Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Content, Context, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Parents
When Mum died, I inherited the family home.
Despite having not lived there for 20 years, it was still very important place to me.
Not just because Mum left it to me.
Not because my Mum still lived there.
But because it’s where I lived for all of my life – until I moved to Australia – and so the memories in those 4 walls were full of everything important to me from my first 25 years of life.
I have to be honest, the first reaction I had was to hire a security guard and keep things exactly as they were because the thought of selling it was just not going to happen.
Slowly I came round to the idea that a security guard was a bit extreme so I started – slowly – thinking about renting it out.
The thing was, when we had estate agents come check it out, they highlighted that having not been renovated for over 40 years, it needed some major work.
This was really hard for me because by saying it needed renovating, I heard it as ‘the house is not good enough’ … which I then interpreted as ‘the house my Mum loved and lived in, wasn’t good enough for others’.
Of course that’s not what they meant, but my emotions – and need to protect my Mum’s legacy – were very high at that point..
And if that was challenging for me, it got even harder when it got to clearing the house.
We spent a couple of weeks going through photos and possessions so we could identify everything we wanted to give to charity.
While Mum didn’t have expensive things, there were some lovely items which is why the worst thing – almost as bad as losing my Mum – was when I saw the charity people come by with bins and throw everything into them … no care, no consideration, no nothing.
And when I heard them literally smash my Mum and Dad’s wardrobes to smithereens – the things that had held their cliothes for 40 years – I had to leave the house as it was all too much.
But out of this darkness came an idea … an idea that I felt would honour my Mum in terms of the life she lived and the values she believed in.
We found a fantastic set of builders and had the house refurbished from top to bottom.
Removed all the wallpaper.
Plastering all the walls.
New paint everywhere.
New Kitchen.
New Bathroom.
New flooring.
New carpets.
New front door.
Some structural change in the house.
At the end, it was basically a new house and yet with the warmth and love of the old, as exemplified by this note that I wrote in the garage …
But that was only part of paying homage to Mum…
The next step was to find a young family who would love to live there, but couldn’t afford it.
You see our plan was to subsidize the rent – and maintain the gardens my parents loved so much – so a young family would have a chance to raise their kids in the beautiful environment my family gave me.
Of course, when my family bought the house – back in 1970 – the area was very different to what it is today, but zoom forward 40 years and it’s seen as very desirable. Not because it’s posh, but because it’s safe, has a strong community and great schools for all.
To this day, I’m so grateful my Mum and Dad were able to find £100 more than the other buyer or who knows where I would have ended up.
Anyway, by pure chance, we found a family who were sort-of connected to someone Mum once worked with. That was perfect, as it felt even more connected to her.
But what was even better was the mother of this family was Italian, like my Mum.
For the past 4 years we have had this arrangement and everyone has been happy.
But now it is time for a bit of a change.
Not because I want to become a bastard landlord, but because I’m now living in the UK and things are different.
You see part of the reason I wanted to keep the house – apart from the obvious – was that it gave me roots here. It meant I was still connected to where I grew up. That I mattered.
It’s kind-of similar to why we bought a bench for Otis at his school in LA.
Having spent the last 24 years out of England, the house represented a connection to my heritage and that was important.
But now I’m back … and while I don’t know how long for, I see it in terms of long-term rather than short.
On the day before Mum died, she told me she was sorry she wasn’t going to be able to leave me much.
I told her not to think like that and reminded her the love she and Dad gave me made me rich beyond my dreams.
But on top of that, I reminded her she was generously going to leave me her house … a house in a wonderful area … so she could relax knowing she had given her son more than he could ever have imagined.
And that’s why I am ready to let the house go.
Not – as you may think – because I am ready to move forward.
The truth is, I will always miss her and want her in my life.
The reason is because I see a way to use the house to reinforce the role my parents had – and have – in my life.
You see the one thing my parents would have loved to do is help me have a home of my own.
