Rothacker Reviews

The Last Lecture - Brief Synopsis

The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch

"What wisdom would you impart upon the world if you knew your demise was to be immediate ?"  "What matters most to you?"

College professors are frequently asked to plan a lecture with these questions in mind.  The searing difference between Randy Pausch's last lecture and all of the others?  Prior to the lecture, Randy was told he really did have only a couple of months to live.

If you can read, are related to one other person on this planet and have a heart, you must pick up this book and listen to what Randy told his students and in turn told the world.

Along the Yellow Brick Road

Work has really gotten the best of me over the last eight months. 

"Awww, come on dave, that's one of the wimpiest sentences you've ever written."

Work penetrated the insides of my head with an icy-cold wake up dagger, "dave, no more cruise control.  If you want to work here..."  And with one big ole commitment I fast-tracked on a laser train right out of my personal life.  No worries.  It's what I needed.  Rosemary has been cool and Carla is a teenager.

A phenomenal effort by my team at work has secured my employment with this company for a little while longer.  While I cannot let up, I need to slow the train down and get back to that comforter that wraps itself around my soul and heart, the one that on a storm-filled day warms my mind, the one that a hurricane cannot pry loose, and the one that is one with dave's dna - dave's writing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John Maxwell says, "No dream grows out of a vacuum.  It grows out of a dream.  Whether you know it or not, your life has been preparing you for your dreams."

Those who know me know that I am a fifty-one year old bald guy who has had no idea what I want to be when I grow up.  My heart, soul and mind have been ripped from my body and beaten against the rocks of not knowing. The pain of not knowing, of thinking that my answers were out ahead on the road before me have been excruciating, mind numbing and paralyzing.  The pain has sucked oxygen from my life, leaving me most often doubled over in pain.

But for the last five or six years, I've known the answer to my question is and really always has been inside...just like John says.  Something is beginning to stir within dave's soul...  I feel like the sun is trying to penetrate the clouds that accompany my journey.  Something is happening...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While my writing has taken it in the back over the last eight months, my reading hasn't.  And lately I seem to be not only smoking books, but vaporizing them. Picture the robot from the movie Short Circuit...need input, need input.

One of the greatest feelings that I have ever experienced as a human being was a bought of heart-felt appreciation for a book review that I wrote for this one gentleman.  As he told me from six-hundred miles away via telephone what this book review did for him and his company, warms tears streamed down my face.  To know dave is to know that this moment is an anomaly.  This was about six years ago and I packed this experience up in my back pack that I carry on my life's journey.

Writing book reviews and telling folks what excites me about others and their work is a portion of my comforter's dna.  John says they've always been there.  dave says he knows.  Johns says to tune in.  dave says they've walked every foot of the Yellow Brick Road with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Because my back log of books to write about is so long, I am going to start writing a very short synopsis about each one.  Afterwords I'll follow up with additional posts elaborating.

The mix of first and third person in this post is by design.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it oh great magazine editor!!

Good Vibrations

At some point over the last few years I lost the desire to camp out at the local post office in sweet anticipation of my next Fast Company magazine.  I cannot wax lyrical articulation as to why.  I can only say that maybe, just maybe, they lost a little bit of their soul.

A Westerly wind blew into my life a couple of years ago and gently nudged me into the prevailing trade winds of Design.  I've read many books on the subject and subscribe to at least four different design magazines.  An appreciation for design has allowed for a finer appreciation of culture and deeper tie-ins to the art of communication.  The ability to look through a different lens at one's favorite subjects is most exhilarating!

Sailing at sea with my four design magazines, I always seem to notice when other design magazines float by.  It was about a year ago when I picked up Good.  Aesthetically, it has off the chart design appeal.  I love it.  But it is Good's content that has me remembering Fast Company's good old days.  Creators say Good is for people who give a damn.  They say it's an entertaining magazine about things that matter.  I agree.  Troll through their Website a bit and you'll get a feel.

When one subscribes to Good, one-hundred percent of that payment goes to one of its twelve nonprofit partners.  My proceeds go to Room to Read. 

"Perhaps, sir, you will someday come back with books."

While visiting a remote mountainous area in Nepal, John Wood, founder of Room to Read, came upon a school in horrific condition.  It did however, have a library.  The problem - it contained fewer than twenty books. 

John did go back...with books.  Room to Read grew from the seeds of John's gestures.

We construct force fields to survive the daily onslaught of advertising overload.  (unless, like me, you crave the stuff. I'll explain this sickness in a future post).  Sometimes however, a message pierces your armor and lodges in your heart.  The second that I heard about John's mission was the second right before Room to Read's message landed in my heart.  There will most definitely be some sort of dave-involvement with this organization in the future!

Thanks for coming into my life Good!

