Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Culture, Emotion, Family, Fulfillment, Happiness, Love, Mum & Dad, Paul
There’s a lot of talk about the ‘great resignation’, but as I’ve written in the past, when you spend time talking to the people doing it – or hoping to do it – you learn the correct term for it should be ‘the great reset’ or, in some cases, ‘the last hope’.
The reality is the situation isn’t new.
People have felt trapped in their jobs for decades. Centuries even.
But the basic premise was ‘if you want to earn increasing amounts of money, you have to stay on the path you have chosen’.
It kind of makes sense, until you factor in the economic value of happiness and fulfilment.
Add in companies increasing lack of loyalty towards their employees and you realise the younger generation are both smarter and braver than most of my peers.
I say most because there’s people like my best friend Paul.
I’ve written about Paul’s journey from printer to Frothy Coffee Man but the more I think about it, the more amazing it is.
Because while leaving a paying job to do the same job for yourself is an act of self-belief – acknowledging it still requires a huge amount of effort if you want to continue growing, rather than just stay where you are – leaving a job you’ve done for decades to do something totally different is an act of hope.
Well, that’s what it may seem …
The reality is carrying on doing something you aren’t enjoying is the most sensible thing you can do.
What stops us is the risk of it failing.
The worry that instead of taking a step forward, we end up going backwards.
And then that idea fucks with your head and you end up carrying on as you were.
Miserable is your arrested development of life.
But Paul didn’t do that.
He decided to do something about it …
Now becoming Frothy Coffee Man wasn’t all a punt in the dark.
While he hadn’t done it before, he loved the idea of being self-employed. He loved the idea of dealing with people. He wasn’t frightened of hard work. He was realistic about what he needed and wanted out of it. He loved being outdoors. And his fucking wonderful personality was made to build relationships with strangers.
He also had an incredibly supportive wife who encouraged him.
As well as a best mate who did the same. ie: Me.
So he went for it. And it has been the best decision of his life … first emotionally and then pretty soon afterwards, financially.
I’ve written a lot about how my parents drilled into me the importance of fulfilment over contentment.
To be honest it took me a long time to realise what they truly meant.
But in essence it was this.
Always choose the bigger life.
I’m so glad Paul did it. I’m so glad I was taught it. I hope more people find theirs.
Because as hard as it may seem, it’s only one considered decision away.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood
Tomorrow would be my Dad’s 84th birthday.
That means he’s been gone 24 years, approaching half my life.
How is that possible?
But of course it is … demonstrated by the fact that I’ve been using the same photos of him on birthday posts for entire time this blog has been going.
Which is over 16 years.
They’re the things that reinforce the time he has been gone.
And yet he’s still here.
Maybe not as much as he was in the past, but where it matters.
Mum and Dad … this seminal duo in my life.
There for the big things in the first and second chapters of my life.
The good and the bad.
Of course I’d love them to still be here.
As I’ve written many times, the fact I have not been able to talk to my Dad about the life I’ve found myself living is one of the great sad parts of my life.
He’d have been thrilled.
And full of questions.
Which I would have absolutely loved to have answered for him.
I sometimes try to think of all the things he would have asked.
Some would be obvious, but his brain was so wonderful he would have thrown out some very unique questions. Questions that would make me think as much as he would be considering the answer.
Wanting to understand.
Wanting to connect.
Wanting to grow because of it.
That’s the kind of man he was. He deserved so much more than he ended up getting … but what he offered as a father was unsurpassed.
Even with the bits that used to drive me nuts.
Like the love of his sweet pea flowers, which were treated like new born children.
I still remember the time I ran in the house from the garden and trampled on them – as he’d left them in boxes by the windows to care for.
That was NOT a good conversation … hahahaha.
But I never doubted his love for me – and hopefully he felt the same – which for a parent, must be one of the greatest accolades a kid can give.
Hopefully Otis will think that about his old man.
Because I definitely think that about his grandpa.
Happy birthday Dad. Give Mum a big kiss from me.