While I have been incredibly fortunate to do this without their assistance, I know that their dream would have been to contribute to that.
Of course they did with the love and support they gave me in life, but to them, providing some cash to do it would have made them feel so happy.
So that’s what they are going to do.
While we are happy in London, the truth is my wife and son need to be surrounded by nature.
Nothing reinforced this than our trip to the farm recently.
So we want to find a home a bit outside of London.
A home Otis can truly settle in.
A home that is our home.
Of course we don’t want to unsettle the tenants and will do all I can to help them – as well as give them as much time as they need to work out what’s next – but selling the house allows us to use that money to help my parents fulfill their dream.
We are incredibly fortunate to be in this position.
We are incredibly grateful to be in this position.
But the idea to have a place that is – for want of a better phrase – our forever home, is hugely enticing.
It will let us put down roots.
Connect to the community in ways we have never done previously.
Build rather than live.
This might sound dramatic and I am not saying we have had it tough in any of the other places we’ve lived or houses we’ve had … but we have also never been in a place where we saw ourselves for the long-term.
Because of that, we have always been looking to what’s next rather than maybe enjoying the moment as much as we could or should.
Of course this isn’t going to happen overnight, but to come to this point of decision represents a landmark for my family and for my grief which is why I am so happy to be home and so happy to look forwards with more security, regardless what the future may bring.
Given my birthday is tomorrow, that’s possibly the best present anyone could have.
Outside of my Mum and Dad and my best friend Paul, Auntie Silvana has been involved my life the longest.
From my earliest age, I remember her always being there – whether that was arguing with my dad about politics or showing us around London on one of our frequent trips to visit her.
Despite facing many challenges in her life, Auntie Silvana – like her sister – was a fiercely independent woman. She never wanted to rely on someone else for help which is why she could be incredibly stubborn if she disagreed with something someone was trying to make her do. But when I think of her, the memories that flood my mind are of an incredibly kind, incredibly considerate, humble yet generous person.
She only ever wanted the best for others. She would encourage you every step of the way. And when you achieved something – however small – she would celebrate it with genuine happiness and celebration … never wanting or expecting anything in return.
There are so many things I am thankful to Auntie Silvana for. From giving me my first ever television to taking me to my first theatre show to helping my family when we needed it most.
She was a wonderful, kind, worldly and cultured lady and while I am devastated she has gone, there are 3 things I am grateful for.
1. She was able to continue living an independent life till the end. Given her eye problems, that’s testimony to her tenactity.
2. I am able to be here to let her know how much I loved her and how much my wife, Jill and my 4 year old little boy – Otis (who called her ‘Auntie Nana’) – did as well. I will forever be grateful she got to hold my son given my Mum sadly passed away before she could meet him in real life.
3. I am able to repesent my Mum and Dad – who are no longer here but would absolutely want to be if they were around – so they could share their love for her and say thank you for all you did.
Silvana, you were an amazing Auntie to me.
An amazing sister to my Mum.
And an amazing friend to my Dad.
Words will never be able to capture how much I thought of you and while the pain of your loss will last a long, long time … the memory of you will last far longer.
The World is a little less kind for your loss.
I’m happy you can be reunited with your family.
Say hi to Mum for me and thank you for everything.
Tanti Baci.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, America, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Cynic, Dad, Daddyhood, Deutsch, Differentiation, Emotion, Empathy, End of Year, England, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Goodbye America, Goodbye China, Grand announcements, Happiness, Hello America, Holiday, Home, Innocence, Insight, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Love, Martin Weigel, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Paul, Planners, Planning, R/GA, Relationships, Rosie, Sentimentality, WeigelCampbell, Wieden+Kennedy
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So this is the final post of the year.
It’s been a big year for me and the family.
Then again, it was a big year for the family last year too.
However, whereas 2017 saw us leave Shanghai and Wieden+Kennedy – something that was truly emotional for all of us – 2018 has seen us go from sunny LA, working at Deutsch, living in a house by the beach and driving a custom made Audi to being citizens of cold and rainy London, living in a much smaller house in Fulham, working at R/GA [with some sprinkles of Metallica madness in-between] and traveling by tube to and from everywhere.
