The Pit of Despair

Well, America. You have a new president. For better or for worse.

Okay, I'll admit it. Some of the things he's done so far are...worrisome, to say the least. Some of his candidates for cabinet posts are...troublesome. Unqualified.

A lot of my friends are lost in despair. How can this have happened here? I've got one answer to that.

We became complacent.

See, there's a problem with the battle between the light and the dark. The light wins battles. Significant battles. But the dark never goes away. It just retreats. Hides in the corner until the light isn't paying attention. Then it leaps out and says "Ta-da! I'm baaaack!" (Cue your best Jack Nicolson here.)

And it's not like we got totally complacent. We knew there was still work to be done on women's issues, racial tensions, religious tensions, relations between the various components of society. But we got complacent enough. And the Dark is really, really opportunistic.

I admit that I've hidden a lot of news stuff from my Facebook feed. I don't go to Twitter these days. Why? It's too overwhelming. Too much "the sky is falling" hand wringing. Too much ugliness, from both sides (see the snarky Twitter bullying of Barron Trump by some of the opposition).

Our social commentary as gotten vile and vicious.

I get most of my news these days from the BBC or The Guardian. For some reason, maybe because they are foreign, there's a tone of rationality that makes the bad news not less bad, but easier to deal with. Because I, like so many, am exhausted. Not just with the national picture, my home front isn't helping. (Can someone please give me solution to getting a fourteen-year-old boy to, you know, do his homework and get up in the morning? Please? Something that doesn't involve me getting up at the crack of dawn? Thanks.)

Recently, a few friends have said they can't get over the sadness, despair, and anger in their hearts. As a Catholic Christian, I can't help think this is wrong.

I'm not advocating rolling over. Far from it. Remember Jesus in the temple? He was pretty angry. As I recall, he "fashioned a whip of cords and drove them from the temple." That's pretty physical. Not exactly rolling over. Christ never advocated rolling over.

But he also cautions us against fear. "Do not be afraid" occurs over and over in Scripture. I forget exactly how many times, but it is one of the most common - if not the most common - phrase in the Bible. Clearly, God is pretty serious. Things may be bleak. You may be angry and justly so.

But do not be afraid.

There's a natural tendency to fall into despair, I think. But this, I think, is wrong. We have to cling to hope. We have to believe that people are essentially decent. We have to believe that we as a culture will rise up to protect that which we believe.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, —

We do not consent. We must not consent. And we must remember:

What country ever existed a century and a half without a rebellion? And what country can preserve it's liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms. The remedy is to set them right as to facts, pardon and pacify them. What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is it's natural manure.

That quote is from Thomas Jefferson. How long has the American republic existed (republic, not a democracy, remember that)?

Perhaps it is time for a little blood. A little rebellion. A little resistance.

 

The Myth of the Fake Smile

So, wow. Six years since I've used this blog.

See, I moved all my "professional" stuff to WordPress. I've got an author site and blog there. Except...

Over there, I have to be positive. Upbeat. Project the right image. And, um, I kinda don't want to be upbeat right now. I know this is tied to my Google account and I can't help that, but maybe it'll be a little more "hidden." Especially if I don't use any tags or metadata.

I don't care if nobody reads this. I just need a place to get it out.

I feel like a fake, a phony. I suppose from the outside my family looks pretty cool. Inside, not so much.

I feel like I've failed my husband. Nothing I do seems to be enough to make him happy these days. He looked at me the other day and said flat out, "We know who does most of the work in this house." He didn't mean me.

He said he was going to "trust me" when it came to shopping for clothes for our daughter because he didn't have sisters, so teenage girls are a little foreign to him. Except...he doesn't. She likes short skirts (mini skirts, not micro-minis) and high heels. She's a teenage girl. She's supposed to like those things. Heck, I liked those things as a teenage girl. My mother said absolutely not and bought my clothes in the women's department. Long, flowy skirts with hideous floral patterns. I was quite the sight -- and the mockery was cruel. I'm not going to do that to my girl.

He thought her homecoming dress was suitable for a street walker. My 87-year-old great aunt thought she looked fantastic.

You figure it out.

I feel like I've failed my daughter. And my son, for that matter. My girl told me last night that she barely knows her father, she's appalled at the way he treats her brother, and she can't talk to me because she sees the pressure I'm under every day.

Fantastic.

I'm a 40-year old woman. I admit I've unloaded -- sometimes unintentionally (mostly unintentionally) to my teenage daughter. Why? Because I don't have friends. I have a life full of acquaintances. Why? Because most of the women I'm around aren't at the same stage of their lives. The ones who are have -- different interests, let's call them. Or they are in different socio-economic circles. And boy, do they let me know it. Not overtly, mind you. By little things. I am Not Wanted.

