That Time I Was The Outsider

I've wanted to write this story several times before, but I've never been able to get it all down on paper.  In light of the current political climate, it seems more important than ever to tell it now.

The year was 1983.  I was thirteen years old.  My family was living in the town of Cedarburg, Wisconsin.

My parents often felt the need to shield me from difficult discussions because they knew I was a sensitive child.  What I didn't know at that time was that our family was in the midst of a financial crisis.  I didn't really understand then, since I was a kid, but my dad worked as an investment broker, and he had made a very big mistake.  He traded bonds for institutional clients and had made a classic buy/sell error.  In other words, he sold when when his client's intention was to buy.  The fallout came to the tune of $100,000 and he was on the hook for it.

Let me back up for just a moment and describe Cedarburg.  In the early 80's, it had a population of about 6,000 people.  It is located about a 30-minute drive north of Milwaukee and many residents make the commute downtown to work, as my dad did.  It is a typical Midwestern town with limestone buildings, a scenic creek winding through it and a big Catholic church at the end of Washington Avenue (Main Street).

Overall, Cedarburg was a good place to grow up.  We could ride our bikes anywhere without supervision.  Everyone played soccer, which was a big deal because a lot of people in Southeastern Wisconsin have German and Polish roots.  In the summer, we fished in the creek and in winter we ice skated on it.  There was one movie theater with one screen and a new movie every Friday night. Oh, and it was lily white.

Back to the story.  The solution that my parents came up with was out west.  My dad had an acquaintance in the industry that had moved out to Newport Beach, California to manage a branch office for a national wirehouse.  He offered to bring my dad into his office and give him a substantial signing bonus that would be a great deal more than what he owed for the error.  Problem solved!

Well, sort of.  No one in our family had ever moved outside of Wisconsin, with the exception of Illinois.  This was a BIG move away from our family and anything we had ever known.  When I first heard of the plan, I was both excited and scared to death.  The biggest fear in my mind was earthquakes.  I thought they happened all the time and had heard that they were due for the "big one." I was genuinely frightened about it.

The reason for my excitement was that I was ready to be done with Cedarburg.  Despite the idyllic surroundings, I had been bullied in middle school by neighborhood kids and ones that I had played soccer with.  As I mentioned earlier, I was sensitive.  That's what they called it then.  Today, I know it as depression and anxiety. Anyway, I ended up having to go to the school counselor's office several times.  There was even an incident where kids I had grown up with since second grade had planned to get up and leave the lunch table when I came and sat down.  For some reason, I had decided to eat with other kids that day.  I don't think I would have handled it well.  Luckily, we will never know.

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Fast forward a few months to October 6th, 1983.  My mom and I boarded a plane with one-way tickets bound for Long Beach, CA.  My dad had already been there working for a couple months and my sister, Shelly, was away at college.  I had been in high school for just one month.

My parents, obviously, had made the decision to go for it and there was no turning back now.  We stayed for about a week at a hotel and my mom enrolled me at Irvine High School. We moved into a rental house in an area known as Northwood. To put it bluntly, things were very different than I had known.  Really different.  First of all, in Wisconsin, everyone had big yards and no fences.  Here, nobody had a big yard and everyone had cinder block fences between every single house. They were crammed so close together.  There was the smell of oranges and eucalyptus trees everywhere. I didn't know what a "planned community" was. Turns out that Irvine was the world's largest planned community, at least at the time. No Main Street, just strategically placed strip malls and every neighborhood had a name like The Ranch or College Park.

The surprises did not stop when I started school.  Irvine High School seemed mammoth to me.  It was like a college campus, not a high school.  The students ate their lunches outside!  In Wisconsin, where winter temps can go below zero, we did not eat lunch outside.  Also, they gave you these tiny lockers that were outside and you had to share them.  This all seemed just nuts to me.

I thought really hard about what I should wear to my first day at school.  I went with an REO Speedwagon concert t-shirt, blue corduroy pants and checkerboard Vans.  Needless to say, that is not what Californians wear to school.  Checkerboard Vans were already passé and no one would be caught dead in the other stuff.  Bermuda shorts were in style and many of the boys sported bowl cuts with dyed blonde hair on top. In my case, the mullet didn't help either.  I didn't even know it was called a mullet.  In Wisconsin, we called that a haircut. This was long before the internet and it took time for new trends to reach the Midwest.

