Posted: October 26, 06 - 09:13 AM | Category:
People |
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Despite the fact that I live in New England, I’m not particularly fond of winter, or the cold, in general. Having grown up in New Jersey and lived in Florida for a short stint, I prefer a slightly warmer climate.
I know the next four months will be a challenge for me. The air is now crisp. The autumn splendor is winding down. The firewood has been split and stacked (a week later, I’m still sore). The first traces of ice have been spotted. And the juncos have returned once again, apparently finding our winter weather a pleasant alternative to what they would have faced further north.
My wife is from the region. Her family is here. My parents have recently joined us. Like it or not, I have accepted my fate: I am here for the duration.
On the bright side, we have the good fortune of living in a charming, quiet, and rural area, situated in a small valley directly across the street from a Christmas tree farm.
Being in a valley of Christmas trees means several things:
We get to enjoy gentle, rolling hills - especially nice for sleigh riding.
During the holidays, we can simply walk out the front door, saw in hand, and return a short while later with a tree.
And as is the case with most valleys big or small, at the bottom of our little valley is a peaceful, rolling stream, attracting an abundance of interesting wildlife (hawks, beavers, deer, bobcats, fishers, possibly a mountain lion or two). Not to mention the occasional small child.
After walking my first grade son to the bus stop this morning, I allowed myself to be sidetracked on my return trip with a leisurely, reminiscing stroll.
As I walked down the hill, I was reminded of seasons past, and our celebration of the winter solstice which included sledding, snowball fights, a giant snowman and some cheap champagne.
I stopped at the stream, and could see for a moment my two little boys splashing and frolicking in a summer adventure.
Walking through the trees, I could hear the voice of my three old calling to me during a game of hide and seek, “You can’t find me, Daddy!” (He was wrong. I did find him, and he was covered in Christmas tree needles.)
I’ve lived in and travelled around Europe. Been to Disney. Taken cruises around the Caribbean. Seen the Stones at Shea and Springsteen at the Meadowlands. Partied with the best of ‘em (and the worst of ‘em).
But in the end, those things all pale in comparison to the simple, special, everyday moments I am blessed to share with my family in our little nook in the woods.
Yes, even the ones that happen in winter.
Posted: August 16, 06 - 08:40 AM | Category:
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This is a ridiculous, but true story. The names haven’t been changed to protect the innocent. It’s about something I did that was so moronic, my penance is to publicly humiliate myself by sharing it with the world…
Since I’m a “digital professional,” I store most of my computer files in multiple locations, usually on external hard drives. These things are great, as they allow you to easily backup your entire computer with the click of the button. They also store 100’s of gigabytes of data, which is important if you do a lot of work with audio and video, as I do.
Before going on a short vacation to Cape Cod a few weeks ago, I found myself thinking about what would happen if these hard drives were stolen. I don’t really care all that much about commodity items like cameras, computers, TVs, etc. Insurance will replace them, (usually with a much better model). It’s the data that’s important - and frequently - irreplaceable.
For example, these disks contained:
- Seven years worth of family photos
- Six months worth of work for a new business I’m launching
- Personal financial records
- And just about every other digital file, picture, video, or document that I’ve worked on in the past five years
Some of the data was still on my computers, but a lot of it wasn’t. So as I was locking up my office before heading out, I did what any other responsible family man / self-employed business man would do: I hid my important stuff where no nitwitted home invader would bother to look…
In the garbage. (I think you know where this is going, don’t you?)
Actually, it was my paper recycling bin. Who would ever think to go through the recycling looking for stuff to steal, when all this cool computer gear is up for grabs and effortlessly within reach?
A week later, we returned from the Cape. Beautiful weather, a bit hot. Great fun swimming and frolicking on the beach. Had a lovely time, thank you.
The next day, it was time to do the household chores. And that includes the monthly “dump run.” (It’s actually a waste and recycling transfer station, but “dump” sounds better, more manly.)
Jump ahead two days to Monday morning. I arrive bright and early, just after 7:00 AM. Fully refreshed after my only week off in more than a year. Rip roarin’ ready to get back to work.
I walk around my office, plugging the electronics back in, turning stuff on. But something isn’t quite right…
“Now where are those external hard drives that connect to these plugs dangling in the air? Oh, that’s right they’re in recycling bin, safely hidden from bad guys. Hey, wait a minute, the tubby is empty. Oh that’s because I went to the...”
AHHHHHHH!
It was one of those Macaulay Culkin, Home Alone type moments.
Realizing I didn’t have a moment to waste, I quickly hopped in my car and sped off (in the rain) to the transfer station, where I expected to find one of the following:
- It would be closed, and I would have to scale the fence and break in.