With The Boy starting high school, I'm hoping I find some friends. Not too hopeful, though. I had the same hopes when The Girl started high school.

I feel like I've failed my son. My husband is tough on him, so tough. He's a sensitive kid, always has been. He's smarter than his grades show him to be. But nothing is good enough for his father, who has on occasion hit my son when he's angry. I tried to step in, say that was unacceptable and inappropriate. I was shoved aside, physically and verbally, and told I didn't know what was needed to raise a "strong man."

My husband goes to church all the time. Almost obsessively. If it comes down to doing something for the family or doing something for the church, he picks the church. He think it makes him godly. He's getting enough positive feedback there. He's asked to be on all sorts of committees and groups. The implied message is, "You're doing it right."

Except in the church of the home, I think he's failing miserably.

I'd go to my mother except she died in 2001. My grandmothers are both dead. This mothering thing would be a whole lot easier to take if I had someone to talk to. But I don't. Maybe that great-aunt. But I have a feeling that nothing I do will be acceptable to my husband. It's his way or no way. I've tried to talk to men he respects at our church to try and get them to help me. Nothing. I talked to my pastor. Nothing.

And I've tried to talk to my husband. Honest, cross my heart. But the conversation always winds up about what I'm doing wrong, how it's my fault. It's never his fault.

Don't believe me? Last night I told him, "Your daughter told me something interesting tonight. She feels like she doesn't know you. And she'd really like to."

Without missing a beat he said, "I tried. She didn't want to listen."

See how he shifted to blame to her? She didn't want to listen to him. Not, "Thanks for letting me know. I'll talk to her and figure something out." No, it was "'I've done that and she didn't want to listen."

"Maybe she wasn't ready to listen," I said. "Maybe she's ready now."

At least I finally got him to say, "Thanks. That is interesting."

So here I sit at my job, at my computer, typing furiously and trying not to cry. I just make an appointment for The Girl to talk to a Certified Behavioral Therapist at her doctor's office. I have to hide it from my husband. His fear is that if you seek psychological help, you'll be branded and never get a job, never be able to own a gun (yeah, that's what he's concerned about). Yes, it's a very old-fashioned view on mental health. But again, when I try to talk to him, he accuses me (and her) of bowing to the liberal media and we're becoming a national of weaklings.

I can't win. I do nothing, my family falls apart quietly. I do something, it's an uproar.

So I plaster on a smile and walk out the door.

Because I have no one to talk to.

Because I'm alone.

I'm going on a church retreat this weekend. I plan to talk to one of the Passionist priests there. Hopefully I'll get some support and help.

God help me if I don't.

I don't know if this will get tied back to my "public" face. I hope not. But if it does, well, it's me being honest. There must be more people out there hiding behind the fake smile.

Right?

Confessions of a Former PC User

Or how I shut the Windows and took a bite of the Apple

A couple months ago, my trusty Dell Inspiron laptop started showing signs of age, the most annoying of which was random malfunctions of the space bar (turns out it's really hard to type documents when the space bar doesn't work reliably). After discussing with The Hubby, I started research into replacements.

Now, I've always been a PC girl. Never really had monumental difficulties with them. But Macs have always intrigued me. Ultimately, I have wound up with PCs because of price, and once I totaled up the cost of machine and required software I once again shelved the thoughts of a Mac. But just as I was about to close the deal on a middle-of-the-road, but perfectly suitable HP Pavilion, my brother-in-law offered me Office for Mac for free (legally, I assure you). Hmm. And I didn't really need Quicken immediately, right? After all the Dell was still functional and I had time to evaluate options for home finance.

Another trip to BestBuy was in order. I looked at the Macbook (not the Pro). I got a demo. I was sold. One white, 13" Macbook please - just a shade over $1,000 including tax (and I got 18-month financing).

Two months later, the verdict is in: I love this thing. I can't believe it took me so long to buy a Mac. Seriously, I might never buy a PC again.

How do I love my Mac? Let me count the ways (in no particular order).

1. Form Factor

Even folks I know who don't like using Macs admit it: Macs are pretty. Apple may not have the monopoly on sleek design, but they seem to do it consistently better than anybody else. The Macbook is no exception. The thing is all slim lines and rounded corners, no jutting edges or weird angles. When closed, the Macbook is truly "closed," as the curved lid meets curved body. Apple calls it "unibody design." The only "gap" is a small finger ridge to grasp when opening the lid. The result is a sleek, slim rectangle with rounded corners, easy to carry, easy to slide into any kind of bag. Closed, the Macbook is just over 1" thick and it weighs less than 5 pounds, so it's actually, you know, portable. I don't feel like I'm carrying a bag of bricks.

Of course like so many things Apple, the battery is internal - no popping it on and off (Apple critics will mention that this only means I can't change the battery myself). There doesn't seem to be a fan - no vents anywhere and I found the lack of whirring a bit unsettling at first. Yet the bottom of the Macbook stays cooler than any laptop with a fan I've used; I can put it directly on my lap and nothing gets uncomfortably warm.

