Is it important to be happy at your job? I suppose that having a job is probably what is most important to you in this day and age. But let’s not consider that right now. Let’s consider if you should be happy doing whatever you’re doing.
Having a job is the primary way you make money to pay your bills, buy things like food, and save for a rainy day. The more money you can make, the more options you will have with what you can do with it. But should the job that you have be something that is fulfilling or is it just something to do? I know many teenagers and college students will probably say the latter, since they are working whatever job they can find that fits around their school schedule. And unless their a genius, it’s probably not a high paying job either.
But after you’ve completed your schooling, do you go for what’s available according to geography, family ties, and the economy, or do you do what you love because it fills the need to express yourself through your work.
I’ve been told by "responsible" people that I should just accept a job because it’s with a large company with excellent benefits and room for advancement even though it’s in an industry that I have absolutely no interest in. It’s a REAL job.
On the other hand, I could move away from family and friends. Take my wife and children on an adventure into parts unknown. Living by my wits, possibly even being stranded if I lose the job I have. Egads! But isn’t that what makes life exciting? The true unknown…..There’s places I want to live and things I want to do that frankly, aren’t open to me where I’m at now.
But the responsible thing to do is to provide for my family by doing something I absolutely hate because I have good benefits and a long term future with the company…….
Read that sentence again……..
How depressing does that sound?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Carleton Men
"We are the Carleton Men!" One of my sons proudly proclaimed that to me one day. I told him, "Yes We Are!" And he went merrily on his way.
I got to thinking about what that means. Family heritage has always been a big part of my life. I was honored to carry the Carleton name, because I knew that I came from a long line of Carleton's that may have not changed history, but I'm sure we're proud of their heritage as well. Even after finding out about my adoption at birth, it didn't change the fact that they had chosen me to be their child. I was a Carleton, forever and always.
I can remember my Uncle Bettis, always telling me stories about growing up. He gave me quite a bit of insight into the legacy of the Carleton's. When I got old enough, I started researching our surname and was able to trace back our roots with some help of other Carleton geneologists all the way back to 1700 Virginia.
Obviously, my glimpse of the Carleton men was provided to me by my father, William. He was a hard worker all of his life, doing so many different things around the house, that I always wondered how he learned all of it. I guess by watching his father. My dad was a U.S. Navy Veteran. That's how we really first connected, by searching for his old Navy buddies, even attending a few reunions where I got to meet some of them. He told me endless stories about being on the ship, the crew he served with, and all the good times he had. Often, we'd end up at the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post on a Saturday afternoon for a cold drink or a beer and plenty of free popcorn where something would remind him of another adventure he had. And he always laughed about it.
We became very close friends in the five years between mom's death and his own. Mom had raised me mostly because Dad was always working, first in the Navy, then construction, then at John Deere. But after Mom's death, my dad and I got to know each other for the very first time. We went to Chicago Cubs baseball games, went on trips to see family, watched pro wrestling on television, and I started a baseball card collection for him since he became a big fan of the Atlanta Braves games on TV. I asked his blessing to marry my wife, making sure he would not feel that I had abandoned him, and he was there at the hospital just before a big wrestling pay-per-view to hold his first grandchild. My daugher was the light of his life. He absolutely beemed when I asked him to hold her or feed her or to watch her if my wife and I were going out to the store. We went to the hardware store, watched the Braves on the tube, and as little as she was, she'd try to help Dad fix things. I'm just as sure he'd be as proud of his Carleton boys, had he lived to see them born.
So when my son excitedly proclaimed that he was a Carleton Man, I chuckled to myself. And said, "Yes We Are....." And I look forward to the day when my children will give me sons and daughters of their own. And I'll think of Dad, and of all the Carleton's that had come before.
I got to thinking about what that means. Family heritage has always been a big part of my life. I was honored to carry the Carleton name, because I knew that I came from a long line of Carleton's that may have not changed history, but I'm sure we're proud of their heritage as well. Even after finding out about my adoption at birth, it didn't change the fact that they had chosen me to be their child. I was a Carleton, forever and always.
I can remember my Uncle Bettis, always telling me stories about growing up. He gave me quite a bit of insight into the legacy of the Carleton's. When I got old enough, I started researching our surname and was able to trace back our roots with some help of other Carleton geneologists all the way back to 1700 Virginia.
