Change Is Inevitable

I think Mother Nature must be going through menopause.

Hot flashes one day, cold flashes the next; and the gusty winds and thunderstorms.

But this morning the air is still and the sky is blue. And the sun light is bright with a slight tint of orangey yellow.

And it's chilly.

The dew that dropped out of the sky has coated everything on the ground with a thick coat of wet.

Even though I pulled out my heavy black woolen sweater from the closet that stores winter coats, I'm still chilled by the slight breeze as I sit on the back deck by the still waters of the swimming pool.

I guess it's time to consider that summer is over and fall is starting.

It's time to close this swimming pool down. It's time to give it one final vacuum, empty the water to the half-way point, poor in the winter doses of chemicals, and put the black tarp on.

But not yet, at least not today.

We still have ball practices to attend, and the Major Leagues still have two weeks of the regular season left. But then, ball always starts before the pool opens and ends long after the pool is closed.

Many have told me that they feel ripped off by the summer we had this year. Too cool, too wet they all say. But I disagree.

This has been a fantastic summer.

There's a humming bird hovering next to a bush of blue flowers in the garden, sipping the dewy nectar that lies on the tiny petals, oblivious to the fact that it's forty seven degrees outside. But he is in the sunshine while I sit here in the shade.

I wonder if he thinks the summer was too short.

Maybe.

The trees don't think so. For all the maples that I see in my surroundings, only one has leaves starting to turn orange and red. And he always starts early, as though in a rush to be first. The first with leaves in spring, and the first to change colors and fall in autumn.

The impatient one, while the rest still stand high and sturdy with lush green leaves in no hurry to see the season end.

It is still summer you know.

My eldest daughter Alannah has ball practice shortly at noon. Still a practice / tryout of sorts for a new team with another club called the Wildcats, having been cut from the next age group up at the Turtle Club. The experience left me questioning the concept of loyalty – and how do I convince her to hold the value true when the club she was so loyal too was not loyal back to her in return.

But you have to earn your spot to make the team. And this year the competition came from every nook and cranny of our peninsula of a county nested between the great lakes St. Claire and Erie. I watched most every moment of those practices, and I thought Alannah did terrific.

But I must have misjudged her competition.

Last year, my youngest Ashley-Rae missed the cut to play on the same team Alannah did. She spent the summer watching from the side with me, and together we went through house league and all stars. And together we had a ball. Now this year, she made the team that Alannah grew too old to play for anymore. She won her spot in convincing fashion. And so as a family we now get to remain with the other families who will still travel together next year from tournament to tournament, while we make new friends on the new team that Alannah seems certain to earn a spot on. Families from a different club who may not hold the Turtle Club in as high esteem as we do, out of loyalty.

Next year we will be both inside – and on the outside looking in. On both sides of the window.

Alannah's new team does look like it will be very strong though. I haven't seen a single weak player on the team. And two of her old team mates from Turtle Club will be there to, both Lilly and Rachael suffered the same breakdown in what they presumed to be a two-way commitment.

I'm very proud of my two girls – both equally – as they grow up with fast pitch softball as one of their anchor points in their development into young ladies. In fact I am very proud of all the girls I have had the pleasure to manage and coach this year – and those that I simply rooted for on Alannah's team.

There isn't a bad apple in the whole group.

And so, with Ashley's experience of being cut behind her, and now Alannah, the older sister, just learning the experience now – and moving on with a maturity that inspires me, I reconsider my position and understand that relationships, be them with people or with organizations, are more often than not fleeting. They are ever-changing, growing like the huge maples that grow around my yard.

And some change colors early, while others stay green as long as they can.

It's been a fantastic summer for me and my family. Travelling to play ball and watching them step up to each challenge and conquer their own self-doubts. Both Alannah and Ashley-Rae grew up a good bit this year in the most positive ways any father could ask for.

And now they are confident in their own abilities and in each other's as well. They know how to face obstacles, how to meet challenges, and how to succeed.

It's been a fantastic summer.

Tsunami of Inevitable Change

I don’t think it’s any secret that I am a fan of how the Internet connects us all around the world.

The power of what we once called the World Wide Web has been made even more evident to me over the last few weeks.

Tonight I have spent a great deal of time watching the horrible tragedy afflicted on Japan from the Richter scaled 8.9 earthquake and the ensuing tsunami that engulfed their northeast coastline. I watched it on the Internet.

