Filed under: Anniversary, Birthday, Bonnie, Childhood, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Otis, Relationships, Respect, Rosie, Sky, Travel
Today is a complicated day for me.
Because on the positive it would be my brilliant Dad’s 87th birthday … but on the negative, it reminds me that he has been gone 27 years.
Or said another way … almost half my life.
HALF!
That seems both impossible and insane.
Of course, because I think about him so much, he has never truly ‘left me’, but I also begrudge the fact I’ve not been able to share so many of the experiences I’ve had in the intervening 27 years that I’d have loved to have shared with him to see, hear and learn his response and reaction to.
I never got to introduce him to my wife, my son, my cat, my dog and Otis’ bird – Sky.
I never got to talk to him about Singapore, Hong Kong, China, Japan, America, New Zealand.
I never got to seek his advice on dealing with challenges, loss, possibilities and tough choices.
I never got to watch his face as I told him about my career, clients, colleagues and work.
I never got to hear his laugh as I helped him enjoy the experiences, he always wanted to try but never had the chance to do.
But most of all, I never got to keep telling him how grateful I am for the person he is and the person he helped me become.
The irony – as I’ve written before – is that so many of those things I’ve not been able to share with him happened because I am driven by a desire to make him and Mum proud. To repay the love and faith they always showed towards me … whether that was when I was failing exams or when they told me I should still travel despite the fact Dad had experienced a terrible stroke.
So to my wonderful Dad ….
You may not be here but know you’re with me every day … which I know you’d be very happy about, even if I also know you’d also be telling me ‘that I have to get on with my life rather than be held back by yours’, hahaha.
So, with that let me end this post by reassuring you that you – and Mum – never held me back. In fact, you’re two of the biggest reasons why I’ve been able to – and want to – keep moving forward, because in many ways, it’s not just how I repay my gratitude for all you did [and continue to do] for me, it’s how I can say – and show – how much I love you.
And I do. A shit-ton.
So happy birthday Dad.
I send you – and Mum – a big kiss and hug.
I hope you’re holding hands and smiling at the life your son is living more than frowning,
On the bright side, while I still seem very capable of causing all manner of trouble, at least the stuff I get up to these days has a lot less ‘police involvement’ than my earlier years, which has to be a positive doesn’t it? Haha.
Miss you.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Family, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis
I appreciate that in some ways, I’m a total fucking hypocrite writing this.
I work too much.
I travel too much.
I – if I’m being honest – love what I do too much.
That doesn’t mean I don’t love my family with all my heart … however as I wrote recently, I also realize I’d not shown how much of a priority they were to me as much as I want them to feel.
Given my wife has enabled me to have the career – and life – I/we enjoy … and the fact my son is 10 years old … it’s pretty fucking appalling it took me so long to fully grasp this concept to be honest.
That doesn’t mean I’m no longer ambitious, nor does it mean my family have stopped generously encouraging me to go after the things that interest and excite me – it’s just that I’ve chosen to stop being a Labrador Puppy who chases everything that captures my attention and, in terms of my time, my family now always wins … which is something I’m ashamed to admit was probably not always the case, all of the time.
Now I am not trying in any way to suggest I have got it all sorted out. I’m 55, so to have only recently worked this out shows that’s definitely not the case. Nor am I judging anyone who lives or thinks differently. Plus I am still hardwired to fuck myself over – literally today I realized that throughout my entire career, wherever I’ve worked, I’ve been the first person to be in the office day after day after day. All the time. Everytime. Everyday.
Idiot. [Though in my defense, it is often the only time I get to do my work before the mania begins of colleagues, ha]
But the point of this post is one thing I hear from lots of people is their desire to have a better work/life balance.
What ‘better’ is, is up to them … but the likelihood is they want more time with the people that matter most to them than the people who employ them. Yes, that’s an assumption, but I don’t think it is entirely unjustified.
And recently I heard something that not only helped reinforce why this matters, but could ensure you do all you can to make sure it does.
It was this.
If you’re a parent … your role as father or mother will outlive you.
That’s it.
That simple.
And while we all know that, I doubt we think about it in those terms.
I know for a fact that even though my Dad has been gone 26 years and my Mum 10 … their presence and impact in my life continues. And the older I get, the more I realise, respect and am grateful for all they did to ensure they were active and present in my life. Whatever the challenges they faced – and they faced a lot.
Now compare this to work life.