There is no CD drawer - it's a slot much like a car CD player. So no jutting drawer to bump into things, get blocked, or get snapped off. Of course this also means no lame "my cup holder is broken" tech support jokes, but I can live with that.

The keyboard is not quite "solid surface," but the keys are much lower profile and seem "tighter" than the ones on my Dell, which means less wiggling - and they feel simultaneously sleeker and "grippier" to my fingers. The trackpad is sensitive without being slippery; much more precise and reliable than my Dell (I found myself restarting the Dell to reload the trackpad driver on occasion). The Multi-touch functioning is both intuitive and flexible (and it does pinch thing too); I like how just using a two-finger swipe scrolls, instead of having to scroll along the edge of the pad.

At first I couldn't figure out where the power jack was. Where was the standard round hole? After finding the MagSafe Power Adapter, I realized this might be the most genius power attachment ever. You mean when my kid trips over the cord it just breaks away and doesn't drag the machine to the ground? Brilliant!

Okay, I wish it came in something other than white, but when you're nitpicking on the color, you know you don't have a lot to complain about.

2. Battery Life

Apple rates the battery usage of the Macbook at 10 hours. I don't know exactly how long it lasts, but I know I used it for about four hours unplugged and still had 65%-70% of my battery remaining. The Hubby and I watched a forty-minute streaming video at almost full brightness of the screen, and the battery was still full of juice. Despite the fact that I paid for the 9-cell battery on the Dell, I never got more than 4-5 hours of computing out of it, and an hour-long streaming video took it down to the wire. Clear advantage to Apple.

3. Ease of Setup

So I arrive at home with my tiny Mac box, unpack, and settle in for what I think is going to be hours of setup and configuration. Wrong. I turn on the Macbook and it steps me right through initial setup. Oh, Mac has detected a wireless network - do you want to connect? No installation of router drivers or fancy software to get connected. It detected other machines in the network without problem. Plugged in an external hard drive - bingo, files transferred. Printer drivers? Who needs them! First time I wanted to print, the Macbook detected printers on the network. Configuring Mac's Mail application to connect to my Comcast.net account was equally flawless (I will admit that Office 2007 was much better at that on Windows than previous versions of Office). The only thing it won't detect when plugged in is my phone (a Samsung Omnia running Windows Mobile Pro 6.1). Oh, and I did wind up retyping my Outlook contacts, but only because I didn't feel like downloading Thunderbird, installing, exporting, and then importing. I don't have that many contacts to make it worth my time.

4. Responsiveness

Whenever you turn on a Windows machine, or "wake" it up, there is a time lag while Windows gets itself settled. Mac, not so much. Push the power button and it's on in less than 30 seconds. I open the lid and boom! its ready to use, no "resuming" lag. Call it responsiveness, or instant on, or whatever. I don't know what to call it, but I like it.

5. Display clarity

The screen on the Macbook is smaller than my Dell (13" as opposed to 15"), but I sure don't miss those two inches. Maybe because everything is so crisp. The colors pop and it's a pleasure to look at the screen. Everything from web surfing to watching videos is easy on the eyes.

6. Stability

No quirks, no finicky behavior. Nothing hesitates or goes into a weird "hourglass" state. I have not had a dropped wireless signal in the two months I've been using it (something that cannot be said for the PCs in the house). No, "Word has encountered an error and needs to close."It's trite, but really, "it just works."

7. Software

The only "external" applications I've installed are Word and Excel for Mac. I've found everything else that comes with the Mac (Mail, iCal, Address Book, etc). to be perfectly adequate. I have friends who say the Mac versions of Word/Excel pale before the Windows versions, but really, for home use they are just fine (I don't need most of the fancier features to type a letter or create a spreadsheet to track Scout dues).

Where the Mac really shines is the multi-media software. It's long been held that Apple does the "artistic" stuff better. I can't speak to animation or CAD, but for what I need it is outstanding. I have thousands of digital photos. For years, all I've wanted to do is put them together in a slide show with some music. And while I won't say I couldn't figure it out under Windows, I couldn't figure out how to do it both easily and cheaply. I didn't want to learn to be a pro with Photoshop, I just wanted a stinking digital photo slide show.

Not only does the Mac come with all the software necessary (iPhoto, iMovie, iTunes, iDVD), it's all ridiculously simple. I am always wary when a company touts how "easy" it is do something. But armed with nothing except the 10 minute demonstration from the Apple rep at BestBuy and my own determination, I created a slide show with music of our beach vacation in about 15 minutes. I created a slide show for my son's Cub Scout pack of their summer camping in about 30 minutes - and most of that time was spent selecting photos and appropriate music. Put the photos in iPhoto, import them to iMovie, dump in music, select a theme, and hey presto! Semi-professional looking slide show. The folks at Cub Scouts couldn't thank me enough for all my "work." Honesty compelled me to admit it hadn't been that hard - the Mac did all the hard work.