Obviously, my glimpse of the Carleton men was provided to me by my father, William. He was a hard worker all of his life, doing so many different things around the house, that I always wondered how he learned all of it. I guess by watching his father. My dad was a U.S. Navy Veteran. That's how we really first connected, by searching for his old Navy buddies, even attending a few reunions where I got to meet some of them. He told me endless stories about being on the ship, the crew he served with, and all the good times he had. Often, we'd end up at the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post on a Saturday afternoon for a cold drink or a beer and plenty of free popcorn where something would remind him of another adventure he had. And he always laughed about it.
We became very close friends in the five years between mom's death and his own. Mom had raised me mostly because Dad was always working, first in the Navy, then construction, then at John Deere. But after Mom's death, my dad and I got to know each other for the very first time. We went to Chicago Cubs baseball games, went on trips to see family, watched pro wrestling on television, and I started a baseball card collection for him since he became a big fan of the Atlanta Braves games on TV. I asked his blessing to marry my wife, making sure he would not feel that I had abandoned him, and he was there at the hospital just before a big wrestling pay-per-view to hold his first grandchild. My daugher was the light of his life. He absolutely beemed when I asked him to hold her or feed her or to watch her if my wife and I were going out to the store. We went to the hardware store, watched the Braves on the tube, and as little as she was, she'd try to help Dad fix things. I'm just as sure he'd be as proud of his Carleton boys, had he lived to see them born.
So when my son excitedly proclaimed that he was a Carleton Man, I chuckled to myself. And said, "Yes We Are....." And I look forward to the day when my children will give me sons and daughters of their own. And I'll think of Dad, and of all the Carleton's that had come before.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Greatest Entertainer of All Time
Berry Gordy, the legendary head of Motown Records, who discovered the Jackson 5, said today of the late Michael Jackson, that he was the greatest entertainer of all time. The spectacle that was his memorial service in Los Angeles surely ranked up there as one of the greatest entertainment events ever produced, especially in such a short period of time.
I wasn't a great fan of Michael Jackson. I wasn't even a casual fan of Michael Jackson. His songs were okay, but to be honest, I enjoyed the sounds that he and his brothers made as the Jackson 5. Now THOSE were some songs with SOUL. And no matter what you thought about his weirdness or the charges he molested children, Michael Jackson it appears, was something no one can deny. He was a father who was loved by his children.
Children are so fickle. If you buy them their favorite toy or take them to the water park, you ultimately are the best father in the entire world. But when you discipline them, even in love, you become the most horrible monster ever allowed to spawn. Michael Jackson had the one thing that no critics or no reporters could take away...the love of his three children. I remember watching the passing of Elvis Presley in Memphis. I tried to convey to my children how much BIGGER this was. Undeniably, this even beats out the funeral of Princess Diana of Wales. But in the passing of all these great people, I saw something that I hadn't witnessed since the death of President John F. Kennedy.
We all remember the images of Kennedy's son, John Junior, his hand raised in saluting his father. He probably didn't realize that his father was one of the most popular presidents ever elected. All he knew was that his father, who had picked him up and put him on his knee...the man who loved him unconditionally, the man he called daddy, would no longer be around. And it was today, while watching video online of the memorial service, I saw the face of Jackson's 11 year old daughter, Paris, come to the microphone in the Staples Center, surrounded by Jackson's family, and tell the world what exactly they should know about her father.
According to Paris, her daddy was the best father. Finally, with tears flowing freely she said, "I just wanted to say I love him so much." She collapsed into the arms of the Jackson family, sister and legendary star herself, Janet Jackson, holding her niece, and comforting her. Nobody could watch that clip and not realize that it didn't matter that her father was reportedly in debt to the tune of $500 million. It didn't matter to Paris or her brothers, Prince Michael & Blanket that her father may have done things in the past that would put his career and life in judgement. All they knew was that their daddy was gone. And how many of us have felt the same way when our fathers left this world?
My father was the best friend I could ever have. After the death of my mother, I was left with this man, who although I had lived with him for 30 some years, I knew very little about. During the five years we had together after Mom's passing, we got to know each other. We went to Cubs games together, we bought tools at the hardware store, we ate and drank together, and cried together at the birth of my own daughter. And when he died suddenly on Christmas Eve, I remember wondering what I was going to do...my daddy was dead.
