someone introduced themselves to you by saying, "Hi, I'm Jim and I'm a Millennial."? Enough with these labels.  Let's just move on. There are much more important issues facing us.

Blame it on Rio...

It's that time. On Friday, August 5, we begin the summer games of the 31st Olympiad. Rio de Janeiro will be the host and there's going to be trouble. I've worked on large scale events in Rio and many of its problems are insurmountable.

This will mark my 14th Olympiad, Summer and Winter, and I've seen the games from every angle, inside and out, top to bottom.  I've worked with the local organizing committees, the International Olympic Committee, local governments, sponsors and the athletes themselves.

No event has a longer history than the Olympics. They began more than seven centuries BC. The modern games got their start in 1896. Olympiad is the Greek word for the four year period between games. That's what makes this the 31st Olympiad.

Now that the brief history lesson is over, why is there going to be trouble in Rio? The main reason is that there is always trouble in Rio. Crime and violence pervade the city. The beaches and Carnival drown out the realities of what goes on in the city day in and day out.

One of our round-the-world sailing events had a stopover in Rio and we barely escaped with our lives. Boats were burned. Goods were stolen. Men were attacked and women were physically abused. The only response we could get from local law enforcement was that they were sorry and they would watch our compound more closely.

These problems were not politically motivated or terrorism related. They were purely uncontrolled lawbreaking delinquency. Jane has vowed she will never return.  She was frightened just to be on the streets. All of us stayed very close to "home".

Today, when you add in the political unrest going on with the ouster of the president coupled with the worldwide fear of terrorist activity and the Zika virus, it is very hard to believe that we will make it through the games without incident.

Jane and I spent time at the Beijing Olympics with the delegation from Rio who were there for planning meetings.  We shared with them our concerns about their city hosting the games.and their response was that the crime problems were not going to go away. Their only hope was that the athletes and the competition could be isolated with extreme security measures being taken wherever the games touched the city.

It's sad to me to think that the athletes from around the world will be penned up and led by security officials everywhere they go. Security for spectators will be no less scrutinized. The Sochi Olympics were controlled in a similar fashion but there was a war going on. Even the ever-present social unrest in China was less of a concern than what's about to happen in Brasil.

The Olympics began as a people's event among friendly countries. But increasingly, it's politics, warring factions and money that dictate the outcome of the games, instead of the competition on the field. My role will again be to help local organizers with sponsorship, international media relations and crisis communications.

Rio is a beautiful city and the vast majority of its citizens are welcoming to visitors. However, television may well be our first and safest avenue for watching the events. I hope for the best at the 31st Olympiad. But I am prepared for the worst.  Here's hoping.

For the people of Belgium

Belgium is a quiet place. The word tranquility fits. On our first trip to Europe, I took Jane to Flanders where the famous World War I cemetery was located. It was a beautiful place to spend eternity and we've gone back to that stunning area many times.

Today's horrific terrorist attack  struck deep in the hearts of Belgians and their global partners. Most Belgians speak some English and I heard one Brussels resident fight the tears back when asked if he was afraid. "I'm not afraid of death. I could get hit by a car," he said. "But I am afraid of being killed by a terrorist for no other reason than to frighten those around me."

Even President Obama has said several times now, there is little we can do to stop someone who is willing to give up their own life for a radical cause. Today's attack was planned. It appears to have been practiced. The locations of the terrorists were selected specifically for maximum impact. A small consolation is that for some reason they only fired a few rounds from their automatic rifles before detonating their suicide belts and suitcase bombs full of nails and bolts. Even more people would have died or been shot if the guns had continued firing.

My military father always told me that knowing your enemy was a major step in ending a conflict. Radical Extremist, however, by definition, does not lend itself to reasonable and rational thought or dialogue. Belgium is quiet for a different reason today. It's sorrow that is in their hearts and ours. A country that most of us only know for its delicious chocolate has sadly become a target of villainous violence. We Americans don't know it as well as we do Paris. It is unlikely we will see the outpouring of goodwill for Belgium that we saw after the Paris attacks. Not out of lack of concern but out of lack of education.I truly hope that will not be the case.