And I love the Dock. I'm just saying.

Conclusion

It's hard for me to categorically say, "Never buy a PC," because really, you have to pick the right tool for the job. But for home computing, you don't need a Cray. If you're a hard-core gamer, a Mac may not be for you. If you're on a really limited budget, Mac may not be for you (I don't think Apple sells anything for $300). But if you've got the cash, and you want computing to be fun instead of work, I highly recommend shelving any suspicions you may have and looking at the Apple line. Heck, it might not cost as much as you think. You might just be pleasantly surprised.

And taking a bit of this Apple won't even get you thrown out of the Garden of Eden.

Pax et Bonum

I recently finished a book called The Saint and the Sultan, by Paul Moses. Moses, a journalist and professor of journalism, seeks to strip away the mythos regarding the visit of St. Francis of Assisi to Sultan Malik al-Kamil during the Fifth Crusade (and believe me, as a graduate of St. Bonaventure University I can tell you the story has a lot of mythos). More than just a historical recount, Moses also seeks to learn what the story can tell us today, especially with the current state of Christian-Muslim affairs.

Even if you aren't Catholic, you've probably heard of St. Francis. You know, the medieval hippie. The guy who talked to animals, and preached a message of peace. The guy who, despite his middle-class upbringing and initial knightly aspirations, ditched it all to live a life of abject poverty, embracing the poor and living how he believed the original Apostles lived, in an attempt to be closer to Jesus. The only saint ever painted by the great artist Rembrandt; the guy who is probably the epitome of "humble."

For Francis, peace just wasn't a really nice thing. It was the only way we could draw closer to God. Francis had been a soldier. He'd been a POW in a war between Perugia and Assisi. He'd been in prison, and it had broken him. His rejection of war was absolute. So when the Fifth Crusade started, Francis was determined to go. Not to fight, but to find a different way to resolve the conflict between Christian West and Islamic East.

See, Francis had a really radical idea. Instead of fighting, why not have a conversation?

Like I said, radical - even by today's standards.

As I said earlier, a lot of mythos has grown up around this story, some of it propagated by the Church and even St. Bonaventure, minister general of the Franciscan order and official biographer of on of Catholicism's most beloved saints. These stories paint a confrontational Francis, who stormed into the sultan's palace, challenged his advisers to a "trial by fire," and convinced al-Kamil to convert.

What really happened? Francis and a couple of followers trudged in their rough brown robes through the battlefield to al-Kamil's palace to preach peace. By all believable accounts, the brothers were welcomed warmly, listened to respectfully, and sent safely back. The sultan did not convert - but he did listen.

Powerful stuff. Radical stuff. Why would this story be embellished and obscured? It wasn't politically correct, that's why.

But close your eyes and picture this scene. A simple, frail man in a rough brown robe speaking earnestly to a richly robed prince. Talking not of war and violence, but peace and love. Speaking not as an opponent, but as a brother. Holding out a hand that did not clasp a sword, but one that would clasp another hand in friendship. After that visit, Francis went back to Italy to exhort his followers. Not to go to war, but to go among the Muslims to live, to "be subject" to them, to love them. For Francis very firmly believed that the only way to truly unite and go beyond the violence was to recognize the Muslims as our neighbors and "love our neighbors as ourselves." Here was a simple man who did not content himself to talking to others in his daily life. He traveled with popes and princes preaching his message, and crossed a battlefield to talk with a prince of his vision of peace.

Powerful stuff. Radical stuff.

Now keep your eyes closed and pretend that this message had blossomed then, instead of "falling on rocky ground" to quote the parable. Pretend that the message had not been whitewashed by a Church intent on a political mission. What would be different today?

It got me thinking. The answer is "a lot." If Christian and Muslim alike had been able to embrace Francis' message of love in the early thirteenth century, what would the world look like today? Would 9-11 or the U.S.S. Cole bombings have happened? Or would we all have learned to get along, to respect each other, to have earnest dialog instead of war?

I did not know this, but turns out that Franciscans sent messengers to both President Bush and leaders in the Middle East before the current Iraqi war to preach peace. What if they had listened?

Francis brought the world a message of hope. He truly and absolutely believe that no conflict could be solved by violence. That the only hope we had was to embrace Christ's message of love and peace. To meet violence with compassion.

It was radical then. It is radical now. But the more I think, the more I hear the stories and diatribe about the proposed Islamic community center near Ground Zero, the more I think it is the only way.