I don't really care if you liked Michael Jackson or not and God alone will judge him for his actions on earth. If he really was the drug addicted pedophile that some thought he was, so be it. He cannot harm anyone any longer. But to his daughter, he was just Daddy. And I feel her loss.
I wasn't a great fan of Michael Jackson. I wasn't even a casual fan of Michael Jackson. His songs were okay, but to be honest, I enjoyed the sounds that he and his brothers made as the Jackson 5. Now THOSE were some songs with SOUL. And no matter what you thought about his weirdness or the charges he molested children, Michael Jackson it appears, was something no one can deny. He was a father who was loved by his children.
Children are so fickle. If you buy them their favorite toy or take them to the water park, you ultimately are the best father in the entire world. But when you discipline them, even in love, you become the most horrible monster ever allowed to spawn. Michael Jackson had the one thing that no critics or no reporters could take away...the love of his three children. I remember watching the passing of Elvis Presley in Memphis. I tried to convey to my children how much BIGGER this was. Undeniably, this even beats out the funeral of Princess Diana of Wales. But in the passing of all these great people, I saw something that I hadn't witnessed since the death of President John F. Kennedy.
We all remember the images of Kennedy's son, John Junior, his hand raised in saluting his father. He probably didn't realize that his father was one of the most popular presidents ever elected. All he knew was that his father, who had picked him up and put him on his knee...the man who loved him unconditionally, the man he called daddy, would no longer be around. And it was today, while watching video online of the memorial service, I saw the face of Jackson's 11 year old daughter, Paris, come to the microphone in the Staples Center, surrounded by Jackson's family, and tell the world what exactly they should know about her father.
According to Paris, her daddy was the best father. Finally, with tears flowing freely she said, "I just wanted to say I love him so much." She collapsed into the arms of the Jackson family, sister and legendary star herself, Janet Jackson, holding her niece, and comforting her. Nobody could watch that clip and not realize that it didn't matter that her father was reportedly in debt to the tune of $500 million. It didn't matter to Paris or her brothers, Prince Michael & Blanket that her father may have done things in the past that would put his career and life in judgement. All they knew was that their daddy was gone. And how many of us have felt the same way when our fathers left this world?
My father was the best friend I could ever have. After the death of my mother, I was left with this man, who although I had lived with him for 30 some years, I knew very little about. During the five years we had together after Mom's passing, we got to know each other. We went to Cubs games together, we bought tools at the hardware store, we ate and drank together, and cried together at the birth of my own daughter. And when he died suddenly on Christmas Eve, I remember wondering what I was going to do...my daddy was dead.
I don't really care if you liked Michael Jackson or not and God alone will judge him for his actions on earth. If he really was the drug addicted pedophile that some thought he was, so be it. He cannot harm anyone any longer. But to his daughter, he was just Daddy. And I feel her loss.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Journey
"Memories time cannot erase.....I still see your face...."
I was working at the radio station yesterday and one of my favorite new songs was playing. It's the newly revamped Journey song "Where Did I Lose Your Love". It's really a song about divorce, about breaking up, but visions of a girl I once knew long ago came flooding into my mind. We didn't really "break up"...logistically, we couldn't continue our hot teenage romance because she moved away. Her father was a minister and had been transferred to another church in the state. But for the too few months we spent together, my adolescent heart felt like it would explode every time I saw her.
I won't go into details of the relationship, but after the miles tore us apart, I saw her only one more time. My buddies and I made our senior trip to Houston, Texas, to celebrate our passing from teens to men. On the way back, I made the four other guys detour through the little town that she was living in, because I hoped we could reconnect and her memories would be as strong as my own of our youthful passion. After much griping about us running out of gas in the middle of a corn field (we were on fumes with no money at all between us), we stopped at a truck stop where I made the call to her home.
She came quickly, we talked, and once more, we kissed, bringing all those memories back of the time we had shared. But this time, it was different. It lingered, both of us knowing somehow that this would be the last time. The last time we would ever touch, would ever talk, would ever see each other again.