Then it spread across the Pacific Ocean and hit the western coast of the United States and Canada, albeit much weaker.

And it dawned on me …

Over the recent months we have watched as the peoples of North Africa, Egypt, and then Libya found their countries entrenched in the “I’m madder than hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore” level of protests that has or will toppled those governments.

It spread like a tsunami across the Middle East – with little sign of slowing. Protests today were held in Saudi Arabia.

A tsunami ensuing after an earthquake whose epicenter is global and webbed together by Facebook and Twitter and other social networking sites.

I am not commenting at all on what they were protesting for. Nor what they hope to accomplish. That is not where my wonderment lies.

Basically, they want change.

Instead I am in awe of how merely being connected evolves to a collective force that can topple those governments that refused to change.

Governments simply washed away in a violent flood of demand.

It’s incredible.

All of the people on Earth are going through this internet induced earthquake together. Those that enjoy freedoms that others do not in different locations around the globe create a pressure on the less fortunate to stand up for their newly realized empowerment to fight for their collective rights.

Pressure, like the tectonic plates of the world causing each other to shift – at their fault lines - and shake the entire world as they move. And impact the other places with the repercussions.

And new faults are often created in the process.

Repercussions like drastically rising oil prices. Aftershocks from those repercussions like skyrocketing food and produce prices. The potential of crumbling economies should the tremors shake be too fierce or last too long.

This global political earthquake could shake for decades, resulting in explosive wars and shifts in alliances and trading partners, and changes in political power and gross national products – until finally a new balance is found – one that global collective can all be content with – if we survive the turmoil.

The shift in the political plates that hold our world together are now shifting – as the forces that pull the world wide web pressure our world to change shape.

But change is scary.

Lands where people have lived content with their freedoms and their higher standards of economy – well – they may not want change. That regional collective mindset that change is bad is also powerful – although often more apathetic than revolutionary.

Because we all know things change.

But no one knows what the result will be.

If the laws of physics are an accurate model – things in the end will equal out. Massive shifts will finally result – someday – in things being more equal – global equality.

Global freedom.

Global democracy.

It sounds incredibly idealistic, don’t you think? Almost sickeningly so.

But the ideal won’t be reached for generations. It takes generations for mindsets to change. It will take generations for old bigotries to fade away, for old hatreds to cease, for old loyalties to reshape and re-establish.

And the ride will be hell on earth.

It will be one long continuous earthquake, with a never ending tsunami of demanded change reaching all corners of the planet as each fights for new equalities while or to hold on tight to the liberties and freedoms they currently cherish.

I am not looking forward to it.

But it just seems to be inevitable.

Some of you will shout for joy. Others of you will scream in terror.

I’m really not looking forward to this.

As regional alliances fracture under the repercussions of change – like a loving married couple fighting over money problems – the people of those populations will suffer. Other regions will benefit as their standard of living rises – the wave of the tsunami is born.

But every year computers get faster and faster – and the ties that rope together our world wide web grows stronger and stronger as new ways to be connected evolve – global collaboration evolves with it – only not everyone will be collaborating together.

But will this make change come even faster?
Scary indeed, this brave new world – predicted decades before to happen in 1984 - by the famous science fiction futurist George Orwell. But Orwell wasn’t quite right. 1984 was when the desktop computers first made inroads to the global population – but the Internet did not become globally accessible until a decade later.

And the decade after that – as we figured out ways to use these personal devices connected by our World Wide Web – here we sit. Inching closer to Orwell’s result of one collective mind.

You can almost feel the ground shaking.

I’m definitely not looking forward to this.

It will not end before I pass away, nor before my children or their children, or even their children.

But I don’t think the world will ever be the same. For better or for worse.

And I don’t think we can escape to higher ground.

Finding Our Way

The world is full of people that want to tell you what you can do, and what you can't.

Some are people who sit in stations in life that you might perceive to be above you. They certainly perceive their station to be above you.

Some are peers who simply can't help but give you their opinion of you as constructive advice.

Some are people that feel they must put you in your place.

Some are people that truly care about you – deeply - and want to help you avoid making the mistakes they have made.

In this list of people, I find only the latter to be worthy of consideration.

If you can weed out those people who truly care about you, then listen closely to their advice. You don't have to take it, but you certainly have to consider it.