And we haven’t been this happy in ages.
Don’t get me wrong, there are things we definitely miss from our life in the US – people, the weather, Otis’ school, free soda refills and bacon mainly – but this move was right for us for a whole host of reasons, personal and professional, and we enter 2019 with the full expectation we’ll still be here when 2020 comes around.
I hope.
It’s funny, when I read the final post I wrote for last year, it is apparent that change was in our minds. We didn’t think that openly, but it seems it was there.
Of course, moving to a country and then leaving in just over a year is not the best thing.
It’s financial stupidity for one.
But these things happen and we are very happy for the amazing experience, though I must admit I’m even happier my wife, son and cat are still talking to me.
Fools.
But while our environment has changed, some things have stayed exactly the same.
Your ability to trash everything I write on here, for one.
And to you all, I say a huge thank you.
Sure, being told I’m a bad dressing, musically ignorant, gadget tosser every-single-day can get a bit tiring, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because amongst the insults, there’s often pearls of gold in there.
Stuff that makes me think about things a different way.
Stuff that influences how I think about things I never thought about.
Stuff that just keeps me on my toes and interested about stuff.
And I love it.
I love that people come here and share a bit of their time and opinion with me.
Yes, I appreciate moving to the UK and still posting at 6am is screwing up the flow of the comments given the East Coast of America is asleep and can’t insult/join-in until much later … but the fact so many people still write makes me feel very fortunate.
While I have loved the ability to move countries and cultures so many times – and hope to continue doing it, just not for a bit – the reality is that is makes your friendship network difficult.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very fortunate we have technology to keep me in touch with the wonderful people I’ve met in every country we’ve lived [whether they like it or not] and this year I got to catch up with people I’ve not seen in years – from Freddie to Paula – but there is something about having a level of constancy that makes you feel settled.
Bizarrely, this blog has provided me with a bit of that.
Even with people I have still yet to meet.
[Though I met Marcus and Neil Perkin this year and that made me so happy]
While I would never suggest I am your friend, you have been to me – in many ways and at many times, both at moments of darkness and happiness – and I want to take this opportunity to say thank you.
To all of you.
Even you Andy.
When I started this blog way back in May 2006, I never expected anyone to read it, let alone comment so the fact some of you still are – regardless that many Police officers would call it abuse – I’m grateful.
I’m excited about next year.
It will be big.
Not because we’ll be moving … or I’ll changing job … but new things will be entering my life.
From my beloved Otis starting proper school – which literally is screwing with my head – to the much-talked-about-but-not-much-actually-done Weigel/Campbell officially doing its thing in addition to the exciting adventures and exploits my wonderfully beautiful family, my bloody amazing friends and fantastic new planning team will get up to that will make me feel even luckier than I do already.
Being back in England has had a much bigger effect on me than I ever imagined it would.
I am grateful for it.
I am grateful for all I have.
I hope this holiday season and 2019 is one that is wonderful for you all too.
See you in a few weeks. [Yeah, don’t think you get so lucky to not have me come back]
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Confidence, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Education, England, Family, Happiness, Innocence, Insight, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents, Relevance, Resonance, Standards, Unexpected Relevance
As I’ve written before, I didn’t go to University. I knew pretty early on that I didn’t want to continue my formal education.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t/don’t like to learn, it just means I find it far more powerful when it’s not in an academic environment.
I still remember telling my parents my decision and being slightly scared.
They desperately wanted me to go so I was worried they would see this as a slight on them – which is absolutely not what it was meant to be.
They asked for my reasons and when I told them, they said that they would support my decision as long as I applied in case I changed my mind.
So I did.
And I got accepted.
But I was still sure not going was the right thing for me, so my parents – while obviously disappointed – supported my decision and never brought it up again.
Looking back now, I feel that must have been very hard for them.