Jane and I were there not long ago and our hearts go out to all its citizens. They were kind, welcoming and engaging people and we feel their loss.  For the home of Michael Angelo's only piece of art outside Italy, the Madonna and Child, that found a place there, our wish is that peace and tranquility will return quickly.

Our world has changed. We are only one step away from being screened in EVERY public place.If it comes that, we should do it, but do not let the terrorists steal our lives from us.. If you see something, say something is pretty good motto. Be aware. But by all means, enjoy a piece of Belgian chocolate and, like Jane I did, take your time eating that waffle in the street cafe and looking at the scenery. As the good Mr. Gump's mama always said, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get." So embrace life and those you love. We will win this war.

Riverdance Discovered

This is a St. Patrick's Day story about bringing the heritage of the homeland for those of us of Irish descent to the rest of the world (I haven't checked my DNA with Ancestry.com, but I knew both my great grandfathers and I just know.) It was the 90's and we were all flying high. I have to say it. They were the Clinton years. Ireland still had the "troubles" but things were getting better.  And then just before St. Patrick's Day, an exciting import hit the shores of the US. Riverdance came to Radio City Music Hall and took the country by storm.

Riverdance began as a 7-minute performance at a music festival in Dublin that turned into a full length show touring the world to great acclaim. The lead dancers in the original short number were Jean Butler, also the the choreographer, and her friend and long time dance partner Colin Dunne.

By the time the show had expanded to two hours, Michael Flatley was named lead dancer, partnering with Jean Butler.  The water gets murky here as Flatley was only with the show for a little less than a year.  He left over creative differences to dance with his own company and Dunne rejoined the group for its triumphant tour to Radio City Music Hall with Butler still choreographing and taking the female lead.

That brings us to the month of March and St. Pattrick's Day in New York City. As the song goes "It was 20 years ago today..." when Riverdance hit the Big Apple and I was making regular trips there to the DDB headquarters for board meetings. Most of my business meetings were too quick to take Jane so I was left with a lot of open evenings.

On this particular cold March night, I was looking for a good movie as I strolled by Radio City. All of a sudden, a man raced out the side door of the theater to jump into a limo. "I've got to catch a plane. Want to see the show?" he asks me. "Sure," I said, not even knowing what I was about to see.

The theater was packed and when I looked at the ticket the man had given me, it was 5th row center and the performance was...Riverdance, There's the luck of the Irish for you...or, in this case,, for me.

The show was astounding. The music alone was worth the trip. The audience was on their feet for almost the entire show. It's become a standard and a part of Irish folklore. Everyone has tried their hand, or foot, at Step Dancing and the music has sold millions of copies the world over.

Jane will tell you that I can stand at a stage door to a fault and that evening, with nothing else to do, I stood and waited...and waited.

When Jean Butler finally came out, we engaged pretty quickly. I'm fascinated with choreographers Her mother is from County Mayo and Jean, as it t;urns out, is quite a talker.   I told her I was from Seattle and that this show would be such a hit there. She said they had just laid out a tour that would come here within the year. She loves Seattle and had traveled here many times. I told her my Irish had to offer any assistance that would help on their visit. She was grateful for the offer. We sat and  talked for quite a while about theater. I told her I was on the board of the 5th Avenue and she wanted details...lots of details. It was getting late. She gave me her email and cell number and vowed to keep in touch. Which she did and still does. What a delightful young woman. She now isn't doing much dancing but designing interesting jewelry that's sold across Ireland and the US..


Jean sent me an exploding shamrock email for St. Patrick's Day that year. It turned into a pot of gold. We emailed more and, when the tour came here, Jane and I not only got the royal backstage treatment but we sat in the orchestra...I mean literally IN the orchestra. We've seen the show many times now. Most exciting was at its UK home theater in Hammersmith. It's  always a delight..