Tide Away

"Tide-away Dad, duh"

So it's early on Saturday morning and I am taking Carla to USF to play in a high school basketball tournament this past weekend.  As my coffee level is one cup short, I pull into a Mickey Dees to refuel.

"Daaaaaad," Carla cries, moans and pleads at the same time, "We're going to be late."

Actually we're about ten minutes ahead of schedule.  Daughter number one was sixteen, eleven years ago. I could've sworn the ants had left her pants by that time.  Daughter number two, Carla, has built up the infrastructure and made community improvements in her drawers.  The ants aren't going anywhere soon.

Two minutes out of Mickey Dees and I now have a coffee stain on my white shorts the size of a softball.  Oh well, whatta ya going to do?  I'm going to a basketball game, who cares?

"Daaaaaad, you aren't not going anywhere in those shorts!!"

Actually, embarrassing our children in public is something that Rosemary and I live for.  Now I am definitely feeling pretty good about the situation.

"Carla, what to you want me to do?"

At this point though, I know I'm at the kid's mercy.  She can be like a dog that won't let go of its bone.  She will absolutely hammer on me until I concede.  Note to self: Groom Carla Ziglar to be a saleswoman.

"Tide-away Dad!  Duh!!"

I look at her in absolute bewilderment.  I figure she is talking to me in code.  She thinks I'm one of her female friends who talk faster with their thumbs and a phone keyboard.

"Oh dear God, Dad!  Tide-away, you know the stuff you put on stains."

Actually I didn't know. 

"Ok, we'll stop at the grocery store and we'll be on our way."

The ants began to elevate Carla off of her seat.

"Ok relax, I'm just kidding."

I drop her off at USF, then I go to the grocery store.

The stuff worked great and I didn't get to embarrass daughter number two.

The stuff is really called Tide to Go.  Besides having fun with Carla, this truly was a learning experience for me.  I had no idea there was something that looked like a magic marker that you could just rub on your clothes and get rid of stains.  Now everyone at work is going to think I started using a bib at lunch. 

Beyond

The concept of beyond is a personal value.  It is a personal principle, standard and mindset.  It does not represent the after-life.  It represents what is ahead on the road of life...if and only if, I am willing to strive for it.  Because if I am just walking down the road of life, like a hamster walks his wheel, I will miss what is beyond and I will only continue to see what I see.

Next to Oz is the Yellow Brick Road, Vaporize Boundaries is my own personal favorite mindset.  To make boundaries melt into the sunset is the physical act of beyond.  To break a four-minute mile, to break nine-five in the one-hundred meters, to walk after being wheelchair bound, to achieve an A in Algebra after cranking out eight years of C's in Math, to become sober, to repair relationships with family, to invent a new paint can...what has not yet been done - that is possible?

To envision what can be done is the mental act of beyond.  To find work that is enjoyable and meaningful, while still able to support one's family, to connect two individuals and smell the aroma of their collaborative effort, to forge written words from the colander of one's soul to help liberate another's burden or to improve their life or business, to connect to another's words, allowing them to lubricate the gears within your mind and hit a new level of thought...what can be imagined - that is possible?

What is beyond is different.  And what is different is a kernel of knowledge that we did not before possess.  A kernel of knowledge gained strengthens our journey and expands the boundaries to what lies beyond.

What Does a Billion Mean?

At the mere mention of politics I turn stone deaf.  When someone asks me what party I am in, I tell them I haven't been invited.  I apologize to the hard working, honest folks in the world of politics who are out there trying to make a difference, even though you could fit all of them into a Volkswagon.

Read this and see if it doesn't place some well deserved perspective on the world of politics.

Download what_does_a_billion_mean_to_you.pdf

Hey Coach: Shouldn't we be running suicides?

Carla Rothacker:  "Hey coach, if girls were late last year Coach P made us all run suicides."

Vickie started playing softball in 1986.  Since then Rosemary and I have gone through twenty-two years of coaches with the girls.  They both played softball and basketball.  (Carla is a sophomore playing basketball for a Hillsborough county high school).  Last year she played for Coach P., who is in our top three of best all time coaches.  Coach P took over a troubled girl's basketball program.  He was tough love.  He left the program to pursue other scholastic athletic endeavors in the State of Florida.  We miss him dearly.

Carla's coach this year is well intentioned.  He wants to win and he wants the girls to do well.  I believe that this is his first year at the high school level.  He displays a public temper and lacks discipline amongst the troupes.  His temper is obvious.  That he lacks discipline comes from Carla's comment about the fact that she misses running suicides if girls are late.  Carla's remarks pierced my nearly thirty years of management experience like a hot knife cutting through soft butter.  My dear friend Rosa Say, from her book Managing With Aloha:

When a leader is respected, he will find that others want to be guided, and he's the one they choose to lead the way for them; he's the one that others are naturally compelled to follow.