- It would be open, but I would be sent packing.
- Either of the above, but the dumpster would be empty, or too full for me to go through it and find anything.
I arrived to find the gate open. Good sign. But people were in the office. I envisioned our exchange would go something like…
Excuse me sir, I accidentally threw away a few of my most important possessions the other day…
External computer hard drives…
Hard drives, for data…
Why were they mixed in with my paper recycling?
Yes, I was afraid of bad guys…
Me, paranoid? Yes, just a bit I suppose…
Stupid? Is that a rhetorical question?
Listen - would it be alright if I jumped into that giant dumpster over there and had a look?
Yes, I see that exit sign over there...
So I parked my car and jumped in. The way the station is set up, you throw your waste down into the giant dumpsters, which are maybe 20 feet long, 8 feet wide and 8-10 feet deep.
Problem was, when I was there on Saturday morning, it was only about 1/4 full. Now, it was about 3/4 full. That means four or five feet of paper, folders, boxes and miscellaneous non-recyclable garbage had piled up in the general vicinity of where I thought my devices would be. Since the hard drives are about the size of your average hard copy book, it reminded me of that story about a needle and a haystack.
After searching for about forty five minutes, I started to uncover some of my junk mail, so I knew I was at least searching in the right area. Took a short break, skimmed through someone’s L.L. Bean (alright, Victoria’s Secret) catalogs, and got back to work.
Lifting one sheet of paper doesn’t require much effort. Sorting, moving and digging through tens of thousands (millions?) of pieces of paper is absolutely exhausting, however.
With fingers bleeding, shredded bills and bank statements clinging to my sweaty, dirty hair and body, fighting off avalanches of paper, I was on the verge of quitting.
But then, I had a vision of my wife standing there screaming at me upon my return, “You did WHAT with our baby pictures?!” - and I found the strength to carry on.
After a few more minutes of searching, I caught a glimpse of something shiny among the tons of paper and garbage.
BINGO! I found one. Despite a few minor scratches, it looked OK.
Stopping to take a breather, I noticed the station manager staring down at me, soon followed by another worker. At this point, I really didn’t care if they threw me out. Actually, I was almost hoping they would. I had found the more important of the two hard drives. If I could only return home with one, this would be it.
But upon hearing my pathetic story, they took pity upon my wretched soul and let me continue. You just can’t make this stuff up.
The search continued, but was fruitless. I finally returned home, not a quitter, but to have some breakfast and get my metal detector.
Upon opening the door to greet me, my wife had the look of confused horror on her face. “Where were you?” she asked.
Since I work from home, it’s a bit strange for me to suddenly leave in the morning, only to return a few hours later looking disgusting and dirty, with a strange, shiny little metal box in my hands.
Suffice it to say, I returned to the transfer station an hour later. And within fifteen minutes, I had located the second unit with my metal detector. Upon re-connecting them to my computer, they both worked fine.
Ironically enough, the next day, one of my computer’s hard drives had a complete failure. I lost everything on it. Many of these files had been backed-up to one of the external hard drives I threw away - the second one I almost didn’t find.
All’s well that ends well. Ridiculous story with a happier ending than I deserved. Yes the moral of the story would have been much more powerful (and more entertaining, for you at least) hadn’t I recovered the drives. But I did catch a huge break, and for that I am grateful.
In closing, here are a few things I learned that day which I’d like to share with you:
- Back up your important data in multiple locations.
- Shred any documents you throw away that have personal information on them. (With what I saw in that dumpster, I am simply amazed there isn’t more account-siphoning identity theft.)
- Wear gloves when dumpster diving.
- And of course, don’t hide valuables in the garbage.
- Oh yeah, and take a moment to give thanks when life throws you a break.
Thanks.
Posted: July 24, 06 - 09:56 AM | Category:
People |
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Dave wasn’t a bad guy, really. But he did know how to get into trouble.
Fortunately for him, he was smart enough to know he needed to change course or his current path would only lead him to more trouble, prison, or worse.
Lenny was only twenty four, and just a few years older than Dave. A smart guy and a hard worker, Lenny was already the store manager, and on a different path than Dave. But Lenny was going in the right direction.
When Dave responded to the job posting for the assistant store manager vacancy, everyone thought he was just kidding himself. Even he knew it was a long shot, but he also knew he had nothing to lose. But what the hell…
Most people wouldn’t have given Lenny a second thought, “Thanks for stopping by—careful the door doesn’t smack you in the ass on the way out.”
But not Dave.
