This is the moment (Ioanna’s 15th)

This is the moment, right here, in this picture, that I knew you. I saw it all. Everything you were from that moment to now, I saw play out before me. The light breeze in your hair, the sun behind you, the smile, the earnestness, the warmth, the hope, the beauty and the mischievousness. From a short distance, the far off glance, the challenge ahead, crouching in preparation for great effort, the joy of being resolute, of having made a decision to go forward: as if you were saying, “Look at me, I’m here for now, but I’m getting ready, I’m about to go where I’ve never gone before and I’m ready for it, are you?”

I wasn’t ready for it. I’m still not ready for it. I knew then looking at you everything I know about you now. The same but having moved forward, having moved beyond. Being everything that this picture promised and everything that you were looking at. Everything that was more, that you were already ready for, have always been ready for, will always be ready for. From this picture I knew you and all that you are capable of. I see you today, and every day, as the realization of this picture, a fulfillment of the gleam of that little girl’s eye: afraid but determined, ready even if not quite prepared, open to whatever comes next.

I’ll never be ready for it, but I saw it coming. O what a beautiful sight you continue to be.

a city full of villains

my eyes swing from rooftop to rooftop in a mad dash as if they were chasing a costumed superhero from my father’s youth
and each place they rest is a glass finger scratching the shimmer and glare of a blue sky over a city full of villains

in the age of harassment

in the age of harassment. out on lake norman, morresville, north carolina. after heavy morning downpours the day turned gleeful. bright, sun filled, blue green lake that we barreled through. now, early evening, the heat thickening around my neck and joints. like a hot tub without the water. welcoming but a little dangerous, a little pissed off.
i keep replaying the events from last thursday, the stupid meme i posted and the reaction, the subsequent punishment. the disquieting sense of betrayal. i posted a nsfw meme. the optics: we’ve all gone through harassment training. i’m a manager, etc. was told being terminated was even on the table. not sure if that’s because i flatly asked if that was going to be the case.
but there are other details too. i retracted the email once i sent it. it hit only three people. after a conversation between my managing director, my director and hr, judgement delivered. i was going to call each member of the team and apologize for the email. i was going to retake the training. i was, after coming back from vacation, going to make an apology to the team for the same meme. hr polished it all off with, how i had expressed with him how i found problems with the harassment training and that now perhaps i would take it more seriously.
then right after, a call from the MD: this is me now, your friend. i dont think less of you. this has not affected your career. i would still invite you over my house for dinner. i make the calls of the apology tour. almost everyone doesn’t know what i am talking about because i had retracted the email and they never saw the original. a couple of them started googling to see what i might have sent. i call my direct. he mentions again that termination was on the table. it irks me that it was. or if it wasnt and this was a scare tactic, it bothers me even more. that this was serious. i had to understand my position now. i was a manager, i had to take this seriously. at the end of the day, he texts me, not email, text: it’s over and done with, dont let this ruin your vacation.
and that’s the betrayal i am talking about. i never said i didnt take the training seriously. i’ve had dozens of conversations with HR about the very nature of company culture, how to maintain it as the company grew. how to interview, how to find candidates. and the problems i found with the training was that it was deceptive. it was disingenuous from the onset. there is an exercise at its beginning. choose who others would think most likely fit the description given. note, not YOU, but OTHERS. what followed: most like to be a leader? picture of man, picture of woman. three seconds to chose. most likely to have a drug problem: picture of black man, picture of white woman. you can see where this goes.
and in the end, the conclusion, “you see how our subconscious biases can influence our choices?” smug. how do i see that? my subconscious biases? didnt this exercise start with what i thought OTHERS would choose? what does my awareness of the biases and stereotypes in our society have to do with my thoughts and feelings? isnt the program assuming that i am complicit then? this exercise doesnt demonstrate my biases but rather my awareness of how fucked up the larger culture is.
but the exercise proceeds that i am an accomplice. that i am already guilty and that we need to fix it. and here’s how. in other words, it’s a set up.
and i had said this in the context of the larger conversation we’ve been having. but obviously not. it was repeated during the conference call between my direct, my MD and HR. it was used against me.
and now all i’m thinking about is bailing. all i’m thinking about how, a week and a half AFTER my apology tour, i have to make one final act of contrition. i have to bring it all up again and apologize for the meme during our team meeting. all i’m thinking about is the times i’ve been cursed at. all i’m thinking about is the teasing and mockery i’ve received and how i laughed it off. because i am not stupid. because i am very fucking aware of power dynamics and how the very bullying that the training covered to avoid is being enacted right here. what a joke.
p.s. in the second round of training, i was given what i am assuming was the harder california version, which included people in transition. it also included an exercise where the choices i was given were impossible to chose from. they were all sarcastic or rude. the training was 2hrs. i finished it in 48 minutes with a score of 100. fuck them.

why do you have to drink like that

she asks, Why do you have to drink like that?
eh, bc i hurt. bc i am a disappointment. it’s rare that i drink. it’s not even once a week, it’s like once a month. i dont know what to tell you. i’m still angry. this life is leaving me. i’ve accomplished nothing that i ever wanted to. i am not a writer. i am not a fantastic husband. i am a bumbling father. you said it yourself: what have i done to make our kids extraordinary? nothing. bc i am not extraordinary. and i wanted to be. i wanted to be so much. i wanted to do so much. and i’m not talking fame. i’m not talking money. it’s like when you write a sentence: the first word is impossible. Where to begin? Infinite possibilities, so many to choose from. But then you choose one. Half of the possibilities are gone. You start with one word and you cannot start again. You choose one word to begin with and the next word cannot be so many others. And with each word of this life sentence, your options become fewer and fewer. Each choice limits what can come next. Until everything is exhausted. Until you get to the end. Full stop.