It is our fear that drives the conflict - on both sides. Fear that our way of life and beliefs will be trampled, fear that we will not be free to worship as we believe, fear of the "other." Only learning will free us from that fear. And meaningful learning can only become reality through a spirit of love and peace. Not a fake peace, not "do it my way and we won't have a problem" peace. Peace as Francis envisioned it. He exhorted his brothers to live among the Muslims, to be servants. Not so they would be dominated, not because their beliefs were inferior. So they would have more opportunity to preach peace, to provide a living Gospel example, and convince Muslims that peace was the right way.

Don't get me wrong. Accounts of Islamic terrorism make me sad. Sad on a profound level. Sad that we have not really come as far as we think we have since the Crusades. Sad that we all, Christian and Muslim alike, are still too proud to be "servant" and must mold the world to our vision, even if that means destroying the vision of others.

But I have also come to believe that Francis was right. The only way is to embrace peace - the peace of God, not of men. We must lay aside our pride, and embrace humility in the way Francis did. I don't know that we have to go whole hog, sell our homes and possessions, and start wandering in rough brown robes. But we have to sell our possessions in our heart - sell our pride, our jealousy, our fear, our anger, our possessive desire - to make room for a greater possession - peace and love.

The title of this post, "Pax et Bonum," was a common way to sign things at St Bonaventure University. It is Latin, and means "peace and the good" (roughly). It was a motto for St. Francis and his order - his wish for "peace and the good" for all he met. It should be a motto for us all, right now, in 2010. Imagine the powerful transformation that would occur if we could all look at each other and sincerely wish nothing but peace and good for all, regardless of creed, race, color, or whatnot.

Powerful stuff. Radical stuff.

Pax et bonum.

The Witching Hour

(This is a short story I wrote a couple years ago. In the absence of having anything illuminating to say, I figured I'd post it for your reading pleasure. Feel free to leave comments.)

The sounds reached her first. The soft music of crickets blended with the deep, mellow bass of night frogs in a soothing nocturnal symphony. Occasionally, the hoot of a screech owl accented the song, lending an eerie overtone.

Determined, she pushed through a blackness that muffled like a thick blanket. They had warned her it might be difficult to break through, but she persevered. Finally, the blackness parted and she passed through with a silent sigh of relief.

Pale, cold moonlight bathed the field, glittering off an early frost. Here and there, she saw wisps of steam rising from still-warm soil into the air. Inhaling deeply, she was disappointed she could not smell the sharp bite of the night air, just as she could not feel the night’s coldness. Oh well, they had told her it would be so. Still, it was a disappointment.

Tilting her head, she looked up. Stars glistened like diamonds on a black velvet sky, surrounding a perfect silver full moon. The moon’s position told her it was just midnight, the witching hour, when spirits issued forth in the land of the living. So went the stories the grannies told the young ones, stories that frightened the littlest ones into obedience and amused the older children. If they only knew, she thought wryly.

She suppressed the urge to run through the forest, the trees beckoning her as old friends. Her time was short; only one hour was allotted. They had been quite firm on that point. She had petitioned long and hard for this chance and had no intention of wasting it. The privilege would only be given once. Gathering her resolve, she sped toward the town, leaving a heavier carpet of frost behind her.

More silent than an owl, she glided through the streets, everywhere leaving the trail of frost. Most townspeople slept, but those who still watched felt a chill as she passed and the more superstitious made signs to ward against spirits.

The windows to the great house were dark and the door was barred, but it meant little to her. The only light was that of the moon and her eyes needed no other. All the details of the house matched her memories, except that her portrait was gone from above the fireplace. The portrait of a man, handsome and arrogant, in a gaudy gold frame hung on the wall that had once been graced by an elegant painting of a young, blushing bride in a distinguished black walnut frame. She curled her lip in disdain and carefully mounted the grand staircase. Behind her, the frosty path glittered with an unholy light.

Her children, her beloved boys, slumbered peacefully. The younger cried softly once, and then snuggled deeper into his blanket as if warding off a chill. Tenderly, she stretched out a hand to comfort him, but snatched it back in time. What once would have been a mother’s soothing touch would now only bring death. Her heart ached to weep, but her eyes remained dry. Tears were beyond her now.

The large feather bed was rumpled, but held only one occupant. Shining gold curls fanned across the pillow; a few tendrils lay across the girl’s rosy young cheek. She recognized the sweet features of the upstairs maid. Peaceful breathing came through perfect rosebud lips. A cold fury welled up inside her. How dare she! she thought, slowly extending her killing touch. Yet again she stopped. It would do no good to punish this foolish young thing who was only a momentary amusement. No, her anger and vengeance was reserved for one and one only.

She found him where she expected to, lounging in his study before a dying fire, the heavy velvet drapes drawn tight. His silk robe was open to the waist; a glass of wine was in his hand. He looked like a tiger, satiated after his last meal.