It occurred to the rising young store manager that maybe he wasn’t all that different from the guy most people thought to be a no-good street punk. Perhaps it was nothing more than a misguided youth and a few bad choices that seperated them?
Although Lenny was aware of Dave’s shady history, as well as his lack of experience and education, Lenny had a hunch that all Dave really needed was a second chance.
So, just as the interview concluded, as Dave was expecting to be escorted off the premises, Lenny asked him when he could start working. Shocked and elated, he started immediately.
For several years, Dave and Lenny worked well together. Dave was grateful for the opportunity, and was a tireless, dedicated employee. And Lenny knew he could count on Dave to hold down the fort when necessary.
But as it turned out, retail store management just wasn’t Dave’s thing. So when the opportunity came up to join a stock broker’s training program, he jumped at it.
Eventually, Lenny also moved on to bigger and better things. He went back to school, and then enjoyed a career as an engineer for one of the world’s top technology companies.
And forty seven years later, although comfortable enough to retire, Dave still enjoys being a stock broker. And he still keeps in touch with Lenny.
You see, every year, on the date that he was originally hired to be the assistant store manager for that Woolworth Five and Dime Store, Dave calls or sends a note to Lenny.
Every year for nearly half a century, Dave has taken the time to thank the person who gave him his big break - the guy who gave some “no-good street punk” a second chance.
That’s because Dave knows that if it wasn’t for Lenny, his life probably would have been over before it ever really got started.
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"Give people a second chance if they screw up. Even people who have stolen from us have become, when given a second chance, incredibly loyal and valued employees. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t been given second chances.”
- Sir Richard Branson, Founder/CEO of Virgin Group
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Posted: July 20, 06 - 09:15 AM | Category:
Spirit |
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The following is a true story.
If you grasp what I am about to share with you, it may change your life.
It was a typical New England fall day, about ten years ago. My beautiful bride and I were driving down a scenic country road on a late Friday afternoon. We had been married a few months and were on our way to visit her parents. Apparently, that’s what newlyweds do on Friday night when they live near the woman’s parents.
We were talking. Actually, I was talking, she was listening - or at least pretending to listen (it’s a defense mechanism - I babble a bit as you’ll soon see).
At the time, we lived in a small apartment - the top floor of an old farmhouse. Downstairs, lived another young couple. They weren’t married, but they were engaged. Later they married, but divorced three months later. Marriage isn’t for everyone. Onward…
I’ve been playing the drums on and off for the past 25 years. Not very well, but I play. Notice, I didn’t refer to myself as a “drummer.” I’m always afraid the ghost of Buddy Rich will come to haunt me if do.
At the time, I hadn’t played for a few years, and really missed it. I just love the way it feels when you catch a groove just right.
Why did I stop? Well, I have this persistent memory of being 12 years old, playing in my garage with the doors wide open. Loved it. But the neighbors were less than enthusiastic. One day, the woman across the street roused me from my tribute to the late, great John Bonham of Led Zeppelin fame:
“I can’t take it anymore!” she wailed in a gin-soaked voice. “Please, stop - or at least close the God-damned doors! My nerves, my nerves are shot - just look at me!”
She wasn’t kidding - was shaking like a chihuahua.
So, I closed the doors, and stopped.
And I never felt comfortable playing in front of anyone again. Actually, I never even wanted anyone to even hear me play again (I’m fairly certain the feeling is mutual).
OK - back to that car ride…
Well, I have this unfortunate tendency to be overly considerate of others. When combined with that childhood trauma, I just didn’t feel comfortable setting up my drums in my apartment above the soon-to-be married and divorced couple downstairs.
But in the car that day, I found myself thinking about my drums, and music in general. But I realized it wasn’t just the drums I missed. I missed playing. I missed using music to express myself - for better or for worse.
And then it hit me. Why not play something a little more low-key, and neighbor-friendly? The piano would be nice. But I didn’t have a piano, the room for one, or the patience to try and learn how to play. I wanted to play now!
Well hey, how about the guitar!?
I played the guitar for a short while, back in middle school. Took some lessons, enjoyed it, and seemed to have a knack for it, too. ("Duuusssst in the wind, all we are is dussst in the wind...")
I got excited. I wanted to play guitar. I could just feel it in my hands, hear those chords (albeit somewhat off-key) resonating in my mind, sense the dull pain of the new blisters on my fingertips.
Now pay attention - this is the important part...
In that moment, I decided, with excited enthusiasm, and heart-felt emotion, that I would start playing the guitar again.
I chose it.
It was done. I made the decision in that brief moment, a commitment to myself, to start playing the guitar again.