I know that on St. Patrick's Day everyone says they are Irish but every once in awhile it pays to really BE Irish. So wherever you're from, enjoy your Guiness and lamb stew with some soda bread. Try a little Step Dancing. It's a great workout and fun too. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Losing a good friend is never easy...

There is a more esteemed position that supersedes friend and mentor.  If it was a relative, you'd probably call it father, but when it's not, it is a person who makes your life whole, gives you support and opens doors that you didn't even know were there. John Iverson was such a person and his sudden passing leaves a huge void in the hearts of all who knew him well.

John was a true Seattle native, born here of immigrant parents, graduated from Roosevelt High School and the University of Washington, joined a prestigious local law firm and embedded himself into the community, eventually becoming president of Downtown Rotary, the world's largest Rotary Club...or so he told me, every time he would ask me to join.

When I first touched ground in Seattle in the 1960's, I felt like a pioneer.  The city was still relishing the surge of power it experienced from the World's Fair. It was discovering itself all over.again. Except for living in DC and meeting ;Jane there while I was in college, I had never lived anywhere longer than a year throughout my father's career as an army officer. Our college friends thought I'd lost my mind picking up stakes and moving to the edge of the earth and Jane wasn't too sure about me either.

By the 70's,our beachhead was at K2 Skis and JanSport backpacks. They were home plate for us. Gordon Bowker, who with his talented partner Terry Heckler, was behind the award-winning Rainier Beer, K2 and JanSport ads, introduced me to the intricacies of Seattle marketing, He  had not yet been to Italy to discover the benefits of whole bean coffee which later inspired him to open a coffee shop called Starbucks; Bill Gates was just getting ready for high school and Eddie Vedder was excited about starting kindergarten. My contacts were few and far between...until Indiana/DC friend Bill Ruckelshaus pointed us to Jean Ehrlichman, on the way back from DC herself. Jean was involved with the opera which was starting a new ballet company and the president of the ballet board was a young lawyer named John Iverson.

John knocked down the walls of provincialism for us. There was no pretense with John. Keep it straight and true and he was behind whatever we did.  Thanks to John, Jane worked her way onto the Pacific Northwest Ballet board as a trusted advisor. He opened the door to Seattle Center and the new Kingdome for me and soon after I was working with the front offices of the Mariners, Sonics and Seahawks. John eventually honored us with the moniker "semi-local" of which we continue to be very proud.

He was a friend to all..  As odd as it seemed (until you heard him sing) he was a music major in his undergrad days. In fact, his beautiful tenor voice had him singing all over town professionally and paying his way through law school. One of my favorite memories is from a weekend barbeque on Whidbey Island when I told John that my mother named me Daniel because she loved the song Danny Boy. His acapella version outside in the fresh salt air with the sun going down still brings a tear to my eye.

Whether it was taking a picnic lunch and hiking to Ebey's Landing, eating waffles at the county fair, making us orphans with no family nearby feel at home on Thanksgiving, putting up with my tippy-toe jokes during the ballet (he always had the seat right in front of me) or shaking up one of the best Manhattans that Jane has ever had, John loved life...all of it.

I'm not alone in these thoughts and memories. John had more friends than most of us can find...even on facebook. And I mean real friends. There is a difference, you know. His family was his pride and joy though. His amazing wife Marli and sons Jans and Dane feel the loss more than any of us can imagine. Our hearts go out to them.

For a couple of young pioneers from the east coast like Jane and me, meeting up with John Iverson was like seeing Chief Sealth beckoning us to the shore. Everyone should be so lucky when they make a life-changing move. After a decades-long relationship,friend and mentor he was but that's not enough. John Iverson was all that is good about the Pacific Northwest. A prince of a man. Rest in peace, John. You'll always be in our hearts.

A life together

Any married couple should have the kind of relationship that Ronald and Nancy Reagan had.  Pure love, devotion, trust and complete commitment. You could see it in their faces. They were inseparable, even when they were apart. He called her morning, noon and night...no matter where he was in the world, they talked to one another. They sought approval and found solace in every situation they encountered. Her passing is a landmark for the 21st Century.