A sudden, violent, icy wind whipped through the room, causing him to start with alarm. The fire gained new life, roaring behind the screen despite the lack of wood. His features froze in terrified surprise as her misty form, clad in a commoner’s white burial shift, slowly materialized before him. She held him in his chair with the sheer force of her will, reveling in his helplessness as a small boy revels in the pain of the insect he is tormenting. He had looked at her that way once in what seemed a far-off dream.

A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. “Hello dear,” she said in a voice colder than the grave. “We have so much to talk about.”

The old servant walked unsteadily down the hall. The master had not been in his bed when the old man had gone to wake him at dawn, as was his custom. He must have dozed off before the fire again. The master had spent many a solitary evening in his study since his wife’s tragic death and the faithful servant worried for his master’s health.

The fire was only ash as the servant opened the door. He could see the master’s hand resting on the arm of his chair. Shaking his white head, the servant move to wake the master and recoiled in horror.

The handsome features were frozen in a hideous mask of terror; the wineglass remained firmly clasped in his hand. He had the look of one who has gazed beyond death. A pious, superstitious man, the servant quickly made the sign to ward off the spirits whose work this had surely been. Thankfully, he had only a moment to gaze on the horrifying sight before the first gentle rays of dawn touched the frozen figure, shattering master and glass into fine shards that settled on the floor, glinting like frost.

Building a Leader

"Great leaders are born, not made."

Bullshit.

We've all heard this mantra, usually in response to a perceived failure in leadership. It's a convenient excuse because it absolves the person of any responsibility. It's not his or her fault he/she can't lead the way out of a wet paper bag, because leaders are born.

As a society, we must know this isn't true. Why do I say that? Look around and see for yourself. Books, seminars, courses, heck, even entire college degrees exist to make us experts in "leadership." So either, on some level, we know that there is at least something that can be learned about leadership and are fooling ourselves, or we are gullible sheep who spend thousands of dollars to "learn" something that is an inborn trait. And while it is entirely possible for the latter to be true, my money is on the former.

Now, it is true that leadership comes more naturally to some people. And it is also true that some people have a personality that make it easier for them to get followers. But personality and skill are not mutually inclusive. That is, an attractive personality does not make for great leadership. We all know people who are funny, sensitive, good to spend time with, and great at parties who are also awful leaders.

I can also cite at least one person who history has considered a pretty good leader, but who was a real jerk: George Patton. Chances are you've seen the movie with George C. Scott. Patton was a conceited jerk. He really was that abrasive, obnoxious and demanding. And most of the soldiers under his command respected him and considered him a great leader. I remember an account I heard of a soldier who served under Patton during the war and who was a pall bearer at Patton's funeral. He considered it an honor.

So, what is leadership? I mean, clearly this is important stuff, especially in corporate America. Everyone is exhorted to be a leader. There is big "L" leadership (think CEOs and generals), and small "l" leadership (someone, maybe in your company, who does not have a fancy title, but somehow gets everybody moving in the same direction at the same time). It's on annual performance reviews, for crying out loud - the thing most companies use to determine whether or not your going to get a raise this year. But what is it?

For me, it's a bit like pornography: difficult to define, but I know it when I see it.

But I can tell you what it's not: It's not a title, like CEO or COO. Those are "leaders," but they do not necessarily have good leadership skills. Plenty of companies have been dragged under by "leaders" who couldn't get out of the aforementioned wet paper bag. Being granted a title doesn't grant you wisdom.

So think of someone you consider a good leader. I'll give you a few moments. What qualities, in your opinion, make him or her a good leader? Tell you what, I'll give you my list (in no particular order) and we can compare notes.

1. Honesty/Integrity

While I said this list was in no particular order, I cannot imagine honesty, or integrity, not heading the list of leadership qualities. If you can't tell the truth or if people don't believe you are telling the truth, how do you get them to follow you? I don't know a lot of people who would follow a liar. "I can't believe a word she says, but she's really fun a parties, so let's go along with her idea!" Not.

Leaders tell the truth and the truth is often unpalatable. Yeah, nobody wants to hear that your department is failing to do its job. But if that's the truth, well, you need to hear it. Not so you can be blamed or feel guilty, but so you can recognize a need - to get better at your job.

Similarly, a leader has to have personal integrity. A leader puts up his hand and says "That one's my fault" when he is in fact responsible. A leader does not pass off the responsibility to someone else, either above or below her on the corporate food chain. And to be a leader, other people have to believe you have integrity. They have to believe you will put up your hand when appropriate and not pass the buck. It's wonderful if you say, "I have a lot of personal integrity." It's even more wonderful if the guy two cubes over who has to work with you every day can say it.

Think Harry Truman. "The buck stops here." At the risk of sounding like Bill O'Reilly (shudder) if you want to be considered a leader, make your sphere of influence a "no spin zone."