The final surprise was the biggest one and what this story is really all about.  My school in the Midwest had maybe one African-American student.  It seemed to me on that first day that Irvine High School had kids from every nationality on Earth.  That's not exactly true, but a lot of nations were represented, mostly from Asia.

To recap, I had just moved halfway across the country.  The Caucasian kids dressed in a way I had not experienced before and I had never been in such a multi-cultural environment. I felt like an outsider in my own country.  Don't misunderstand though, I wasn't angry about it, I was just overwhelmed because it was all so new.

There were kids with heritages from China, Japan, South Korea, Vietnam, The Philippines, Thailand, India and, of course, Mexico and Central America.  At first, I was lost but I was smart enough to join the marching band.  It was generally students with Asian backgrounds that first started to help me assimilate to my new environment.  They went so far as to invite me over to dinner with their families.  I learned that I needed to remove my shoes before entering the house.  I learned of new foods like curry and that there are things called garbanzo beans or chickpeas.

Gradually, things started to improve.  There was a group of boys who had aspirations to join the tennis team.  I started practicing with them at a park after school.  This group is where I started to make real friendships, some of whom I'm still in contact with today.  They were and are an ethnically diverse group.  Today, they are doctors, chefs, business executives and more.  But, mostly doctors, haha.

These were first and second generation Americans who came to this country via immigration or were refugees from Vietnam.  For what it's worth, I went to my junior prom with a girl from Vietnam along with her twin sister and my friend Perry, who is Filipino.  We had a great time except their parents wanted them home by midnight.

My family ended up living in the Irvine/Newport Beach area for about a decade.  I still count that as one of the best decades of my life.  I learned so much about myself and also about the kindness of others.  These young people didn't have to help me become part of the community, but they did, and I am forever grateful for it.

The current administration's policies are trying to destroy all of these good things that immigrants bring to our country and I believe we can't let that happen.

My story is a perfect reason why.

Editor's note: I subsequently worked with my father for two decades.  There were no more $100,000 errors on my watch.

Is Rock Music Dead?

Angus Young of AC/DC, courtesy of Zumic,com

When my parents used to take us on road trips back in the 1970's, we would most likely listen to Chicago's WLS radio because it seemed like their signal went on forever. They played Styx, Steve Miller, Kansas and on and on. To this day, the Doobie Brothers' 'Black Water' still reminds me of driving from our home near Milwaukee down to my grandma's in Janesville, about a 2-hour drive past endless farmland and lots of barns.  

The funny thing is, when I turn on rock radio today, I still hear the exact same songs. The difference between today's rock radio and "classic" rock radio is minimal at best. Just insert the Foo Fighters, Soundgarden and Nirvana and there you have it. Outside of Van Halen and Motley Crue, the decade of the 80's doesn't seem well represented at all.  

Today's concert tours are chock full of bands from the 70's and 80's who are unbelievably still on the road.  Don't get me wrong, I love that music, and the nostalgia it brings to mind sometimes gets me all misty-eyed.  

I guess my point is, is there any "real" rock music being produced today?  You know the kind, not just heavy guitar, but with great arrangements and long intros and outros. Melodic, not pounding. Never-ending dual guitar solos. Songs that stand the test of time.  

I realize that I am middle-aged and rarely do different generations agree on what great rock music is. I also realize that music evolves over time. But, if the music of my childhood and young adulthood is still good enough to play on radio now, why isn't it good enough to make more of it?  

Music from generations past still moves me.  The Beatles and the Stones sound as great as ever. Motown gets my hips moving, and stuff from the Woodstock era evokes a feeling like I was there at Max Yasgur's farm, even though I was born just ten days earlier.  But, today's music to me feels like "throw-away" music, like I doubt anyone will be listening to Mastodon or Kanye or whoever else many years from now.  

Perhaps I'm not looking in the right places. Musicians are just as much, or more talented, today as they ever were. The technology to produce great music is better than ever. Maybe I'm just missing it.  

Mr. Know-It-All

Back when I was in my 20's and 30's, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was making pretty decent money. I was a husband and a dad with a nice home and perfect credit. I was very proud of my lawn, and even more proud of myself. I thought because I had success, that meant I knew everything about everything. I was always right, no matter what and smug about it too.

Then, as happens with most people who know everything, I got punched in the face. Hard. And I reeled, like few have reeled before. I won't go into the details because I've laid them pretty bare in the past. Suffice it to say that I went from having everything to having nothing at all.