I did not vote for Ronald Reagan in his first term but in his second, the choice between him and Walter Mondale was not a hard one. Nancy campaigned hard in both his bids and I'm sure played a key role in his wins.

Twice I met him. Once when he was president and I was fortunate to be acting as the western West Wing of the White House on his way to China, thanks to long time friend and mentor William Ruckelshaus. But the first time I was introduced was when he was governor of California. That encounter was special. It was on the field of the Rose Bowl on New Year's Day.

My Alma Mater Indiana University has only been to the Rose Bowl one time in its history and I was working for the athletic department at the time.while in graduate school. I was asked to be an on-the-field spotter for the NBC Sports crew covering the event.

Before the game while we were setting up, Governor Reagan walked around the stadium and came by the TV crew to say hello. I don';t know if he colored his hair (which was a topic of conversation in those days) but I was struck by the fact that it looked orange not red then...must have been the sun.

When I was introduced to him,.his response to meeting me was something I cannot forget. "Dan (It was said he was good with names), I would like for you to meet my wife Nancy. She's not much of a football fan but she's learning" Turning the conversation over to her made us all more comfortable and we had a great talk. Nancy asked me where home was and I said Washington, DC.  Her comeback was "Maybe we'll see you there someday." I still think she already had her eyes on the prize. What a gracious person she was.

Spending your life with another person is truly an adventure.  It's listening and learning and giving and getting. When you grow up together there is no stronger bond. I like to think that Jane and I have found that and I wish it for all of us.

Ron and Nancy had that connection. Her passing will bring them back together someplace somewhere. Their love will go on. RIP.

Six to Go

Going to the movies still makes me think of fried longhorn cheese and boiled ham sandwiches. My love affair with motion pictures began when I started primary school. All my summer vacations were spent on my grandparents farm, no matter where my career military father was stationed.

Saturday was shopping day for my grandmother and she needed at least 5 hours in town to get all the errands done. One of her most important stops was a trip to the butcher shop where she bought the makings for the those ham and cheese sandwiches. On weekdays at noon, she fried them with butter in a cast iron skillet for everyone taking a break from their chores. Ice cold, fresh milk from that morning capped off a hard-to-beat midday treat..

On the trip to town, what safer place in those days was there to park me for several hours than the Bijou Theater watching movies while she was shopping. I loved it. With a box of jujubes, a barrel of popcorn and good front seat in the balcony, I was set for the day. Although there were plenty of double features, I could watch the same movie two or three times, finding my favorite character and memorizing the dialogue. It just seemed natural.

I was hooked in no time. I really got interested by middle school and that's when I began to pay attention to the Academy Awards, By high school, I had a system and some rules. First of all, I had to see all the Best Film nominees, then Best and Supporting Actor and then Best Director.  I've added Best Song, Best Foreign Film and, now, just for my good friend Laszlo, I make sure I've seen all the Best Cinematography nominees.

With the Academy expanding the categories, especially Best Picture, it makes for quite a few movies to see. Another of my latter day rules is that I have to see the movies in a theater on a big screen.  DVDs are for "touch-up" watching where I'm focusing on a particular scene, character or bit of dialogue that I particularly like  When a film is good, there is no limit to the number of times I can watch it. I've already seen this year's "The Revenant" four times just to watch the amazingly scary grizzly bear scene.

In recent years, the proof of the pudding comes at my friend Laszlo's Academy Award party. You have to dress like a character from one of the nominated films and bring a covered dish. We vote on every category and we've had some 100% winners and several ties. Laszlo is an amazing film-maker, Academy-nominated and multiple Emmy-winning, he's opened so much about the film world to me. He and his now-departed Hungarian compatriots, who escaped together during the revolution there, all became giants in the Hollywood film industry. I've been fortunate to sit beside him in the executive producer and writer's chair on 8 documentary projects over the past three decades. I feel like I've earned a degree in film-making and it's made me love film even more.