Sadly, a few years ago, I tried to find this girl through various sources, only to learn that she had died under circumstances I still have not been able to confirm. She did not live to a ripe old age. This revelation that she was gone from this life continues to evoke strong emotion in me. We weren't in a deeply committed relationship...in fact, as relationships go, we hardly knew each other. But it was, as the song goes, a flood of memories that time cannot erase. I still see her face.
"Where did I lose your love? You'll always be the question in my heart. How could I make you stay? I still regret the night you walked away. What we shared was not enough.... Where did I lose your love?"
I began thinking about those people who have touched my life in a way that will forever be etched upon my heart, my emotions, and my memories. In light of the recent passing of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett, I watched as so many people were moved by the lives of these celebrities that they didn't know personally. For Jackson, open raw emotion had them crying in the street, clamoring to win the lottery to attend the funeral for the "King of Pop". They had never met this man in their lives, but his music touched them in a way that they remembered exactly what they were doing when his songs came on the radio.
I've been incredibly blessed to have so many people in my life that have left their mark. And the funny part is, these are people that aren't famous, haven't become rich, discovered a cure for cancer, or anything else noteworthy. These are just people that because of an act of kindness or just their presence have made my life a patchwork of memories and emotions that has formed me into who I am today. I react a certain way now because of my experience with them.
It's comforting to think in cases where someones life has come to an end prematurely, that it was not in vain. Until we get to Heaven, we may never realize how our own lives were touched by these people in the short time they were here on this earth. Maybe it's because of their memory that we strived to be a better person. We tried a little harder to make them proud of what we've become. Maybe we decided that a little embarrassment now was worth an eternity of understanding, if we just would have said something.
I've said all this to come to this point. Don't take these people for granted. Tell them now what they mean to you and why. Sure, it might be embarrassing. But so what? Let your friends know how much they mean to you. If you find your soul mate, even if being together is impossible, say the words. And if an act of kindness touches your heart, thank them for it. That goes for parents and grandparents, too. Before it's too late, tell them how much of an impact they've made upon your life.
As we take this journey....don't look back on your life and say "Where Did I Lose Your Love"?
I was working at the radio station yesterday and one of my favorite new songs was playing. It's the newly revamped Journey song "Where Did I Lose Your Love". It's really a song about divorce, about breaking up, but visions of a girl I once knew long ago came flooding into my mind. We didn't really "break up"...logistically, we couldn't continue our hot teenage romance because she moved away. Her father was a minister and had been transferred to another church in the state. But for the too few months we spent together, my adolescent heart felt like it would explode every time I saw her.
I won't go into details of the relationship, but after the miles tore us apart, I saw her only one more time. My buddies and I made our senior trip to Houston, Texas, to celebrate our passing from teens to men. On the way back, I made the four other guys detour through the little town that she was living in, because I hoped we could reconnect and her memories would be as strong as my own of our youthful passion. After much griping about us running out of gas in the middle of a corn field (we were on fumes with no money at all between us), we stopped at a truck stop where I made the call to her home.
She came quickly, we talked, and once more, we kissed, bringing all those memories back of the time we had shared. But this time, it was different. It lingered, both of us knowing somehow that this would be the last time. The last time we would ever touch, would ever talk, would ever see each other again.
Sadly, a few years ago, I tried to find this girl through various sources, only to learn that she had died under circumstances I still have not been able to confirm. She did not live to a ripe old age. This revelation that she was gone from this life continues to evoke strong emotion in me. We weren't in a deeply committed relationship...in fact, as relationships go, we hardly knew each other. But it was, as the song goes, a flood of memories that time cannot erase. I still see her face.
"Where did I lose your love? You'll always be the question in my heart. How could I make you stay? I still regret the night you walked away. What we shared was not enough.... Where did I lose your love?"
I began thinking about those people who have touched my life in a way that will forever be etched upon my heart, my emotions, and my memories. In light of the recent passing of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett, I watched as so many people were moved by the lives of these celebrities that they didn't know personally. For Jackson, open raw emotion had them crying in the street, clamoring to win the lottery to attend the funeral for the "King of Pop". They had never met this man in their lives, but his music touched them in a way that they remembered exactly what they were doing when his songs came on the radio.
