Filed under: America, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, Childhood, China, Comment, Culture, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Environment, Family, Home, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Respect, School
3 different nationalities.
4 different countries [In 4 different continents]
5 different homes.
4 different schools.
Two major long lockdowns.
All of this in just 6 – but soon to be 7 – short years.
And yet despite all that change … all that waving goodbye and learning to say new hellos … he remains a happy, curious, cheeky and compassionate kid.
And while he loved his life in China, America and the UK … he is blossoming in NZ.
Sure, some of that is because he has been able to get back into some sort of routine, meet new friends and play with other kids his own age – at least until Delta struck and he got locked down with his parents for weeks on end – but it’s more than that …
Outdoor life is a way of life here.
Being outside is no longer a conscious choice.
The line between indoors and outdoors is now very slim.
No need to change clothes. No need to wear shoes. Spontaneity is allowed to flow which – let’s be honest – is exactly how a kid should be able to live their life.
I’ve lived in similar environments before … in Australia and America for example … but whether it’s because I’m older or now live in a bloody treehouse or have a kid of my own, I appreciate it so much more.
Watching him be able to run around outside is a real privilege.
Of course, for people born here, that’s a normality … but I have lived in environments where that’s not the case, which is why even seeing him watch his iPad in the sun is something I don’t take for granted.
We cannot discount the importance of being able to play outside, but sadly many governments and councils seem to.
Viewing it as ‘a favour’ rather than a fundamental right.
Playing outside helps kids in so many ways.
Bond … learn … imagine … express … play … explore … compete … respect.
It’s not a ‘waste of time’, it creates a deeper foundation for life.
An ability to think outside of lines and others definitions.
Giving kids an environments where they can be outside is basically an investment in a countries future.
A nation of curious, interested, healthy people.
But not everyone gets this.
Some actively try to stop this.
Often people of immense privilege who either associate outdoor life as something for either the elite or the rough.
Fortunately NZ does not see it this way.
They revel and celebrate it.
They have the best parks I’ve ever seen in my life.
Parks made to enjoy and encourage kids to push their boundaries.
A new discovery of what you’re capable of with every visit.
And while for most kids it’s about developing, for Otis it’s also about grounding.
A place he can feel is his.
A connection to where he lives in a way he’s not had before.
Because while he is young, I do not underestimate what he has been through.
Fuck, there’s people I have worked with who have literally freaked out when asked to move office desks … and yet here’s my kid, who has moved countries, homes and friends and still embraces the possibilities of every situation.
So much of that is down to his brilliant Mum who has helped that change happen in the most comfortable, seamless way … but it still requires a mindset to look at what you’ll gain rather than just what you lose.
And while I know one day I’ll no doubt be dragging him off for another adventure somewhere else on the planet [but don’t worry, it won’t be for ages. Probably] I want you to know that I love you from tip to toe and let you know I’m so, so proud to be your dad.
Thank you Otis, you’re a little legend.
Filed under: Australia, Birthday, China, Comment, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Hong Kong, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Singapore
Today would be my Mum’s 89th birthday.
EIGHTY NINE.
My god, that would have been something to celebrate.
I sometimes wonder if we’d have come to NZ if my Mum was still alive.
There’s a chance we would, but it would have been much harder to go, especially with COVID.
I just don’t know how I’d have been able to leave, given all she would have had to deal with in the last 18 months.
There were days – when we were in the UK – where I found myself being relieved she wasn’t here to experience the horror of COVID.
That’s incredibly hard for me to admit, but the idea of my dear Mum being on own and suffering ill health, without me – or anyone – being able to be near to protect, reassure or support her for over a year, literally ignites my anxiety.
Of course, millions of people had to go through just that, which is why I have nothing but admiration and compassion for all they went through. To not be able to see your family is unbelievably painful. To worry that if you do, you may kill them, is a burden that no one should have to deal with.
But if we were here in NZ … and if Mum was still alive … then today would be a day where not being with her would be one of the most painful of them all.
It certainly wouldn’t be for lack of trying, but the reality is if I did find a way to get back to the UK, then there would be no guarantee of when NZ would let me back in the country due to the quarantine situation.
I would feel torn in two.
And I know this because it almost happened in 2014.
Mum was going to have a major heart operation at around the same time Otis was due.
As in literally, a cross-over of time.
The idea I would have to decide whether to be at my son’s birth in China or be at my Mum’s side in England was something I was genuinely terrified of.
