Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Community, Context, Creativity, Culture, Emotion, Empathy, Happiness, Harmony, Humanity, Inclusion, Japan, Love, Perspective, Resonance, Respect
Over the years, my wife has told me all she wants me to do is listen to her when she faces challenges, rather than try and fix them for her.
I suspect she is not the only woman who has had this conversation with a man.
And while she knows the reason we do it is out of love, she finds it annoying-as-fuck.
Fortunately we’ve been together so long that its finally got in my thick skull, hence I now listen rather than automatically run to ‘fix’ mode.
The point of this is that I think a lot of advertising needs to adopt this trait.
Too often we think we can solve everything.
Marketing.
Politics.
Poverty.
World hunger.
You name it, our ego believes it can solve it.
But there’s something quite magical in embracing problems rather than trying to solve – or go around them.
Sure, we’re paid to help clients move forward … but that doesn’t always have to be from tackling issues head-on … sometimes, it comes from realizing some problems don’t – or can’t – be solved.
Recently I read something that embodies this perfectly.
A ‘solution’ that doesn’t fix the issue, but deals with it with dignity and grace.
It’s not unique, I’ve seen things like this before and have written about some in the past … but where they tended to be addressing issues in a private environment – such as care homes and parks in the Netherlands – this is something where the public are actively encouraged to be part of the solution.
Except it’s more than that.
Because they benefit as well.
In connection. In understanding and – at a time where there seems to be less of it about – in humanity.
It’s not just magical and beautiful, it’s important. For everyone.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Family, Home, Love, Loyalty, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Nottingham
I watched something recently that made me happy, jealous and sad all at the same time.
I know … I know … they’re the sort of emotional extremes you’d normally associate with a psychopath – but hang in there.
I’ve written a lot about how much I loved my parents. How much I still do.
So many of the decisions and choices I’ve made in my life have been influenced by me wanting them to feel proud of me – even though they’re no longer here and I know very clearly that they were already.
But despite that, I still do stuff that is driven by a desire to thank them for being brilliant parents … to let them know that despite all the moments of ‘stupidity’ that I have embraced throughout my life, the lessons, encouragement and love they continually showed me, were never taken for granted.
Even more so because they never wanted anything from me.
Nor did they ever ask anything of me.
All they desired was that I choose a life of fulfillment over contentment.
It took me a long time to work out what that meant, but once I had worked it out – it fundamentally changed how I lived my life. Giving me clarity at times of confusion or complexity. Hell, it’s one of the main reasons I didn’t go back to the UK when I faced some truly challenging situations while living overseas … because even though I knew they’d love it if I’d gone back [and I’d have loved it too] – I felt I would be disrespecting the gift they’d given me by encouraging me go and explore the world when they were facing such personal hardship through Dad’s illness.
We talked a lot about this when Dad became ill.
I was due to go to Australia when Dad had his stroke. Suddenly I didn’t want to go … I wanted to stay with them and help, which was my new plan right until the moment I told my parents about it.
“NO!” they said.
This was not something they were willing to allow.
Of course they massively appreciated the consideration, but they wanted me to go and live my life rather than – as they saw it – be held back by their situation. Given how hard their situation was, it is fair to say that no one – least of all me – would have blamed them if they had asked me to stay, but they didn’t and I think part of that is because they knew that had I not gone then, I would never have left … and that was an outcome they were never going to allow.
That does not mean life wouldn’t have been good if I had stayed – I loved my parents and I loved Nottingham – but it is also fair to say the life I get to live and enjoy now is nothing like the one I would have experienced if I’d remained. As I’ve written many times before, everything I have in my life today, bar my relationship with my best friend Paul, is because I left the UK.
My family.
My career.
My lifestyle.
My experience.
My experiences.
Every single bit of it … which is why their actions are not only an incredible example of ‘unconditional love’, but also proof of how well my parents knew who I was and – with a bit of encouragement – who I could be.
What a gift.
What generosity.
Which may explain why I felt such a compulsion to repay their love. I don’t mean that just in terms of chasing a life of fulfillment, but in trying to help them make their life easier, happier and – dare I say it – more comfortable.
You see, whatever way you look at it, life wasn’t easy for them. In fact it never was.
Money was always very tight and now, with Dad’s health – and Mum caring for him 24/7 – it had now become even harder.
And while I did what I could, I was not earning the money that would allow me to do what I really wanted for them which was:
Pay off the house and buy Dad a yellow 1970’s, Rolls Royce with white-walled wheels.
In that order.
But hope and reality are separate beasts and even if I could have pulled it off, I know they would have lost their shit over it, because to them, they’d tell me I should be focusing on my future, not theirs.
Which leads me back to the beginning of this post and how I saw a clip that made me feel happy, jealous and sad all at the same time … because I got to watch a kid do this for his parents. Not the Rolls Royce bit, but the house.
I love it.
I love the reaction of the Father.
The slow realisation followed by the cavalcade of emotions …. pride, relief, gratitude and love.
I can only imagine how good the son felt to be able to do that for his folks.
And while my parents did – in the end – get to pay off the family home, it was not because of me but because of an insurance payout they received for a car accident they’d been involved in 5 years prior. And while I wish they hadn’t had to experience the accident to be able to pay off the home, I also know how happy it made my parents – especially my Dad, who knew he was nearing the end of life and so it reassured him Mum would be safe – but even then, I still wish I’d been able to do this for them.