Since I started my journey through film land, I've roughly calculated watching more than 3,000 films (not counting multiple-viewings). Film transports me to other worlds. Travelling, as I always have in my job, allows me to fill those empty evenings with a trip to someplace I've never been.  I have six films left to complete this year's list before the Red Carpet is rolled out on Sunday afternoon. With Jane strolling the beaches of Carmel-by-the-Sea with her girlfriends, I'll be able to grab my #1 big popcorn and drink and do some back-to-back watching this weekend to reach my goal.  I can almost smell the ham and cheese sandwich sizzling in the skillet already.

Too close for comfort...

It's one of those stories that never goes away.  Every February, there comes a mention of the kidnapping of Patty Hearst. It was a moment in time near the end of the Vietnam War that summed up the frustration and anger that had built up during that futile conflict. Even my career military father, then working for the government as a civilian, was at his wits end trying to figure a way out to no avail.

Three of the Hearst kidnappers were in school with us at Indiana University. Bill and Emily Harris and Angela Atwood found each other in California being drawn into the movement known as the Symbionese Liberation Army. Bill was a close friend of mine from high school who I helped coax into attending IU. Angela Atwood, or  Angel as we knew her, was a sorority sister of my wife Jane and sang in a campus band that I sometimes played with and managed for local gigs.

Bill and Emily and Angel were more like the rest of us at the time than you could imagine. We were all away from home, each beginning to find our way into the next part of our lives. Bill dropped out of school, joined the Marines and went to Vietnam. When he returned, he had indeed moved on but, unfortunately, the war sent him into a very dark place.

In the fall before the kidnapping, I spent some time with Bill at a campus outing and I could see the effects of his Vietnam tour beginning to bubble to the surface. He was very outspoken about the government and the affable personality that I had known from years earlier had been consumed by distress and negative emotions.

When the names of those associated with the kidnapping, who died in a house fire and shootout with the police, were released,  I had to listen twice to believe that Angel was one of those who was killed. And then in almost the same breath came the names of Bill and Emily Harris, who had escaped the fire with Patty. I simply could not believe what I was hearing. It just couldn't be THE Bill Harris...MY Bill Harris.  But it was.

The story goes on for decades. Initially, there were FBI phone taps, mail being opened and inspected, interviews with friends and family and regular check-ins with the agents in charge.Even midnight face-to-face encounters seeking refuge with some of us who were close to him. Then, two years later, Bill and Emily and Patty were captured.. There were trials and hearings and jail sentences all around. Pieces and parts of the story continue to resurface on a regular basis, even into the new millennium.

I wrote to Bill in prison during his first incarceration. His mental state at that time was still somewhere in the outland and clearly hard to track. Today, he is circulating amongst our old cohort from time to time, living now in Hawaii and seemingly doing fine.

The feelings and emotions that were in the heads of young people then were treading a very fine line. It was clearly too close for comfort. Our country is walking a line like that again today. And it's the young people who are a force to be reckoned with.  I hope we can get our priorities in focus and find our way down the right road. We are setting the stage for years to come..

Number 145

Somewhere up around Channel 300-something on basic cable, Neil Patrick Harris is still child-prodigy Dougie Howser, MD. At the end of each show, Dougie would sit down at his computer and, in two or three sentences, sum up the moral of the story. I was always impressed by that. It was an online journal...a log, if you will. On the worldwide web, it became a web log and then was eventually shortened to simply a blog.

In this, the 145th edition of whatever you want to call these missives that I've been posting for almost eight years, I'm still searching for the moral of the story. Today's blogs are mostly reiterations of basic business principles or lists of five or ten things that the author has learned or discovered from his or her vast corporate or start-up background. Some time ago, I made the decision not to jump into this myriad of wisdom-filled ramblings. I enjoy much more taking a look at the world around us and relating pieces of my life that at least contribute to the search for a moral to the story.  It's not business.  It's personal.