The Long Goodbye (for Michael Regan)

I hate goodbyes. Especially workplace goodbyes. They’re too long, too sappy and tired. They’re an excuse for people to eat free food and get their buzz on.
What’s even worse, you’re not really leaving the company. You’re not moving on into a higher paying position or being snapped up by a competitor. You’re relocating for Christ’s sake. Instead of this side of the Atlantic, you’re going to be on the other side: all that much closer to the origin of the sweetest nectar God has given man.
We’re just going to see you less. So what?
So I won’t say goodbye to you Michael Regan. It’s superfluous and unnecessary. I barely knew you anyway. A kid from Garden City that I took the train with a couple of times. Left Abacus for a while and ended up coming back because he got bored. Or the other thing didn’t work out. He didn’t like the other job. Or the other job didn’t like him. Whatever.
But I will say this: you’ve changed man. You went from six foot plus floundering goof ball yakking it up in the build room to competent semiprofessional professional. Still yakking it up in the build room. Still six foot plus, but with a goofy beard now. Sort of. Oh, you started coming to my side of the office more often too. Before, you did it because there was “footy” on the TV. Or you wanted to drop up some bad news about a client. Now you’ve started wandering in just to bullshit. That’s some stones man.
No more of that. Thank God.
I will say this however: I’m glad you came back to Abacus. I’m glad that you came back if only to leave again, if only to be that much closer to those fountains of Scotch that I dream about. If only to bring the same sense of semiprofessional professionalism to the UK. With the same goofy smile. And beard. Sort of a beard.
But yeah, I’ll miss you.
So what.

Happy Holidays (Abacus)

With the ins and outs of commuting and work and deadlines; our ECI migrations and Trader Tools dilemmas, it’s hard to be jolly. As we get older, the magic of Christmas wanes. For some of us, we’re lucky enough to reignite that spark vicariously through our children. For others, I’m just coming off like a loon: Christmas is practically every day for you.
You get my point.
But for me, it’s all about the tree. Getting it, lighting it, putting stuff on it and when the kids fall asleep, cramming stuff under it. It’s about them dragging us out of bed the next morning. It’s about sharing a glance with my wife as these sweet children turn into vicious monsters tearing through the piles. It’s about knowing there’s a dozen moments like this already behind us and hopefully dozens upon dozens more in the years ahead.
I hope something similar happens in your homes this weekend. I hope it’s filled with awe and peace and a kind of happiness that only a child really knows.
Happy Holidays.

Father’s 60th

Birthday’s change over time, don’t they? As very young children, we don’t get it. People standing around us, balloons, clapping, everyone’s staring. This cake that’s on fire. No, not fire, candles. And we blow, we’re supposed to blow them out.
Then we start to get it. We get presents, we see cousins we haven’t seen in months. Maybe our birthday is close to our brothers. We start to share the parties. Maybe it annoys us, but most likely it doesn’t matter. There’s this cake and the whole candle thing. Easier to blow them out with our brothers. Maybe we just let them do all the work and still get the same amount of presents.
As time goes by it becomes less of a family thing and more being with our friends thing. Maybe we start a night with our friends and end it in the company of someone beautiful. Maybe we laugh and tease our brothers, maybe we go out for a long drive and say goodbye to summer since our birthday comes so close to its end.
And it goes on like this for many years, the faces change, our face changes. It gets to the point where maybe there have been too many birthdays and they wash themselves out. It’s just another day. Maybe it’s a day we really don’t want to think about anymore because there have been so many and we don’t want to count.
But today, today there’s children all over again. And they’re hugging us like it’s their birthday instead of ours. And they’re seeing aunts and uncles and cousins they haven’t seen in awhile. And they’re teasing them just like we used to our brothers and sister and cousins. And maybe, just maybe we’ll let them help us blow out those candles.
On one condition: we keep all the presents.

Mother’s Day

My Dearest,

Things have not gotten easier. I promised that they would but the ebb and flow of life and work tug and push me around like flotsam in a storm. If I claim to be the rock of this family, it is only to be clung to in times of severe weather: else you are smashed.

You however are the shore. You however are the land in which we can find peace and lush forests in which to live. You are the beauty that life brings and the bounty that safe harbor promises.

How I wish to always be on your shores.

what have I done with

What have I done with my life. Burning through it. Harder than ever before. Is it passion? Is it escapism? Am I avoiding all the things I’ve built up in the last years? To go from ever present, ever caring father, to exhausted and diligent company man? I think of it and feel nothing, only the drive to push harder. It gives me perspective. No that’s not quite right. It gives me value? Sure but to whom? Turning 45 this year. Halfway mark at best. This life lived so far, has it been very long? At 12 it seemed like forever. The last 12 have seemed like a blip. My father warns me on the one hand, don’t work so hard, you don’t want to miss out. A month later he scolds me for not answering his texts within 15 minutes.

out of nothing something comes