Of course – as my career took off – I was able to repay/spoil/look after my Mum – but while I may still look at that clip with a mixture of emotions, I comfort myself knowing it has nothing really to do with buying your parents a home and everything to do with celebrating a loving, caring family and viewed through that lens … I know my parents knew how grateful I was for all they did and all they were.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Comment, Love, My Childhood, Nottingham
This week has been a week of – of me – serious posts.
So maybe it’s because I can’t keep that up for 5 days straight …
Or because Colenso won ‘Agency Of The Year’ last night in NZ …
Or that today would have been my Mum and Dad’s 61st wedding anniversary …
Or – also today – it is my friend, Heleen’s, birthday …
… but I thought I’d end the post on something else entirely.
When I was growing up in Nottingham, there was a busker affectionately known as ‘Xylophone Man’.
Part of the reason for this name was because he actually played a xylophone. The other part was he played it absolutely terribly. But with unbelievable enthusiasm.
If truth be known, all he did was run his mallet the entire length of the notes and then – at the end – he would flamboyantly raise his hand in the air as if he had just performed a concerto to a stadium of adoring fans. He’d do this over and over again … sometimes up the xylophone, sometimes down … but always with his big, toothless smile on his face.
I’d see him every Saturday in town [AKA, Nottingham City Centre], outside C&A … always playing, always happy, rain or shine.
But what is amazing is he was adored by all.
Rich, humble, famous, infamous, families, teens, drunks …
No one gave him any trouble because everyone was captivated by the enthusiasm and happiness he had for what he did and the sound he made.
His name was Frank, and when he died in 2004, the city got together to honor him … not just paying for his funeral, but also contributing to a plaque to commemorate who he was, what he did and where he did it.
Because what he gave us was far more than some xylophone ‘tunes’.
He gave the people of the city a common connection …
A way for us to step out of our lives and into our community …
A moment to bond, to smile, to laugh, to clap, to cheer. Both at the beauty of life and the absurdity of it.
And I think that’s what Frank liked the most. Being seen for who he was rather than being ignored because of who he wasn’t.
There’s a million different sort of Frank’s in this world.
Some may be in your office.
Some may even be part of your family.
But basically, they’re individuals who are happy with who they are and don’t aspire to be anything more than that.
And the funny thing is, while a lot of society often regard these people as lacking drive, value or ambition, I am increasingly of the opinion they’re the one’s who have got life worked out the best.
Because they appreciate what they have.
They enjoy and value what they do.
And they never waste their time, energy or emotions chasing things that only matter to those who spend too most of their life hiding who they are.
Writing this post, I found an old interview with Frank – and I have to say, he sounds exactly the same way as he played.
Eccentric.
Endearing.
Amusing.
The Frank’s of this world matter.
They remind us of what’s important.
They connect us to where we’re from.
The help define who we are.
At a time where we are surrounded – and as a byproduct, encouraged – to engage in ‘professional bravado’, the Frank’s of this World have, arguably, never been so important.
To remind us experience, trumps popularity.
That fulfillment, beats job titles.
And substance, smokes speed.
And while many may discount or ignore them the Frank’s of this world, it’s worth remembering he got a city commemorating him, whereas most of us are lucky if an ex-collegaue occasionally emails us.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Death, Deutsch, Donn, Family, Fashion, Friendship, Love, Otis
So I’m back and it was, as expected, amazing.
Obviously I have a deep love of Asia, but I have a special place in my heart for Vietnam.
Anyone who knows anything about history will understand the creativity of the place, be that its food, its art, its industry or its ability to find ways to beat every enemy who has tried to invade in the last 1000 years.
So it’s little surprise that Spikes Asia chose to hold their judging for the creative and strategy awards there … which meant I got to see some phenomenal work, some great friends and some awesome tourist stuff.
Oh, and my eye generally held up [but unfortunately not totally, hence trips back to the hospital and meds for a bit longer] but all in all it was a really fucking great week.
But I know there’s nothing worse than hearing someone talk about how great things were for them when you were stuck in the office dealing with shit so to try and win back some errrrrm, favour, let me tell you a little story.
One day – hopefully a long time in the future – my son, Otis, will go to a lawyer to hear the reading of his old mans ‘last will and testament’.
Hopefully, when he hears there’s not much left, he will find this post featuring the latest photograph someone has sent me linked to something I did to/for them a few years back [and let’s be honest, there are a TON of them] thinks, “my Dad was a mischievous sod”, rather than – as I fear – “my Dad went broke buying stupid shit to embarrass/take-the-piss out of people he loved”.
Mind you, given I love every fibre of that kid, its safe to say he will have a lot of stuff to remember me by.
Even if it might be [read: probably is] stuff he’d rather forget.
Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers.
Thank you for giving me a smile Donn … given I bought you that jumper back in 2018, it would suggest 2 things.
1. It may offer me the best ROI of anything I’ve ever bought in my life.
2. You should stay well away from Harper’s softball buddies Dad and his weird internet browsing habits.
Always looking out for you Donn. You special bloody human.
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.