Fortunately, I found myself in England about 5 months before Mum’s operation and accompanied her to a meeting with her surgeon.
There she explaining the situation to him to which he said he felt Mum could wait another 3 or 4 months for the operation so she could be in ‘tip-top form’ to meet her grandson.
I am so grateful to him.
Not just for removing an obstacle that no one should have to deal with, but because it gave me 4 more months with my Mum – months that she got to see her grandson via Facetime – because sadly, she died of complications when she ended up having the op.
And as sad as that is, I smile at the thought of being with her today.
Not only can I imagine how it would go, I can even hear her voice.
She’d be saying how she can’t believe she’s 89.
She’d gently brush off my excited, “and next year you hit the big 90”, with a calm explanation that, “you never know what may happen in the future”.
My god I miss her voice.
Her kind, compassionate, warm, curious voice.
How I would love to hear her asking questions about Otis, Jill and Rosie the cat.
I remember the times I flew home to surprise her from Australia or Singapore or HK or China.
I’d knock on the door and then I’d hear her walking towards it – asking “who is it?” before she saw me.
She would look for a second in shock. Amazed her son … her beloved only child … was standing in front of her.
And she would say, “Oh Robert” before giving me a huge hug and then telling she was so surprised and happy.
Then before I knew it, she’d be asking if I’d eaten and say she had to make the bed up for me as there’s no sheets on it … hahaha.
Oh Mum, I wish I could be with you to celebrate.
I wish that day in March 2015 had turned out so differently.
But as I wrote over that week, at least everything had reached some beautiful finale … though you never got to see the new heating Angelo had put in for you, ha.
Mind you, with energy prices so high in the UK at the moment, you’d likely say, “I’ll just put on an extra jumper”.
Oh how I miss you Mum.
You were the best.
I hope Dad is looking after you.
Thank you for everything and happy, happy birthday.
The countdown to 90 now begins.
Love you.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Corona Virus, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, London, Love, Otis
I found this photo recently.
It’s a few years old, when we lived in London … but there’s something about it that just warms my heart.
Not just because it features my son – though that helps – but because it in a period of pandemic chaos, it shows how love can make everything OK.
Covid had just taken hold.
We were all confined to home.
No one was offering any clarity.
People were dying at unprecedented numbers.
And Otis desperately needed his hair washing.
However …
… he was also playing a video game he absolutely didn’t want to stop playing so – because his world had been turned completely upside down – his wonderful, kind, considerate Mum found a way for him to keep playing while she could do some hair washing.
Obviously it is an utterly ridiculous way to do things, but it’s my ridiculous.
A moment of twisted normality at a time where nothing felt normal whatsoever.
And while I appreciate this is an utterly indulgent photograph, I love the way he seems oblivious to his surroundings. His little legs stretched out to the tip of his toes. And a kitchen that has been rapidly turned into a school, a playroom and a hairdressers all at the same time.
While we were painfully aware of the privileged position we were in – from having an income to having a teeny garden to escape in – the fear of COVID was starting to take a hold which is why, as I look at that photo today, I realise how much my ridiculously beautifully family let me feel we were strong together at a point where everything was feeling like it was falling apart.
Filed under: America, China, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
In many ways, this was a big year for Otis.
While he had moved from Shanghai to Los Angeles, he was so young that he probably didn’t take it all in.
But by the time we left Los Angeles for London, he had made some deep connections.
His friend Jack.
His love Elodie.
His school mates and adventurous life in the sun.
And yet he took it all in his stride.
Sad to say goodbye, but happy to explore somewhere new, boosted by the fact he would get to see his ‘Oddparents’ – Paul and Shelly – a lot more often.
And within days, he was a Londoner.
Sure he had a strange American accent.
Sure he kept talk about dollars rather than pounds.
But for all the upheaval he was going through, he embraced it all.
New home.
New school.
New friends.
New way of living.
It was here he started to identify what he loved.
We wanted him to experience a range of things so he could discover what he liked.
And while he liked being a ‘ninja’, he didn’t want to do martial arts.
And while he enjoyed watching football with his dad, he didn’t like organised sport.
Instead he loved acting.
LOVED IT.
Watching him practice his lines was a bloody delight … the focus, the commitment.
And while he would get a bit shy at the point of performance, you could see how much his whole being lit up when he was doing it.
I have no idea if he will continue to love acting or performance.
Right now, he’s into video games in a big way.