I take their consultations seriously, for in many cases they may also have a stake in the paths I choose, and the outcomes those paths lead me to. They will be travelling these new unknown paths with me, and they will share equally in the rewards that result.

That is why it is so important to surround yourself with positive passionate people in your life – whose values closely match your own.

The people that I truly admire in this world are those that followed their dreams – undaunted by those who told their dreams could not be fulfilled.

It takes a certain discipline to move forward while others around you shout loudly how mistaken or foolish you are for choosing the path you're taking after you have committed to that direction.

In this lifetime, there is really so little time.

In the blink of an eye – opportunities we may think will exist forever evaporate like the morning dew of late summer, there until the sun moves overhead to absorb it back into the air.

We have to take these opportunities as they present themselves to you. You have to pounce on them quickly and decisively. Commit to them with the passion that brought them to your attention to begin with – for the next moment – they may be gone.

I would like to tell you that I am a rational man. Rationale with clearly thought out plans – drawn out into neatly diagramed specifications – each line clearly labeled to denote the relationships of each component of a solution to the problem at hand. In my profession this is true, but in life – my diagrams in my mind are much less detailed. But in my mind – as I think about the future moves that I will make in my life, I have only boxes to signify desires – passions – the things I would like to accomplish. And like a poorly designed system – these boxes that depict future ambitions often have no lines drawn between them to map out the avenues that I will take to move from one to another.

The future often seems to hold two possible paths.

One that is the series of clouds and black boxes that we have not yet drawn the lines between yet – let alone put a label to for clarity of the approach to reach each one.

The other is that path that looks quite clear – only because we have travelled it for some time already, and the line continues straight on to the horizon – with little changing – with few curves or forks in the road forcing decisions.

Perhaps the safest path to take moving forward is to stay on the straight line of known outcomes as long as needed until we find the opportunity to move closer to the paths with no lines yet drawn – and hope the lines will appear as the goals and objectives move closer into view. Perhaps the lines will be labeled like street signs, to give us confidence the roads we find ourselves on are the right roads to travel.

Perhaps.

To move in such a new direction takes confidence in our abilities.

But it also requires the odd leap of faith.

And as we know that each step we take forward to move towards such disparate goals and objectives – faithfully and confidently – we have to believe that we are absolutely right in our conviction – and know that self-doubt is but a passing milestone as we continue our journey – and that doubt will also evaporate as we near our destination.

Along the way the naysayer's voices will sound louder as we encounter them. Their consternation more biting as our confidence starts to waver, more convincing as our commitment comes into question.

But hopefully you, as I have been so fortunate, will have those that truly care about you cheering you forward and urging you on to make that next step. To go where the naysayers declare you have no place to be. They will drown out those chants of "you're not good enough" or "you must be crazy for thinking you can do that" with their own encouragements of "just a little further now" and "you must work harder now, you're almost there!".

I have had the experience in life to have made some of these journeys already. I have had more than several occasions where my leaps of faith have taken me to better places than I was before. They have brought me now to a place of contentment with a beautiful wife and two lovely little girls. To a beautiful home. A loving family.

But again this need to take yet another leap of faith will soon stare me in the face. And this time my family will join me – so there is more at stake than to simply follow my own heart. I must also ensure that their needs are being met, that their goals and objectives are as equally included in my decision making as my own.

Because they are my voices of confidence now. Their voices will cheer me on past the naysayers who have already come out of the woodworks to try to deflate my ambitions. And they need also to feel the reward of where I am going – even though I know not truly where that destination exactly is ... just yet.

This time we will be going there together – and when we arrive – after the long series of little steps along the way are behind us – we will look back together and realize we are there.

The destination is merely the outcome.

The journey is a road of new experience we will obtain as we approach the destination. And life is comprised of journeys – not destinations. And each step of this journey – as small as most steps will be – will each add to the legacy of experience that defines us.

We will be judged by how we travelled the journey through life – not by the destinations we reach. And I have a wonderful collection of travelling companions. Companions who - with their love and shared commitment - will drown out the shouts of the naysayers.

And I will need their support every step of the way. And they will need mine.

Because the world is full of people that want to tell you what you can do, and what you can't.

Gimme the Ball

It has been a long week.

I spent last week in Toronto with my new team. The team that I was on before disbanded at the conclusion of a very successful project. I am still learning how to participate with my new team. I was lucky to land on this new team. I know I was.