These and all my social postings do not go to the "public at large". I doubt the world cares much about little ol' me. "Friends" has become a very loose term online for many today but I do try to keep track of who receives my writings. And I'm always quick to say that the delete key is only an inch away, should you have no interest in the subject...or me.

As 2015 comes to a close, travel has been on my mind.  Year-end is a big travel season and, throughout my life, it has been consumed by travel. To a great degree, travel has been a means to an end. Culture, sport and art have all influenced my personality and the exposure that travel offers to the differences in all of us brings a richness to life that is hard to find any other way.

That said, travel is not what it used to be but it's still there. We may have to take more care in how and where we travel.  But that experience, whether it's for business or pleasure, close to home or thousands of miles away, makes us more aware of those around us who look at the world differently than we do. And, with a little effort, we may learn to, at least, understand why they think the way they do.

Travel has found friends for me in places I had never been before.  Some of those people don't speak the same language. Some don't have the same ideals. Some have a spiritual way to live life that is most enviable. Some have shown me that catching a fish symbolizes all the challenges we face.

Travel has allowed me to witness history when Nelson Mandela was elected president of South Africa and when Phil Ershler became the first American to climb Mt. Everest from the Chinese North side. I've listened to Mozart Symphonies in the Salzburg town square and I've watched a sushi chef pound a ten-penny nail into the head of a live eel, immediately cut a filet out of the fish's side and offer it to me on the end of the knife. There's no hesitation. You just eat it (chewy!).

When I sat next to Thor Heyerdahl at dinner in a small french village, all the adventurer, who sailed 8000 km across the Pacific Ocean on a raft, wanted to talk about was Seattle and the Space Needle. Travel makes you curious.  And I just keep getting curiouser and cursiouser. The mode of travel is what is causing most concerns today. Travel by air, train and auto all have their dangers.  Even cycling and walking are hazardous in some locales. I can't stop though.  I'm not afraid. I'm cautious and aware but the value is too high to refrain from it.

Just a few days ago, Jane and I were walking a remote beach in the Hawaiian Islands when we encountered another couple. We wanted to trade photos of each other with our cell phones.  In what was good English in my mind, the gentleman told me they were French but he thought he understood.  We traded phones and took pictures of each other. I pulled out my pidgin French from the recesses of my mind and told them we were from Seattle. They nodded "oui" to the reference,

Then I ventured on to try and say that we had flown a huge French flag on top of the Space Needle after the Paris terrorist attack.  Again they nodded and said they were from Paris. Finally I said we had the French Consul deliver that flag to the president of the Eiffel Tower just a week before. After a moment of thought, the reply with a smile was "Nous avons vu le drapeau a Paris...Merci beau coup." (We saw the flag in Paris.  Thank you very much.)

That is why travel means so much to me.  I would not trade that experience for anything. I hope that 2016 brings good health and happiness to all of us. And that our world becomes a more peaceful and safe place. Travel will definitely be in my future and I hope it's in yours. Keep on, keeping on. And look out for Number 146.

Taking a chance...

Investing in the stock market is not much different than putting your money in a slot machine at the local casino. It's a game of chance.I'm much more of a mutual fund guy, who spreads his money across the field but, every once in a while, I'm coaxed into rolling the dice.

For a few years, I headed the investor relations department during my corporate days and spent many waking hours working with the New York Stock Exchange and the institutional analysts who feed the machine. During one of my weekly visits to the Big Apple, I got into a conversation with one of the market soothsayers about the movies.

I love movies.  They are a true escape for me. So, when the guy in the other overstuffed chair said, "Hey, I've got a movie tip for you,", I listened. It seemed that 20th Century Fox had been on the downslide with a series of box office disasters and was relying on movies like "Smokey and the Bandit" to keep the cash flowing. But my colleague said that the studio had decided to take a real flyer, literally and figuratively.