Now that I have finally gotten back up and dusted myself off a bit, and as time and distance have unclouded my memory and judgement, I can reflect on what I've learned. Chief among those is that I DON'T KNOW A GOD DAMN THING ABOUT ANYTHING.

There is a certain freedom to be gained from screwing up royally (although I don't recommend this methodology). You lose the burden of having to worry about how everyone else lives their lives. How can you judge someone else when you have to look in the mirror every morning? It is extremely liberating.

It has definitely changed my relationships with my kids. They are well aware of their father's past and I don't want to hide it from them. I was pretty hard on them when they were younger, maybe because that's what I thought I was supposed to do. Now, when they make a mistake, as all kids do, I (hope) I approach the issue more from a place of compassion and understanding, rather than a place of anger. Also, I hope they can tell the difference.

If I could go back and change the past and do things differently, I definitely would. But, however circuitous the path, I've gained a perspective that I probably never would have had and I'm grateful for that.

A Regular Guy's Journey With Depression

I think most people were shocked and saddened to head of the passing of Robin Williams earlier this week, and I was no different.  Tributes have abounded all over the internet and television.  For good reason, he touched a lot of lives with his comedy and movie roles.  To be honest, I enjoyed his work as a dramatic actor much more than the stream-of-consciousness comedy routines that strayed all over the map.  Perhaps it was because I couldn't keep up and felt winded after watching him.

What hit people the hardest was how he died.  Depression.  Suicide.  Wow.  How could someone who was world famous and universally beloved do this to himself?  I certainly can't answer that but to say that I'm not necessarily surprised.  With a long history of substance abuse and depression, maybe he just didn't want to fight it any longer.

Robin Williams' struggle has brought a lot of attention to the disease over the last few days, which ultimately I think is a good thing.  According to the CDC, one in ten adults in the United States have reported depression of varying degrees.  I happen to fall within that 10%.  I was not diagnosed until my 20's but I'm pretty sure I've had the symptoms my entire life.  After all, I had to go visit with the school counselor as far back as middle-school.

It was my ex-wife Tracy that finally made me go to the doctor, and she was determined to go sit in there with me to make sure he knew all the things that were going on.  I will always be indebted to her for that. Anyway, since that time I have tried every single antidepressant on the market.  Some have worked better than others, while some have had terrifyingly negative effects (afraid of my own shadow, suicidal thoughts).  I have also tried going without and the consequences of that were not good at all, to say the least.  I have also had plenty of therapy over the years, psychologists, psychiatrists and even Emotions Anonymous.  Yes, that's a thing.

What is it like living with depression on a daily basis?  First, let me say that there are good periods and bad. The good periods can last for a few weeks or even months where things are going fairly well and I can cope. Then there are other stretches that are dark and seemingly never end.  They often begin with some sort of life challenge, doesn't really matter if it's big or small.  It's akin to jogging down a path and stumbling over a rock; sometimes it takes a very long time to get up and get moving again.  The feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness crowd out any other thoughts.  The tension becomes so elevated that it feels like my body is tingling with electricity.  I can't see straight.  Outwardly, it may not be noticeable, but the demons flying through my body and brain are relentless.  "You're a burden to your family and friends.  You've never accomplished anything.  You're not good enough or smart enough to get that new job.  You couldn't make a good decision if your life depended on it."  Et cetera.

The result of this typhoon of feelings and emotions is extreme lethargy.  I cannot get out of bed in the morning and I want to go to sleep again right after work to escape.  It's easier not to do anything than to try and do something and fail.  Ultimately, I wonder why am I here?  What purpose do I serve?  I want and desperately need relief.

Luckily for me, I have a good support system in place.  My girlfriend Lauren Hines is an extremely understanding soul.  When I'm down and going through rough patches, she doesn't push it.  She let's me be until the storm cloud passes and then asks if I want to talk about it.  My parents don't really understand even though they want to, and my kids are great.  Very supportive.  Their smiles and accomplishments are a wonderful pick-me-up.

I know I am not alone in this battle.  There are many, many others who simply prefer to keep it to themselves. I've never been very good at keeping things to myself, so thank you to those of you that read this for letting me get it off my chest.  I really appreciate it.

The Job Hunt

Looking for a new job is never fun, and in this day and age it is downright painful.

America is in the midst of an economic recovery, I think.  After all, according to the BLS there were 175,000 new jobs created in the month of February.  Also, the stock market is making new all-time highs on a daily basis.  Everyone is fat and happy, right?  We are living in the golden age of prosperity!

