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.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Fatherhood, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Nottingham
When I was in Nottingham recently, I walked a lot.
Not simply because that’s what I do these days, but because it had been 18 months since I was last there and I sensed it would be even longer till I’m next there.
I walked around the streets I grew up in, down the roads my friends grew up in … through parks, past shops, along roads I’d only ever driven past when I was older. It was quite an emotional thing and I was left realizing how lucky I was to grow up in West Bridgford.
I never properly understood that.
For me, it was simply where I grew up … but because I’ve now lived in many places, across many countries [and because it was very sunny when I was there – ha] I appreciated what a special place it was. It is.
Of course, a big part of that is how much it has developed over the years – filled with cafes and independent shops, where previously there was just a ‘hot potato’ cafe and a Boots Chemist – but still, it always felt a haven to me. And in many ways it still does.
Not that I have any intention of moving back there. Maybe once I did … but no more.
The place, as much as I like it, is one filled with ghosts and memories – and while there is a lot to be said for that, I don’t know if I would ever be able to look past that if I moved back.
But it will always be important to me … it will always be a part of me … because it holds the house I grew up in. A house filled with love, memories, laughter and pain. A house where my parents ashes are scattered around their beloved garden.
I drove past the house a few times when I was there.
And I looked at it, feeling it was calling out to me.
A lot has changed since I lived there, but it still has the garden planting pot attached to the house that my Dad built and still has the note we left in the garage when we sold it. That last bit was added to the terms of the sale. That they couldn’t remove it for 20 years … which, having visited it 18 months ago, they have thankfully respected.
I loved that house.
I loved that street.
And while everything is the same, everything is different.
Which is why I was so happy when I went to pay a visit to the cemetery where my parents funerals were held.
Neither were religious and neither had their ashes there, but it was obviously a significant place for me – even if associated with deep sadness – which is why I had ensured I honored their life by having plaques made to be placed on display.
One for Dad in a beautiful rose bush.
One for Mum in a bright sunflower bed.
And then, for both of them, this …
A bench in the grounds of the cemetery, looking out onto the gardens.
It was very emotional finding it.
It felt very personal being with it.
A reconnection to my parents, my childhood, my home.
I’d looked for it – and the rose/sunflowers – last time I was there but couldn’t find it.
The cemetery is vast and would take days to walk everywhere, so was sad when I went away empty handed. But this time, I was determined and while I still couldn’t find the flower plaques, I somehow stumbled on the bench and it made me so happy.
Suddenly my parents were in the present. We were all together again.
And given so much has happened since my Dad passed in 1999, it was a moment for me to bring them up to date and introduce them to the life their beloved son has managed to pull-off. I say ‘pull off’, but the fact is, they gave me the lessons and encouragement that helped so much of it happen.
I miss my parents.
I miss West Bridgford.
But what this visit reinforced to me is you can take the boy away from his roots, but you can’t take the roots away from the boy.
And I’m so, so grateful for that fact.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Education, Eye, Health
As some of you know, I have had a serious eye problem since the beginning of the year.
What makes it worse is that it has affected the eye that was once my ‘good eye’.
Over the past 6 months, I’ve had all manner of drugs, tests and specialist visits and unfortunately, it keeps finding new things wrong with it rather than fixing the things we knew were wrong.
It’s pretty shit to be honest, but one thing happened a few weeks ago that made me laugh.
So I’m at the surgeons and they discovered the pressure in my eye was at an extreme high.
In a matter of weeks, it had risen 300% without any clear indication why. They immediately took action, administering all manner of new drugs to try and bring it under control as the ramifications of leaving it could be permanent blindess.
In typical ‘Campbell luck’ fashion, when they first re-checked the results – post first medication – the pressure had actually risen. That really freaked them out and were getting ready to send me to the hospital for an operation to relieve the pressure. But after another check 20 mins later, they saw it was starting to take affect.
Slowly, but as my surgeon said, “any decline is a good decline”.
Eventually things calmed down enough for them to feel good to send me home for a few days before getting me in to check the results again. To increase the odds of things going in the right direction, they gave me some additional meds and said:
“They will make you very sleepy and increase the odds of you needing the lavatory”.
I burst out laughing and said, “that’s an unfortunate combination” to which they looked at me confused.
After what felt like minutes, they laughed before telling me they’d never thought of that before.
Now I am not knocking them – they’re amazing and doing all they can to save my sight – but it did remind me of 2 things I’ve learned over the years.
The first is that very smart people are often a bit stupid outside of their field of excellence.
The second is a quote by the actor, Peter Ustinov who said:
“The people who reach the top of the tree are those who haven’t got the qualifications to detain them at the bottom”.
So much in life seems to be focused on only valuing the ‘academically smart’.
I get it, we need them. They’re brilliant and can do things that few could ever do – regardless of the amount of training.
Doctors.
Scientists.
Engineers.
You definitely don’t want any Tom, Dick or Harry taking on work like that.
But by the same token, there are people who have another set of skills that are just as worthy of respect.
An ability to do things that a doctor, scientist or engineer could never do – and yet has real value and benefit to the rest of us.
I don’t mean ‘everyday generalists’, I mean people with a level of skill and/or craft that represents real ability.
In life we need both groups of people … the academically smart and [for want of a better term] the life smart.
Both offer value and skills to who we are and how we live.
Both do things that the others couldn’t do and probably couldn’t imagine doing.
At a time where more and more companies will only hire those with ‘a degree’, it’s worth remembering that while education is hugely important and valuable we should – like the ad industry – make sure we’re not forgetting to evaluate and value those by what they have done, not simply what they know, because as my old man used to say:
“Talk is easy, action is hard”.
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.