My dad wrote this poem in 1973. The holiday doesn’t apply to much of the world: the sentiment does.

Christmas 1973

Christmas this year

Should cost at least

A thousand dollars.

It should be

In the Ideal Bar & Grill

On 163^rd and St. Nicholas

Waiting for the first

Tattered little boy

To come in selling

Tomorrow’s morning papers

Roughing up his hair,

Giving all his papers away

And giving him

A hundred dollar bill

It should be

Walking through the Bowery,

Finding the drunk

Shivering in the dark doorway

And giving him,

Instead of a religious tract

Or lecture,

A hundred dollar bill.

It should be walking,

Down

Beale Street

,

Stopping the first

Poor black child,

Giving him a smile

And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be

In Albuquerque.

Not a donation to a fund,

But taking the time to find

The sad-eyed Chicano child,

Taking him to a toy store

And letting him run riot.

Picking up the tab, the toys

And him.

To take them to

Wherever or to whatever

His home may be,

And leaving him the change

Of a hundred dollar bill.

It should be in San Diego

Out on the wharf,

With the old fisherman

Who mends nets

Because the tuna

Don’t run for him Anymore.

A “Vaya con Dios”

And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be

In a Santa Monica Bar,

Smiling at the tired barmaid

Who came to the coast

To be a star

And only found reality,

Giving her conversation, Respect,

And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be in

A Nob Hill restaurant.

Giving the maitre d’

A smile. And the busboy,

Who no one has noticed

All year,

A hundred dollar bill.

It should be

With a little old lady

In San Francisco’s

Mission Street

 

Selling flowers, Late at night

In the Tenderloin

Taking all her

Wilted posies,

Giving her a kiss

And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be

In Seattle’s skid row

Down near the Totem Pole

In

Pioneer Square

,

Giving the startled
Indian panhandler

A measure of returned pride

And a handshake

And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be the last saved

For the thief

Anywhere,

Who needs it worse

Than anyone,

Not just the money

But the need to

Be superior to someone.

Let him steal from me

A hundred dollar bill.

But most of all…

To have any value at all,

Let Christmas Day find me

Broke,

With empty pockets

Hanging inside out,

Still

In

Love

With

Man.

By Robert H. Harbridge

1973

My eyes hurt. There is one particular muscle that has been over-used that I fear may leave me blind. Each time someone in the business world says the words “Elevator Pitch” I automatically roll my eyes. It is a repeated and learned response from a business buzzword that needs to be put in the wood chipper. (Said in the same voice as the pregnant police woman in Fargo.)

Last time I noticed, people do not talk in the elevator. There is that incredibly scintillating and interesting display of numbers fabulously back lit in red.. sometimes green. We stand in the elevator and watch the numbers with such profound interest. (Except the weird woman with the Crayola red hair, she makes it her personal commitment to talk in the elevator. That woman is me- avoid 221 Main at all costs!)

I know I know. It is a “saying” - Elevator Pitch. I get the concept. Just like most things in our culture- the original idea has been diluted with so much practice that the shine has worn off the rose. I listen to people “stay on message” so well that they appear to be devoid of all passion and feeling as they perfectly roll the phrases off their tongue.

The kiss of death, really. If a person is not interested in what they do: certainly no one else will be either. I was talking with a dear friend of mine today about life, business.. being a mom… changing the world. You know, little things.

I must have written down 7 pithy sayings that could message my company. The free flow of conversation and interpersonal exchange influenced my ability to create new ways of describing my daily experiences. Contrast this telephone call to the PARALYZATION I feel trying to write the opening paragraph on my company website.

It hit me. Inhibition. We realize how critical communication is, individually and organizationally, and thus the inverse relationship between the importance of the conversation and the creativity. (Of course throw into the mix the permanence of the statement and the inability to offer additional thoughts.)

Most moms out there have used the phrase, “Use your words” to their toddlers. The same apoplexy that attacks us before our molars come in is the same inhibition that keeps an intelligent team member from telling the “CEO the baby is ugly”.

Where am I going with this blog.. I rarely know. It just seems to me tonight that this desire to have everything wrapped up in a nice and neat little bow, so we know EXACTLY where to cut the bottom of the box so we can extract the toy surprise with out dipping our hands in the sugar, is causing us to lose something.

Next time you are in the elevator and someone is interested enough to ask you what you do… (Sure, like that will happen) trust that the elevator will get to its destination even if you are not looking at the numbers… and answer them in a creative way. Try something new. When uninhibited it is incredible the perfect words we create.

Don’t trust me… trust yourself- in that wonderful brain of yours is the next “Can you hear me now?”

In terms of full disclosure: do understand that I hate elevator pitches largely due to the fact that I am unable to craft a good one.

Ciao

Last night I introduced yet another youngster to the endless fun of “BLIZZARD IN A BUCKET.” My friend Mark told me that the stuff is what they put in diapers… and expands to 10 or 100 times it size or something like that. (I am not a numbers gal.. I heard the expand part.. not the number part.)

We played with this white powder turned giant ice crystals for hours. Fun. What is super cool about it - is it will dry out only to be used again. (My husband missed this part of the directions. this will make more sense in a moment.) For ever. Or you can freeze it and keep it looking like snow.

After our dinner party, we were tired. We decided to do the dishes in the morning. I left the bucket full of blizzard on the kitchen table. hubby got up early to clean up. (yes, I am lucky) I hear this scream. I figure it is nothing to worry about and do not run down to see what is up.