But whatever path he chooses in the future … as much as I don’t want him to have a life of struggle, the thing I want most for him is fulfilment.
Not comfort.
Not content.
But fulfilment … as my parents always drilled into me.
To be honest, I didn’t really understood the difference between fulfilment and contentment till I was in my 30’s. But now I realise it has a totally different imputes when you go from the ‘receiver’ of that intent to the ‘giver’.
I hope I can help Otis understand it.
But more than that, I hope I can witness Otis embracing it.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Brand, Comment, Confidence, Context, Craft, Creativity, Culture, Cunning, Devious Strategy, Distinction, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Family, Love, Loyalty, Membership, Perspective, Relationships, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
Like most things in life, there tends to be 2 sorts of people.
Those who chase the cash.
Those who chase their passion.
Or said another way, the business folks and the creative folks.
But one thing I’ve learned from working with a number of highly successful bands over the last few years is this.
Those who chase cash can be hugely financially successful, but they’ll never achieve the level of creative respect those who chase their passion will receive.
Now you may go, “who cares, they’re rich”.
But here’s the thing …
People who chase their passion can end up being even more financially successful than those who simply chase the cash.
Sure, it doesn’t happen often, but it also happens more than you may imagine. And when it does, that’s when things get really interesting.
I’m working on a project for a band [not Metallica] that is – quite simply – bonkers.
Not just bonkers in terms of what they want to do, but why they want to do it.
And why do they want to do it?
Because they their die-hard fans to be properly rewarded for their die-hard loyalty.
I don’t mean that in terms of getting early access to something they have to pay for – which is the way many companies think loyalty works. I mean rewarding them with something that has real – and long term – economic and emotional value to them.
Obviously I can’t go into specifics … both for the fact I’d be murdered and there’s still a fuck-ton of hurdles to be dealt if we stand any chance of pulling this off … but what I’ve loved seeing is how artists who have built their fortune as a byproduct of their passion [rather than just a focus on the cash] seem to reach a point where they kinda turn into a musical version of Robin Hood.
I should point out this does not mean they suddenly start doing things for free.
Nor do I mean they start giving all their money away.
There may do some of that but by then, they’ve finally learnt the value of their value.
No, what I mean is they put a lot of effort into ensuring their long-term fans feel the respect the artist has for them and all they’ve done for them … and one way they are increasingly doing this is by finding ways to ‘steal’ from the rich, so they can reward the loyal.
Case in point.
Billy Joel.
In 2014 he started a residency at Madison Square Gardens and vowed to keep playing there once a month until his concerts stop selling out.
Well, he’s still playing … and given he allegedly makes US$3-4 million per show, it’s proven to be an incredible relationship.
But this is where it gets fun …
You see Billy Joel no longer allows the first row of the venue to have people sitting in it.
There are 2 main reasons for this.
1. It stops scalpers from making huge money off him.
2. He hated looking down and seeing rich people looking back at him. Not really into the evening, just there because they could afford the seats and could brag about it to their friends.
So instead, every time he plays, he gets his crew to find fans who are sitting in the worst seats in the venue and gets them to bring them down and give them the best seats in the front row. People who are really happy to be there – not for the bragging rights – but for the chance to get the best view of an artists they love, singing the songs they adore.
In essence, he uses the wealth of the uber-rich to pay for the seats for the real fans.
Giving them the night of their life and letting Billy show that money can buy lots of things, but it can’t buy the respect he has for his true fans.
Now before anyone slags this post … or Billy off.
While I appreciate what he’s doing is not perfect … it’s more considerate, respectful and loyal than 95% of companies who talk a great game in terms of their customers/employees being their greatest asset right until the point it actually might result in costing them more than they want to spend.
Which is why I’d rather be loyal to a kinda musical version of Robin Hood than a smiling snake.
And before I go, I just want to leave you with my favourite little film about Metallica.
Unlike the Billy Joel story, this is not about repaying fan loyalty – at least not in the way I’ve just described how Billy Joel has. This is more about the sentimentality the band has for people and places that they believe has had a significant impact on the life of the band.
I’ve written about this before, but whereas that was about their ongoing relationship with Cliff Burton’s father … this is about one of James’ guitars.
That might not sound enticing, but I assure you it is.
Because while this film talks about where this guitar came from … what it represents and how it was crafted to have even greater meaning and significance to James and the band … it’s really a story of loyalty, legacy and love.
Enjoy. They’ve come a loooooooong way since Some Kind Of Monster, ha.