2. Diplomacy

This is the one that gets me every time. Honest is a wonderful thing, and sometimes the truth hurts. But leaders don't hit people over the head with the truth as if it was a baseball bat. There is, in fact, a way to be honest, but to phrase it in such a way that people are not demoralized or feel that you are making a personal attack. Personally, I can be awfully blunt. There is a time for that. There is also a time for diplomacy. Going into a confrontation with all guns blazing is not always the right thing to do, and will not inspire others to follow you. In all likelihood, you will antagonize and alienate people who would otherwise support you. Trust me, I know this one first hand.

Good leaders, most of them, know this. If Patton had a major failing as a leader, it was his struggle to be diplomatic. If Eisenhower had a major accomplishment as a leader, it was his skill at diplomacy. Eisenhower was a mediocre tactician at best. He was a phenomenal diplomat. Who else could have kept Montgomery and Patton from killing each other? The bottom line is that leaders are not bullies. They do not use brute force to convince others, they invite them - and they issue the invitation in such a way that people want to go along.

Important note: diplomacy is not spin. "Spin" takes the facts and twists them so that one party or another looks better. Diplomacy presents the facts in such a way that all parties want to participate in the problem solving.

3. Inspiration/Vision

Leaders almost always have a vision. Somewhere to go, something to do, something to be. And not only do they have a vision, they make other people want to take the trip with them. It's not a personal odyssey. It's an invitation to journey together. A good leader lets people know that not only does she have a plan, she knows how to execute that plan, it is thought out, and that others are an important part of the plan. A leader doesn't talk about how "I" am going to do something. He talks about how "we" are going to do something - and when you listen to him talk, you think "Gosh, that sounds great! Let's go!" A leader can get everybody to move in the same direction at the same time.

Inspiration, like honesty, also doesn't gloss over messy reality. Inspiration can acknowledge the pain that the journey will entail, but still make people want to take it. Because a good vision, and the ability to inspire, makes people believe the pain will be worth it in the end. The sacrifices will be worth it. The value proposition is understood.

After all, who wants to follow someone who has no idea where he is going in the first place, or can't adequately articulate why we want to go there anyway?

4. Respect

Leaders do not demean people. Nobody wants to follow a boor who is constantly telling them how deficient they are, or making them feel inadequate. A leader makes the people following her feel that they are valued members of the team, no matter how big or small the contribution they make. That office admin who made 50 copies of your position paper? A non-leader treats that as something that of course she did because that's her job. A leader acknowledges her contribution and the value she provided by a) taking some of the burden and b) helping to make sure everybody got a copy of the information needed to do the job. A leader says "thank you" and means it.

Nobody is irreplaceable. Any competent person realizes this. But that doesn't mean that everybody shouldn't feel valued.

5. Encouraging

Another thing that's really hard for me. There is a fine line, in my mind, between being genuinely encouraging and being condescending and phony - a rah-rah cheerleader. A good leader can let the team know they are moving in the right direction, despite stumbling blocks, and make people want to continue. They can look at the giant mound of work, say "Wow, that's a giant mound of work - let's get it done!" and folks want to do it. And a leader can look at someone who is trying really, really hard, but not quite getting it done, and both praise them for the effort while offering corrections and tips for what isn't going right.

I am not advocating praise for praise sake just to make people feel better. Contrary to some belief, people can spot a phony a mile away. They will know that they are doing a crappy job and you are pandering to their self esteem. But their is a way to acknowledge "yes, you are not quite doing the job right" without tearing them down - and propping the person up by letting him know you genuinely believe he will get it right.

Good leaders build people up, either by praise for what is being done right or constructive suggestions on what to correct. Leaders do not tear people down - especially not in public.

6. Competency/Intelligence

Good leaders are not dipsticks who can't tie their own shoes. A leader has a certain level of competency, of ability, to do his job. Maybe not your job. But he knows something about the field. If he's a corporate officer, he knows how to run a company. And while he may not know exactly how to code software, or build a plane, or do anything, he is intelligent enough to a) follow what you are saying, b) know when he's over his head, and c) when he needs to learn enough to keep up. A good leader doesn't bluff his knowledge like he's playing poker. He doesn't pretend to know more than he does. He is comfortable admitting that he doesn't know everything and is willing to try to learn. A good leader also knows that he can't possibly know everything, which is why he wants you to be on his team - because you possess knowledge that he doesn't, and he believes you can do the job. He is intelligent enough to recognize talent when he sees it.

A good leader is also smart enough to know when people are smart enough to see through her. She doesn't try to pull a fast one. People who try to pass off one thing as something else, generally come off badly, because the perception is "What, is she so stupid she doesn't think we know better?" Doesn't do much for your standing as a leader.