Husband is always telling me that the toilet has a 4inch pipe and the kitchen sink has a 1inch pipe. If ya have to throw something down a drain - choose the potty. The scream? Husband dumped the entire Blizzard in a Bucket in the toilet… it expanded up over the top and on to the floor.. SNOW! in the bathroom.

Kind of like the BLOB .. a cheap horror film. Later in the day we had someone working on our sewer system.. connecting and disconnecting.. moving things. You can write the rest of this blog.

happy day!

I served man kind today. I did my part. There is this little spring in my step as I realize the good I have done.

I served you specifically. I gave 3 hours of my time to a focus group interested in selling directly to CEO’s. (Of course, I am not a CEO, I am an entrepreneur. There is a major difference but heck, they didn’t realize there was a weirdo in the room until I opened my mouth.)

In the Clift Hotel is the lovely sun room. It is fabulous on the 15th flloor if you ever have the chance. Within this deck is a yummy room piled high with marketing folks from large corporations. Did I say Large.. I meant behemouth like Bank of America…Cisco… Apple. The earnestness in the room could be cut with a knife. Very respectful and maybe a tad bit bored. There wasn’t a lot of pencil sharpening following my words.

I spoke of blogs. Of the new communication reality. I have talked of it in my blogs before: We live in a reality television culture.

Folks watch tv every night (not all folks.. some of you read blogs) and we like games, levity, entertainment and mostly relationship. We want to know more about folks then maybe they want to tell.. and we want the story. Uh, now.

I tend to disagree with current thought just on principle. I thought of this little communication reality so I really believe it right now. Get back wth me in a few months and I will have moved on to something else.

The human relationship is the true currency. It resounded in this room as well. My little sentence that I thought up over a diet coke and Top Ramen dinner back in 1993.

The marketeers asked me to compare and contrast a good biz relationship and one gone bad. OOOOH my hand went up! I have one- TODAY I tried for the 16th time to move my websites from Register.com to GoDaddy.com

GoDaddy is amazing. There phone number is on their website at least 3 times… so no matter where you are in the navigation pane you can get a live human fogging a mirror on the phone. They are plain speaking folks who do not look down on ya cuz you ask them how to use the handy cup holder your computer came with. (old joke.. whatever, it is still funny)

In order to transfer my website, I had to get an authorization code from Register.com. The paperwork and hurdles was more work than when my husband and I did fertility treatments- I thought that process was filled bureaucracy.

Now, I get whey Register.com wants to force people to telephone them to get the code. they want to try and talk ya out of it. AND they make it difficult so that folks do not switch from them. They had me another year becuz last time i just gave up. There are only certain hours you are allowed to call these folks AND they have likely sold your domain off to someone else. I had 3 domains and had to make 3 calls to make it happen. Oh, mind you, they did offer to transfer me once- and I sat on hold for 30 minutes. I thought, now that is a long queue.. so I hung up and dialed again and got someone right away.

Then, they give you the authorization code and it doesn’t work. If Register.com sends you an authorization code.. do not copy and paste it.. it doesn’t work with the spaces in it.

4 more days and my transfer will be complete. Voila!

Driving along 19th today, I stopped at the light right next to my old school San Francisco State University. Each time I drive by this place, I focus my attention on the school- looking for the young shiny faced me rushing to class. I had my business full time and went to school full time and drove a 2 hour (one way) commute. I often wonder how I did it. Clearly I didn’t need to sleep.

For some reason, I turned to the left. I rarely do. In fact, I can quite honestly say I never do. Up on the elevated platform for Muni was a sign to all patrons “NO RADIOS” beneath it, they had later painted “NO TAPES”

I chucked to myself for about 10 minutes. Exactly who carries tapes around anymore? Is this an 8-track. Did they realize 10-years ago that they needed to add “NO CD’s”. When will they think of I-Pods. Their rules are so focused on the element in hand rather than the experience they wish to avoid. (Audible music or noise) Instead of presenting the idea a reasons for it, they simply try to create a trite rule to augment human behavior.

I watch corporations do this. I actually read an article in a business magazine last week that claimed boss’es had to be one part mean. That by being a nice boss, folks will not do their best. I couldn’t believe it. There is a difference between commitment and compliance. Folks work well for mean people when they are watching.. then…. who knows.

This looped me around to the who perspective discussion again. Each person on the planet has a bias. Every person. Our experience has made us look at things the way we do. We must stop discounting the bias and why we are that way. We must start helping each other SEE that we have a bias and help to address it. For the individual- not the collective.

A few years ago I took a bias test. I scored unbiased when it came to race, religion, sexual orientation, etc. What shocked me is it showed I am biased toward old people. That I see them as week. What? My dad was in a nursing home- I spent one weekend a month in Nevada hanging out with old people. I thought they were cool.

After going to see someone about it- it turns out I had a fairly serious bias. EVERY single human in my family over the age of 55 became ill and weak. I saw aging as becoming weaker. The cure? Hang out with some vibrant, non-nursing home, old people. This does not mean I do not love the connections I made with the disabled and ill in nursing homes, they have more to teach us than those of us racing around at top speed, what I needed to do was rewire my bias. Get a handle on it.

Which leads me back to No Radios. Rather than rules, we need values. Not the values that folks put up on a platform and not a 72-page office policy. It takes more time and effort- and the results are astounding.