However popular you are, if you’re lucky … you’ll be remembered for maybe a few weeks after you’ve left.
That’s it.
Hell – as I wrote recently – that even applies to those people who started the company, let alone just work for it.
So while I am not saying work or ambition isn’t important – for all manner of reasons – it’s a good reminder of what deserves our focus and who will actually value it the most, for all the right reasons.
Of course, being able to even think this is a privilege, given there’s a shitload of people who want to spend much more time with their family but can’t … or aren’t able to.
But for those who do have that opportunity, I hope you realise it sooner than I did … because regardless how much we love what we do – or how important we think we are – the only place we’re not replaceable is with our kids.
Hopefully.
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In typical fashion, I am away again – I know, less than a week after I was away for over a week – so there’s no more posts till Monday. So enjoy the additional time away from me and hopefully you can spend it with someone you love, not someone who wastes your time. Like me and this blog.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Bonnie, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Family, Fatherhood, Jewellery, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Relationships, Resonance, Respect
On Friday I talked about the ring that had replaced my lost wedding ring.
A wedding ring that had been made to combine both my Dad’s wedding ring and the one given to me by Jill.
I wrote how this new ring had – thank god – been able to incorporate some of Dad’s ring [that I’d had left when I had it resized] as well as some things from Jill’s ring [that she kindly donated to me] so that it was something of real significance and sentimental value to me.
I treasure it.
It’s far more than the metal it’s made of.
But recently I saw something that reminded me why it is so significant.
This …
I don’t know why, but the thought I will [hopefully] know Otis more as an adult than a kid completely fucked with me.
Of course he will always be ‘my child’ but being the person I see every day … the person I watch growing up in front of me … the person he turns to for laughs, help, advice or an audience … the person who loves and hugs his dog … is something I treasure deep in my psyche and soul.
As I wrote before, while all parents know their kids grow up fast, what makes it tolerable is that as they develop … they learn or express new things that you adore, which helps offsets the sadness of seeing the old things you loved, fall away.
But there will be a time where you don’t get to see this growth every day.
Where you aren’t their World, you’re just a part of it. One associated more with the past than the present.
Back in 2016, I wrote about that – based on an brilliant article in The Guardian – and fuck me, if it was hard to deal with then, it’s even harder to accept 9 years later as we get closer and closer to a time he will move on, that you know is coming but wish wasn’t.
That doesn’t mean you don’t want your child to have their own life.
To forge their own interests and passions and journeys moving forward.
But the idea of being relegated to ‘observer’ is hard, even though – as my parents showed with me – it is one of the greatest gift you could ever give your child.
The values to live.
The lessons to progress.
The encouragement to explore.
The freedom to build write your own story.
What brought this all to a head was a video I watched of Michelle Obama recently, talking about her Mum.
“Wow, this went fast”.
Not just watching your child become an adult, but life.
And as much as Mae West said: “you only live once, but if you do it right … once is all you need”, the reality is life does go fast.
What makes it more bizarre is that as you get older … as life passes-by slower … it all seems to accelerate at the same time.
Which is why it’s so important to treasure and value what you have.
Not take it for granted.
Not get swept up with the things that – in the big scheme of things – don’t matter.
It’s taken me a long time to learn this.
It’s taken watching my wonderful, brilliant son grow up to really understand this.
Despite watching my amazing Mum and Dad pass, it’s Otis who has helped me appreciate time and life.
Not just with him, but with everyone around me.
Which is why that video of ‘knowing your child more as an adult than a kid’ hit me.
Not because that is bad, but because the moment is so special.
And while growing up is a good and natural thing – which I have obviously been trying to come to terms with for a long time, given I wrote this about Otis becoming an adult back in 2021 – it’s still a reminder that you rarely know you’re living the time of your life, until after it has passed.
It’s why both those videos may have been uncomfortable reminders.
But also beautiful gifts.
As it’s the end of the week, I thought I’d send us off into the weekend on a positive.
Admittedly, a positive for me, but hopefully the joy will spread to you in some way.
So as I wrote about a few weeks ago, I lost my wedding ring. I have no idea where or how, but having walked the streets, gone through the bins and checked the newspapers – I had to accept it had gone once and for all.
Obviously, I was devastated – made even harder by the fact it was made by fusing my Dad’s wedding ring [one of the only things I had from him] with the one Jill gave me on our wedding day to create something both deeply personal and very sentimental.