And finally,

7. Respected

Respect is not a one-way street. A leader not only respects the people on her team, she is respected by them. Why? See all the other attributes on my list. Leaders who have those attributes, generally have the respect of their teams. That doesn't mean they always are in agreement with each other. But you can respect, and follow, someone you don't agree with if you believe he is honest, has integrity, is respectful of you, is intelligent, can be diplomatic, has an inviting vision, and is encouraging of your efforts. It's really hard to follow a blunt incompetent idiot who is a liar, tears you down all the time, and has no respect for your person.

Do I have all these attributes? No - but I'm trying to work on it. I also don't believe leadership is a destination. A good leader never assumes she never has any more work to do in these areas. A leader is always trying to improve.

So take a look around you and ask yourself: Who is leading me and do I want to go there? Where am I trying to lead people and why would they want to follow me?

The answers just might surprise you.

When Private is Public

A few weeks ago, I learned that the 4th grade teacher at my kids' school was not asked to return for the coming school year (which is a shame, because she was a good teacher). The scuttle-butt as I heard it from another parent (gotta love the small-school rumor mill), is that she made disparaging comments about the school and parents in a Facebook status update.

To quote a colleague, "Turns out people can read what you say on the Internet."

The fact is, the Internet has changed personal privacy. Way back in the day, it was harder, although not impossible, to target disgruntled employees. I mean, if you're complaining to friends over dinner in your own home, you can be reasonably sure that the object of your complaint won't know, as long as the person to whom you are complaining doesn't rat you out. After all, while spy-style listening devices look really cool on TV, that sort of thing that common in the general public. Average citizens don't wiretap their employees (we leave that to the Federal government).

The pesky thing about the Internet is this: nothing is really private. Nothing. Once it's out in the ether, it can be found - especially if one is talented, knowledgeable, and diligent enough. And it never really goes away, either. Even if you delete it, the ghost of that email, that photo, or that blog post is still there. Oh yes it is.

But the Internet is also tricksy, my precious. It fools you into thinking what you've posted is private. Web pages let you mark photo albums as private, only to be accessed by invited individuals. You need passwords and ciphers to see account information. Everything sealed behind a steel door, right?

Well, maybe for the average Joe Computer User. We aren't all cipher experts employed by the CIA. For most of us, passwords are just fine. But the reality is that the "steel door" is more like a black curtain. And curtains rip, intentionally or accidentally.

But let's leave the world of cyber-crime aside for the moment, because I'm not really talking about hackers or those nasty people who write malware, or viruses. Because sometimes the more damaging activity comes from a more insidious source: ourselves.

Yeah, you got that right. Us. We do it to ourselves all the time. Our total lack of situational awareness is sometimes more damaging than all the computer nasties out there. Let's take the teacher example. She didn't say it in the privacy of her own home, she said it on Facebook. In front of how many hundreds of her closest "friends." Plus, if her Facebook security wasn't set up properly, her status could be seen by anybody, even non-friends.

But let's assume she did have it set up that status updates were restricted to friends. The school principal is on Facebook. And if they were "friends," well...

You see where this goes. No place good.

Lack of situational awareness. This is why my boss is not a friend on Facebook. And while I do have a couple of work friends there, I try very hard not to post specific rants about work frustrations. Because Facebook isn't private.

Oh yes, I know. Statements made to our Facebook friends shouldn't be used against us. To a certain extent I agree. I've heard stories of teachers being censured or fired because they posted a picture of themselves holding a glass of wine (no joke, my sister knows someone who got in trouble over this). And if the picture is of the teacher at her college reunion with other adults, responsibly enjoying an adult beverage, no, that shouldn't matter. If, on the other hand, the picture is of the teacher at a beach party doing belly shots and there is evidence of underage drinkers, well, "lack of situational awareness" is a bitch.

There is no doubt that Facebook, or the Internet, is a powerful networking tool. You can find jobs, lost college classmates, or information for your kid's school project. But it's all smushed together. And as a co-worker of mine wisely said, humans as a species have not evolved to a point where we are capable of separating these things for ourselves. We need someone to help us help ourselves.

Staying with Facebook, another co-worker said what Facebook really needs are levels or "boxes," so he can have a "personal" box of friends and a "professional" box of friends. And you can kind of do it now, but it's clunky. Because sometimes he says something that he only wants to share with the personal box. And he wants to be reasonably sure (again, this is the Internet), that the people in one box can't open the other box and see what's going on in there. He says it's possible, and since he's a fairly smart computer guy, I believe him. But Facebook isn't there yet. And we humans seem to be incapable of separating our stuff into boxes in our own minds.

Right now, saying something on Facebook, or the Internet in general, is like walking into a noisy, crowded room and shouting. Maybe no one will hear you. Maybe someone will - and it might not be the someone you intended to hear you.

And maybe Mom was right after all. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

Especially on the Internet.