I guess I had always considered myself to be a utility player on my last team. We brought in Java and I led the early projects. We brought in new modeling and documentation standards and I adopted and molded those new methodologies into our environment.

I always thought of myself as our ‘third baseman’.

Hit the ball hard at me. I will field it – bare hand it if necessary – and get that guy at first. Get the job done. Hopefully with a little pizzazz to boot.

Hit the ball to me.

On my new team, they do not know me yet. I don’t think they know how I can fit in. I guess it will take some projects under our belts together. This is fair, yet frustrating. Until this happens, I will watch the ball be given to my counterpart – who by the way is no slouch – quite capable – and enjoyable to work with.

“But …hey … hit a ball to me?”.

While our team was in Toronto last week, my other team – the Tigers – made some big trades.

Seems we picked up Miguel Cabrera and Dontrelle Willis for Calvin Maybin and Andrew Miller.

Maybin and Miller are both expected to be all stars of the future.

Cabrera and Willis are all stars of today.

So we basically traded what could be for what is. And that is a hard deal to not make.

But Cabrera is a third baseman. He bats in the .350s. He is a good third baseman.

Currently our third baseman is Brandon Inge. And Inge is one, if not the one, of my favorite players. He is listed on Alannah’s T-Ball baseball players card as her favorite player. I have written about Brandon a couple of times here.

Inge is – as Detroit fans call it – my Tiger.

Brandon is – in my opinion – an excellent defensive player. Diving stabs behind third, short bare-handed plays off his shoelace. Usually with a little pizzazz to boot.
He was considered an excellent fielder by those who critique – until this week. Suddenly he is just “all right”.
You see – Brandon’s bat was streaky – with more slumps than streaks. And many in town had been wishing for a power hitting third baseman for some time now. It was Brandon who was the final at bat with men on in the bottom of the ninth of the final game of the 2006 World Series – striking out to end the season. And some just did not forgive that.

Right now I can identify with Brandon, who has asked to be traded rather than sit the bench or play a utility role. I don’t blame him. He wants the ball.

But the frustrating part is that we don’t know how an overweight Cabrera will handle slimming down to defend third. Will he be as good as Inge?

How many Tigers do ya have to lose before they stop being the Tigers?

I will give Cabrera a chance. But I will root for Brandon where ever he travels to. Even if Inge lands in San Francisco – he will still be myTiger.

Because he wants the ball.

And I think that to me is the most endearing trait any player can have.

That and a little pizzazz.

Change is Good

Normally, as I drive into work in the morning, I quickly go through the days events – before they happen – as – after seven years - my day has become predictable.

Or at least it was. Right now I am in transition mode. Performing the final duties of my old role, and also performing the beginning duties of my new role.

I carry two laptops - one for the old job, and one for the new.

I sit at two desks - one for the old job, and one for the new.

I answer to two bosses – one for the old job, and one for the new.

I carry a day-timer – a Franklin day-timer, and my life is organized by it.

I only have one Franklin.

Everything I do is written into my Franklin, and everything I do is tracked and organized by it. My schedule, my calendar, my action items, all prioritized and carried forward from day to day until accomplished.

As a normal day easily fills a page, my day-timer is twice as crammed with additional notes, action items, and calendared events.

But change is good.

Change is good for your mind. It is great for your soul. Like a new chapter in the same story. The scenery changes and the characters are different. But the same story line prevails.

The role I am leaving has been with a project that has lasted fourteen years. I was on that team for exactly half that duration, the last seven years. And after seven years, I am still regarded as a “new guy”.

I wasn’t there when the contract was won.

I wasn’t there for the proto-type.

I wasn’t there for the go-live implementation.

You know, the ‘good old days’.

During my time I did help usher in new technologies, new methodologies, and I designed some very key aspects of the system as it evolved. And they have recognized that.

But I am still ‘the new guy’.

My new role is on a brand new project. We will be using brand new technology for a group we have never worked with. The fact that I am new to the group holds no bearing because I will be there as long as the project exists.

And I will look back on these upcoming events as ‘the good old days’.

At this time I am the only resource dedicated 100% to this new project, although I still have to spend 50% of my effort supporting the end of the old project.

So I truly am giving 150% percent at the moment.

My poor Franklin.