Our young basketball coach will eventually learn this.  But his adventures cause me to look inside.  Is the grip that I have upon the helm of my own ship firm enough?  Honestly?  It hasn't been.  I've let the excuse of my health and nagging self doubt allow my grip to slip.

Note to dave in the future:  davie,  at this time you are working with the most passionate, hungry-to-learn group of people that have ever been under your tutelage.  You got your head out of your ass and recognized this.  You grabbed hold of the wheel...with conviction.  Your people loved that you would tell them to run suicides if you needed to!

Post Secrets

Post Secrets by Frank Warren.

Frank Warren is a double secret probationary undercover salesman for the United States Postal Service.  Here is his story:

In 2004, Frank printed and randomly distributed 3000 postcards inviting people to share a secret with him.  Here was his request:

• Take a postcard, or two.
• Tell your secret anonymously.
• Stamp and mail the postcard.
• Be brief - the fewer the words used the better.
• Be legible - use big, clear and bold lettering.
• Be Creative - let the postcard be your canvas.

Frank created a Post Secret Web site and has authored four books publishing postcards that he has received.

The Post Secret book soothes my compulsive need to be in touch with pleasing design.  I even like the way it smells.  But it's the stories on the postcards that steal the show.  Though fewer than two or three sentences complete an entire story, one feels emotionally exhausted after reading just a few.  Strangers revealing and illustrating their deep, dark secrets is mysteriously intriguing.  Or perhaps not.  Perhaps it's just therapeutic and not mysterious to learn that others have held secrets, like our own, close to the vest for years.

That Frank's book is so popular and that so many people have been to his site give evidence to either our morbid curiosity or a deeper need to hear other's stories and connect with them...even if it is at the level of, "hey man, I hear your problem, I can relate brother."

Here are two postcards that aren't quite so heavy:

Frank Warren liberates desperate housewives.

Frank Warren provides a Starbuck's moment.

 

Christmas Kindness and Smiles

Carla and I are standing in line waiting to check out a present for Rosemary when I say to her, "How much money you got?"

She says, "I think I got a ten and a couple of ones."

I say, "You got a ten?  Give me the ten."

She takes her backpack off and starts to rummage through it.  (Note to self- observe whether or not teenagers use purses anymore).  She spends a good three or four minutes digging through her mini backpack when the thirty-something Asian girl standing behind us hands me a pen.  "You need a pen?"

This small act of kindness brings about an appreciative smile to my face but wells up a tidal wave of warmth inside.  It's just such a nice thing to do.  I explain to her that I am asking the kid for a ten.  I'm not sure she understands me, but she smiles.

I walk out of the store with a smile that lasts the entire day.

Design: Do You Love Your City?

Ben lived in a rather small city of 15,000 people.  He spoke of it as wonderfully designed.  He liked the large streets that made up a perfect grid.  Ben cared about where he lived.  So when the unpaved streets became muddy and wreaked havoc on the merchants, he worked to get the community involved and the streets paved.  But dried mud on the paved streets was also a problem.  So Ben created and distributed a pamphlet that stated the advantages of hiring a street sweeper.  A few days later when he canvassed the neighborhoods, Ben discovered unanimous support.

About this time the townspeople wanted to light their city.  Ben took note of John Clifton's house.  John simply kept a lit lamp outside of his front door at night.  Ben and John purchased a few lamps from overseas.  Ben noticed a flaw in the oil lamp's design.  There were no provisions to draw air from the bottom which would prevent a buildup of smoke and soot.  Ben redesigned the lamp to allow air to move freely through the lamp. 

Wisdom quickly became a byproduct of Ben's life.  He used the street paving and lamp stories to tell folks about happiness and attention to small matters.  He said that dust (or soot) blown into the eyes of a single person or merchant was not much of a problem.  But when dust was blown into the eyes of an entire city, it could shut down the city.  A simple plan to sweep the streets or a small design change to the lamps were examples of paying attention to seemingly small matters.  Ben said human happiness is not so much a result of lucky events that rarely come our way.  Rather, happiness is more often a result of the little advantages that accumulate every day.

He went on to say that if you want to make the world a better place, do something as basic as teaching a poor young man how to shave himself and keep his razor in good shape.  In doing this, you may contribute more to his happiness in life than by giving him a lump sum of money.  He said, money easily gained is often foolishly spent and latter regretted, but a good skill pays dividends for a lifetime.

A few small incidents from Ben's life here demonstrate a remarkable ability to market, to be creative, to design, to pursue happiness and to teach. 

Ben was a pretty smart guy and yes, Benjamin Franklin loved Philadelphia, his city.  Do you love yours?

This story of Benjamin Franklin can be found in Benjamin Franklin by Blaine McCormick.