Rx
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Love, Otis
I was going through some photos when I came across this …
It feels like a million years ago, but it’s less than 2 years ago.
It was taken around Christmas 2020 …
We were living in England and we’d recently bought that house.
We knew we weren’t going to be in it for long as I’d accepted the job at Colenso … but we wanted to enjoy it as much as we could while we were there.
And so we did.
But the snow added a new dimension to the experience.
It came down a lot over a few short days and so for the first time since I had left the UK 25 years earlier, I was in a place that had enough snow to mess about with. For Otis, it was the first time he could … the first time he properly experienced snow … and after he’d accepted it was bloody cold, it was a bloody challenge to get him back indoors.
Oh the fun.
Snowball fights.
Building snowmen.
Slipping and sliding.
It was amazing.
All topped off by us getting into our giant hot tub in the garden to get warm, while it snowed around us … which was a bizarre – yet awesome – feeling.
And while that house is pretty much isolated in the countryside, so the small roads were all ice rinks, something about that week made the whole thing even more special for us.
A chance to connect to that house. To build a memory with that house. To be a family home.
And yet, when I saw that photo it seemed like another life.
A world away from the one we live in now.
Yet it’s still our home.
We may well one day return to it.
And we still utterly love it and its garden.
Lots of people talk about their ‘forever home’. I get it …
But the reality is while a place you grow roots in, is very important … the thing we forget is we have to do the work. It doesn’t happen by itself. Those 4 walls require the interaction of the people in it to build something worth remembering it for.
And while that house only had us in it for 6 months [so far] that photo will forever remind me that sometimes, that’s all you need.
It’s Fathers Day in NZ this Sunday.
A day where we are supposed to be loved and spoiled.
Or at least acknowledged.
That said, I at least tried to buy my Dad some thoughtful stuff.
Or at least personal.
Like a Ms Piggy from The Muppets doll … or a Rolls Royce pencil sharpener.
And while they sound naff, my Dad LOVED both Ms Piggy and Rolls Royce’s exemplified by two things.
1. He kept them his whole life and we placed them in his coffin when he died.
2. I chose to remember my Dad with a tattoo of Ms Piggy.
And while I accept with hindsight, they hardly scream ‘respectful Dad gift’, it’s still waaaaay better than this …
Yep, that’s real.
Which means either someone at the supermarket either wasn’t thinking or they just want to exploit Father’s Day for profit in whatever way they can.
So to all Dad’s out there – past, future, present – I hope you have an amazing day.
And to those who get a gift of Stayfree Ultrathin pads … remember, it’s the thought that counts.
Allegedly.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Content, Context, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Rosie
I had a blessed childhood.
I had unconditional love … continuous support and a caring, family home.
But I never got Electronic Battleships.
Hell, I didn’t even get to play shitty paper battleships.
And frankly, I didn’t care except for the fact when I was a kid, the idea of an ‘electronic’ version of anything was cool so I wanted it.
Then there were the sounds it made.
Or at least the sounds it made on the TV ad.
Holy mother of god. This was 25th century technology.
Kinda.
But did I get it?
Did I hell.
Oh don’t get me wrong, I was spoilt over the years with a lot of electronic stuff …
Blip. Demon Driver. Astro Wars. Philips G7000. Game and Watch. Merlin. Tin Can Alley … which was the most rubbish thing ever made.
But no Electronic Battleship.
And the only reason I was able to deal with it is because I never really liked board games and my Dad hated them even more … so even if that wasn’t the case, only my Mum would be available to be an opponent and war was not something she rightfully wanted to encourage.
For 52 years I lived perfectly well without having Battleships in my life until one day I came home and found Otis had got a set and wanted to play.
Not Electronic Battleships [still being denied all these years later] but battleships all the same.
So we sat down at the table … facing each other and prepared to unleash naval hell on one another.
I should point out Otis had never played Battleships before.
I should also point out he’s 7 years old.
So you’ll understand why my view of Battleship has evolved from indifference to hate because 37 minutes after commencing our game, my son had blasted all of my stupid, crappy, cowardly ships out the water.
Crap game anyway.