Space movies were not even in the lexicon at the time and one with an ensemble of unknown actors and a director with barely a decent credit to his name seemed far from a good bet. My friend said he didn't know much about the film himself but one his co-workers in Hollywood had read the script and seen some sample footage that looked pretty exciting.

If it hadn't been a movie, I'm sure my interest would have ended then. And if I hadn't like "American Graffiti" from director George Lucas, I wouldn't have gone one step further. But if the studio, with its stock selling for $6 a share, was taking a gamble on this film, why shouldn't I?

The film, which hadn't been named at the time, would come out in theaters in a year. If nothing unusual  happened before its release and I still felt uncomfortable after a few months, I figured I could get my $6 a share back before it tanked.

I really need to finish this story now. I did invest. At $600 per block of stock, all I would be losing was a new car. There was really no great fanfare for "Star Wars" the movie until it hit the theaters. As it turned out, it was a game changer for the film business. It's wide release across the county set the standard for blockbuster films for years to come.

20th Century Fox stock doubled in a week.  It tripled in six weeks and a year later, it was four times what I paid for it. 21st Century Fox, the parent of the film studio now owned by Rupert Murdoch, is still selling for $28 a share.  It no longer owns the Star Wars franchise. That has gone to Disney. But it still holds the rights to the first 3 movies in the series.

I haven't taken too many flyers in the stock market and certainly never expected this one to do what it did. A movie that you can see in a theater and hear people talk about is much more fun to me than investing in the latest app or a new processor. Don't worry, the 401K is still mostly in mutual funds...but I did invest in Marvel Comics before the Avenger series was brought to the screen by my old friends at 20th Century.  The latest news is that Disney is buying out Marvel stock at a 30% premium.

It's a good thing that I just like movies. But I've at least had two fun rides on the roller coaster I'll see you in line as "The Force Awakens".  I'll be the one with the blue light saber and the smile on my face.

The Kiosks of Paris

When my career-military father was first stationed at the Pentagon, our next door neighbor was a French diplomat. He and his wife soon became fast friends with my parents. They were gracious people and home was Paris. When they made their first trip back to France after moving to DC, I asked them to bring me back their favorite souvenir. Not knowing what that would be and not yet having the palette for fine french wine, I anxiously awaited their return.

A few days after they got back, Marie came over for coffee with my mom and said she had found the perfect souvenir. It was a metal cylinder covered with airline ads. On top was a sort of crown and appropriately for the time, when you pulled it open, it was a cigarette holder. The highlight was a music box inside that played "The Last Time I Saw Paris"..

I have to admit, for the kid I was and because I had never been to Paris then, I was not impressed.  I politely thanked her and then asked her what it was. "It's a kiosk, They are all over the city. It's like one of your billboards. It makes us think of home" "Great," I said, 'Thanks again."

At the time, I still didn't really get it but, today, decades later, that kiosk has a place of honor on my desk at home. It symbolizes the adventure that travel has been for me Encountering new places and people. Speaking new languages. Learning to eat escargot and tripe. The differences in culture and customs around the world have literally changed my life for the better.

Jane and I have come to love Paris. We have gotten to know the arrondissements well. We can lose ourselves in the Tuileries and Luxembourg Gardens or just lie on the grass in the mall for hours.  It's easy to fall in love with life there.

If you can't tell, I'm trying to get my mind moving in a positive direction. The tragic happenings around the world are screaming at me every time I turn on the TV or the radio. I've been in Paris this time of year. It's perfect weather for a stroll. The neighborhood shop keepers even cater a bit to the Thanksgiving urges of the ex-pats there. It's time to come out of our holes and see the sun.

As troubling as the events of the past few days have been, I know that somehow Paris and its people will survive this horror and be stronger for it. I've checked on our friends there and they are well...sad and angry but well. I can't wait to sit on the sidewalk at one of our favorite Parisian cafes in the afternoon, watch the people and traffic go by while reading the posters on the Kiosk across the street. Parisians know better than anyone that nothing is more important than living life. Vive la France.