However, while I wish it had not gone, I’ve been able to find a way to move forward by creating something new.
And old.
You see, because I’d lost a lot of weight, I’d needed the ring to be resized a few months ago and as part of that, I’d been given a bit of Dad’s wedding ring that had been cut away.
That little bit has been able to be reused in the creation of the new ring which Jill added to, by giving me some teeny, tiny fragments from her original wedding ring that she had redesigned a few years ago.
And to make things as perfect as they can be, it was all crafted by the jeweller who took Dad’s and my wedding ring to turn it into something very special and unique for me.
Of course, it’s not the same as the one I sadly lost, but it’s also an extension of it – which not only makes me feel very lucky, it also helps me feel ‘whole’ again.
How crazy is it that because I lost weight, I was able to still have a bit of Dad’s ring still. And how brilliant is it that my wife thought of a way to connect it back to our original special day.
Amazing.
Though I’ll be considering supergluing it to my finger because even though it was a mistake – and my family were nothing but loving and supportive about it – the feeling I let them down by being careless still stings. Albeit this new version soothes the pain of that a lot.
Not because there’s much financial value, but the human value is priceless.
Have a great weekend, I know I will.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Agency Culture, Ambition, Attitude & Aptitude, Career, Creativity, Dad, Mum, Mum & Dad
What is success?
Is it the job title you have?
The salary you are paid?
The area you live in?
The company you work for. Or with?
The satisfaction you get from whatever it is you do?
The strength to leave a job that is hurting you, even though they are paying you?
The health and wellbeing of your family?
Your friendship circle?
The number of talks you’re invited to be a part of?
Of course, the reality is its different things for different people … made up of many elements, rather than just one … and yet when you look at Linkedin, it appears the only metric worthy of success is one that reaffirms your professional status.
I get it, Linkedin is ‘supposedly’ a professional network … but the myopic view of success is tiring and, arguably, unhealthy.
An obsession with being seen as a ‘thought leader’ … a person who is ‘changing the industry’ … a person who is in an endless stream of ‘leadership positions’.
Don’t get me wrong, it takes a lot of work to achieve that, but there’s 3 issues.
A lot of the ‘thought leadership’ or ‘changing the industry’ being spouted and promoted is – on closer inspection – simply reciting old rules with new terms.
A lot of what the industry calls success is about what is said, rather than what is created.
A lot of the focus is on celebrating an individual, rather than acknowledging the group.
While I fully appreciate that even with this, there’s a lot of effort and commitment people put into it, not to mention it is not their fault the industry chooses to focus on points 2 and 3, rather than them actively pushing it – though some do – my issue is it not only sets a weird definition for success, it also means anyone entering the industry is being told the secret to their progress is not about quality of work, but how popular they can become.
But arguably, it is even worse than that.
Because it also says that the only success worth caring about is professional achievement.
Forget personal fulfilment.
Forget professional development.
Forget health, happiness and family.
If you’re not getting the likes, you’re not living a successful life.
This doesn’t mean you can’t be proud of what you do.
Or who you do it for.
Or even what you get because of it.
But myopically defining success in terms of salary and status is about as toxic as you can get – especially when there are so many people doing so many amazing things across the industry but are universally ignored because they don’t court fame or don’t play the game that the industry increasingly demands you play.
Our industry is a special industry, that can do special things … but we’re in the shit right now, fighting for our relevance, value and impact … and if we’re not careful, we’re in danger of focusing so much on elevating false gods and prophets, while we sink without a trace.
Doesn’t have to be the case … but it will require us to value those who make change rather than are popular for talking about it.
Or as my old man use to say to anyone who joined his firm:
“Be aware of those who need to let others know how smart and successful they are. They’re rarely as good as they like to think they are and elevate themselves up by bringing others down. They pretend they’re saints but behave like devils.”.
There’s a lot of people out there like that these days.
Worse, they’re getting rewarded handsomely for it.
Which is why – whether you are an old hand in the industry or new – it’s worth remembering something my Mum once said to me:
“Money doesn’t define success, it just lets you buy better groceries”.
We all have aspirations and ambitions.
It’s important we don’t confuse them with doing OK in life.
Especially when you remember so much of what many in the industry define as success, is as much down to luck, as it is talent.
OK, enough sanctimonious Paula Abdul x Oprah talk from me today. Even I feel a bit queasy.
See you tomorrow.