I've been incredibly blessed to have so many people in my life that have left their mark. And the funny part is, these are people that aren't famous, haven't become rich, discovered a cure for cancer, or anything else noteworthy. These are just people that because of an act of kindness or just their presence have made my life a patchwork of memories and emotions that has formed me into who I am today. I react a certain way now because of my experience with them.
It's comforting to think in cases where someones life has come to an end prematurely, that it was not in vain. Until we get to Heaven, we may never realize how our own lives were touched by these people in the short time they were here on this earth. Maybe it's because of their memory that we strived to be a better person. We tried a little harder to make them proud of what we've become. Maybe we decided that a little embarrassment now was worth an eternity of understanding, if we just would have said something.
I've said all this to come to this point. Don't take these people for granted. Tell them now what they mean to you and why. Sure, it might be embarrassing. But so what? Let your friends know how much they mean to you. If you find your soul mate, even if being together is impossible, say the words. And if an act of kindness touches your heart, thank them for it. That goes for parents and grandparents, too. Before it's too late, tell them how much of an impact they've made upon your life.
As we take this journey....don't look back on your life and say "Where Did I Lose Your Love"?
Saturday, July 4, 2009
And when my eyes opened, I saw....
The pressure that a person is under to come up with a name for something. If you've had the privilege to be a parent and procreate, you've undoubtedly had to come up with a name for your child, the fruit of your loins, your legacy....the spawn that will carry on your name hopefully forever.
So I had to come up with a name for this space. I chose "Eyes Open" because frankly, I think that I see a lot of things that nobody else sees. I read dozens of news sites daily...straight news, slanted news, religious news, political news, news about my favorite hobbies, activities, and interests. And usually, something jumps out at me that I think hasn't occurred to anybody else.
A little background....I've been in the radio business for nearly 25 years now. And most of the time I talk about subjects that would be of little or no consequence to the world. Mostly because if I gave my true opinion about certain subjects, I would be looking for work in some other field than radio. You see, I don't have the luxury that celebrities, political wonks, and no-nothing actors, singers, and athletes have. That is the ability to shoot my mouth off about anything I feel like without suffering some kind of financial penalty. I feed my family with my job. But if I don't have a job because I don't temper my words, it's the food bank for me.
So I've decided that it's time that I have a forum to spout off about whatever I feel like, whenever I feel like, how I feel like, with little or no repercussions. I don't think I'll ever run for elected office, so it's not like they'll be going through my posts with a fine tooth comb before I'm confirmed for a Supreme Court position. Who would really want the job? Or the headache? Can anyone say Sarah Palin?
Please feel free to invite people to check out the outrageous things that I'm about to say. Maybe you'll agree, maybe you won't. That's okay. I still like you. Or at least, I'll still tolerate you socially in a dinner party setting. I'm finally seeing things with my "Eyes Open".
So I had to come up with a name for this space. I chose "Eyes Open" because frankly, I think that I see a lot of things that nobody else sees. I read dozens of news sites daily...straight news, slanted news, religious news, political news, news about my favorite hobbies, activities, and interests. And usually, something jumps out at me that I think hasn't occurred to anybody else.
A little background....I've been in the radio business for nearly 25 years now. And most of the time I talk about subjects that would be of little or no consequence to the world. Mostly because if I gave my true opinion about certain subjects, I would be looking for work in some other field than radio. You see, I don't have the luxury that celebrities, political wonks, and no-nothing actors, singers, and athletes have. That is the ability to shoot my mouth off about anything I feel like without suffering some kind of financial penalty. I feed my family with my job. But if I don't have a job because I don't temper my words, it's the food bank for me.
So I've decided that it's time that I have a forum to spout off about whatever I feel like, whenever I feel like, how I feel like, with little or no repercussions. I don't think I'll ever run for elected office, so it's not like they'll be going through my posts with a fine tooth comb before I'm confirmed for a Supreme Court position. Who would really want the job? Or the headache? Can anyone say Sarah Palin?
Please feel free to invite people to check out the outrageous things that I'm about to say. Maybe you'll agree, maybe you won't. That's okay. I still like you. Or at least, I'll still tolerate you socially in a dinner party setting. I'm finally seeing things with my "Eyes Open".
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