At that point, going to university was the fast track to a career and yet – as another act of their love and confidence in me – they pushed me to follow the things that genuinely interested and excited me and hoped it would all work out.
I’d say it did.
But now I’m a dad and while Otis is only 3, the thought of education looms large.
Would I do the same thing as him?
Of course I want to help equip my son in the best way possible for the life he wants to lead and one of those ways is to provide him with a good education. But the fact is I’m vehemently opposed to private education and while general access schools can be very good, the reality is private tends to offer better opportunities simply because of the funding and the facilities … which leads to an interesting conflict.
What’s best for my son versus what’s true to me?
Given Otis is so young right now, the decision will ultimately be mine and his Mum’s, but once he’s older, what do I do if he chooses a path I feel is not in his best interests.
Sure, it worked out for me, but the World was different back then and then I saw the ‘god’ instagram above – a sentiment that was absolutely reinforced by our recent America In The Raw research – and realised that by the time he has to make some choices, he will be far more aware of what he needs to do to increase his odds of success than his Mum or me.
But then I realised something else …
It’s not just about acknowledging their view of their World will be better than yours, it’s also backing your parenting.
When my Mum and Dad supported my decision, they were ultimately supporting how they raised me.
They believed the values and smarts they’d instilled in me were the right ones to enable me to make the right choices … and while I know they would have been there if it all fell down, that sense of confidence and belief probably enabled me to go to places I might otherwise not have done. Places I might not otherwise have felt I deserved to be.
And that’s why backing your team is everything.
Of course you have to instill values and standards into them, but once that’s done, you have to back them including what they think is right – even if you don’t – because if that doesn’t happen, you’re literally stopping their potential rather than liberating it.
Thank you Mum and Dad. Again.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Birthday, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis
Happy birthday Dad.
Oh how I wish you were around …
You’d be 81.
EIGHTY ONE!
I’m not sure what is more amazing … that or the fact it means you’ve been gone 21 years.
We would have had such a lovely day.
Now we are in England, we would have come down for the weekend and spent a few days there – organizing stuff, from a cake to a present.
Oh the present would be hard.
I’d want to get you something you have always wanted but could never get, let alone justify.
In a perfect world it would be an old Rolls Royce … in yellow … with white wall wheels.
I can see you now driving to Asda in it, laughing at the beautiful ridiculousness of it all.
God I’d love to have got you that … though I imagine that attitude would change quite quickly once I see how much the bloody thing cost to keep on the road.
But I’d still try and do it for you.
What you and Mum sacrificed for me will never be forgotten … will never be taken for granted.
I would do anything to be able to sit with you and talk about the choices and decisions I’ve made.
To see the corners of your beautiful blue eyes turn up with happiness knowing I am now ‘back home’.
I would love to give you a huge, huge hug and a big kiss on the cheek as I say “Hello Dad” … even though I know you would brush me aside so you could say hello to Jill and then your wonderful grandson.
Oh I wish you could have met them, you’d have absolutely loved them.
I can hear you asking them cheeky questions – at my expense.
The mischievous grin.
The dimple.
The tongue curling up on your top teeth to signify you know you have been a rascal.
For Mum to walk in and give you that look of loving exasperation as she says, “Oh Roger”.
There is almost nothing I would love more than to be with you today, though I suppose while I am not able to be physically with you, I am emotionally which leaves me with this.
I love you Dad.
I miss you so much.
A few weeks ago we went to visit Silvana’s flat in Bayswater and I started crying IN THE STREET.
OK, so I hadn’t been there for around 28 years, so seeing a place that contains so many memories of us being together really knocked me for six.
But in a lovely way.
I could see where you used to park … I could see us running up the steps to press the buzzer to be let in. I even went up and touched the front door because I knew you and Mum had done that and weirdly, it made me feel close to you.
I wish you were on the other side of that door.
I wish you were still here.
Happy birthday my wonderful Dad. Give Mum a hug from me.