Only there was one problem: I didn’t have a guitar. Nonetheless…
So, we get to my in-law’s house. Wifey disappears upstairs to talk with her mother, leaving me sitting alone at the kitchen table for a moment.
Her father walks in. Customary greetings, offers me a beer, a minute or two of small talk.
Then, completely out of nowhere, he asks, “Joe, ever play guitar?”
Silence.
A bizzarre Candid Camera kind of moment.
I look behind me, to see if my wife is standing there filming this, smiling. Nope. She’s still upstairs. Hasn’t even said hello to her father yet.
I hesitate, and then respond, “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I was just thinking,” he says, walking out of the room for a moment and returning with something in his hands, “I’ve got this guitar here that I brought back from Germany years ago. I just sits there in my closet...”
“I was wondering if you wanted it.”
Stunned, surreal silence.
Keep in mind, he and I had never before discussed guitars. I didn’t even know he had one, or had ever played. And he had no knowledge of the conversation that had taken place on the ride over, and was completely unaware of my newfound desire to start playing.
Needless to say, I graciously accepted the gift.
And today, I still play it occasionally. But the reason I keep my guitar next to my desk, is because it serves as a constant reminder of what can happen when you combine the incredible forces of choice, commitment and intention - and multiply them with the powers of passion and visualization.
By the way, I no longer need to settle for the guitar, as I also have my drums up here in my office which I play from time to time (but I still close the door).
Coincidence? I think not.
Choice.
Posted: July 17, 06 - 09:02 AM | Category:
FAQ |
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I’ve always loved the domain name RequiredReading.com. I originally aquired it back 1999 from a woman who wasn’t using it. I thought it would make a good name for an ecommerce / internet marketing email newsletter I was planning to publish. I think I paid a couple hundred bucks for it.
After several months of writing this weekly newsletter, I stopped. Just couldn’t do it - but didn’t know why. As it turns out, it took me another six years or so to realize that I actually despise internet marketing as an industry, and all of the deception and get-rich-quick hype that surrounds it.
RequiredReading.com was also my first blog, back in 2000. That was back when you had to explain what a blog was, and the word still sounded funny. I wrote on and off for the next two years. Mostly goofy stuff, some semi-interesting observations about life and the world. But nothing worthy of the name “Required Reading.”
Then, 9/11 came along. I wrote one more post after that - but I was at a loss for words. The desire to write was gone. Nothing worth writing came to mind. Everything I had to say just seemed so trite.
But here we are now, five years later. The baby who sat on his father’s lap, watching with awe and amusement as the twin towers crumbled to the ground, is now on his way to first grade. His little brother, who was then only a glimmer in Daddy’s eye, will soon be celebrating his three and half year birthday (yes, we celebrate half birthdays for the kids, but sing only every other word of “Happy Birthday to You!").
The urge to write and share is back. But in order to do the name RequiredReading.com justice, it has to be something worth reading. So here’s my goal: I’d like to turn this site/blog into a resource where people can discover life’s little success secrets. Tips and lessons learned that can help others to lead a great life. Sounds bold. But what the hell, might as well think big.
Since I’ve been known to wallow in a prison of delusional, self-imposed misery from time-to-time, I’ve decided to partially rely upon the insights and observations of others, as well. (Especially, those who might be considered more happy and successful than myself.)
While I plan to talk about the creation of abundance and wealth, this isn’t going to be just about making money. We’ve all heard the stories about rich people who are too miserable to enjoy their good fortune. Obviously, there’s more to the equation.
This site is for anyone who wants to improve one or more aspects of their life: financial, spiritual, emotional, physical, and social.
That’s why if all goes as planned, this site will be about things like…
- Discovering little known truths and success secrets common to those who truly enjoy and know how to live life to its fullest.
- How to remove/avoid obstacles that temporarily block us on our path to that which we desire.
- Living healthy, peaceful lives in balance and harmony with others and the world around us.
- Having fun, and rekindling that childlike enthusiasm and passion for simply being alive and doing that which makes our heart sing.
I also plan to also contact others for advice, suggestions and guidance - revealing here what I discover. I would especially like to have a Required Reading List, where successful people can share the books that have had the most positive and profound effects on their lives.
Finally, I dedicate this site to my two little boys (who are not as little as they were when I had this idea).
The thought occurred to me a short while ago that if I died while they were little, it would be difficult for them to learn from their father’s mistakes and small victories. Therefore, what I do know and observe about success and happiness, and what I continue to discover and learn, I have decided to share - with them, and anyone else who might be interested.
Thanks for visiting. I welcome your comments, suggestions and feedback. I hope to soon have something here worthy of the site’s name.
Best Wishes,
Joe Chapuis
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