Um, no.  I don't think that is quite accurate.  I am not trying to make a political statement in any way, but it's tough out there.  In case you didn't know, I am a stockbroker.  At least that's what I tell everyone.  It's easier than saying I'm an institutional fixed-income broker who also does commodities.  For those that don't know, fixed-income means bonds.  I work on straight commissions and have done so since 1995.

Ever since the collapse of Lehman Brothers and the financial carnage that ensued starting back in 2008, my business has gotten smaller and smaller each year.  After every single financial crisis, the same thing happens: more regulation.  I don't have a problem with regulation, because I don't believe I run a business that flouts the rules.  However, for clients it means more scrutiny of every counter-party (me) they use.  It means they have to construct bullet-proof paper trails for every trade they do, and it means not being able to direct business to a broker they like or get useful information from.  In the end, it means fewer trades for me and smaller commission on those.

I was never big time.  Not sure I ever really wanted to be.  But, I made a good living and was able to take care of my family and even take a vacation now and then.  That was then.  Now, I can barely eke out enough to pay my child support and alimony, let alone have much left over for myself.  While it is true that I'm complaining right now, I realize that I am much better off than many, and for that I am grateful.

I have come to the realization that I need to find something new, that I can't make a living doing this anymore. But, I'm 44 years old!  What the hell am I going to do?  I want to go in another direction, but what?  I don't think I can stay afloat doing crossword puzzles and playing trivia games.  I certainly don't think I'm going to make the PGA Tour anytime in the next millennium.

So, that brings me to the job hunt.  Like dating and so many other things, the process of finding a new job or career has changed so much over the last decade.  In the online dating world, at least they get to kick the tires before they decide they're not interested.  But, the job hunt is a nameless, faceless abyss.  You get an account on Monster or Careerbuilder (or both), you fill out your profile and upload resume and hope for the best.

I would love to be looking for my dream job, but right now I'm just looking for something that I'm qualified for and can pay the bills.  The process works like this.  You find a position that seems remotely interesting and click "apply".  And instead of the company using the profile and resume you had already meticulously created, you get to join ABC Co.'s talent network!  Yay!!!!!  That means you have to enter all of that information over again, and since every big company has a "talent network" now, you have to repeat the process for each and every application.

Only then does the fun really begin.  I like to call it "the wait".  You get the email that says you have successfully applied for Jr. Fixed-Income Analyst at ABC Co., and you better the hell not contact us again. We will contact you!  (If we're interested, which we probably aren't and so we're just going to leave you hanging until you have exactly zero self-esteem left.)  Signed, Anonymous HR Department.

I bet those HR people really get a big kick out of the whole thing.  You just know they're sitting at the bar of some swanky restaurant after work, tipping back an appletini and cackling with delight.  Oh sure, that schmuck Jeff Hettinger thinks he's qualified to work for us?!  Ha!  Well, we're just going to wait about 3 months before we send him the form rejection email.  That'll teach 'em.

So, here I sit at my desk, during the work day, writing a blog post about my struggle to find a new job.  It's really more than that though.  I used to have an identity.  I was suburban father of three who loved to work on his yard.  Ever since my divorce, I feel like I've lost my identity.  I want to have one again, something to strive for.  A goal.

I would be lying if I didn't say I'm feeling dejected about this whole process.  I feel like I'm in the prime earning years of my life right now and that I have so much to offer an employer.  It's also very hard not to take it personally.  I've never had the best self image and it's all I can do to try and stay positive.

The hunt continues...

My Experience in the Blizzard of 2014

I had seen the forecasts for days ahead of time.  The Deep South was going to be hit on Tuesday with a rare snow storm that could drop as much as 5 inches of snow from Louisiana to the Carolinas.  Locally, the focus was much more on the areas south of Atlanta.  In fact, TV meteorologists were saying that Atlanta proper and the northern suburbs would maybe get an inch of snow, if we were lucky.

So, I went to work as normal on Tuesday, as did everyone else.  I was a little bit surprised that area schools had not been shuttered for the day.  After all, they had been closed on previous occasions for a lot less, including two weeks ago for extremely cold temperatures.  I could understand that because you don't want children who may be improperly dressed standing out at the bus stop at 7:30 in the morning with temps in the single digits.  On this occasion, it seemed reasonable to me that schools stay open as the forecast didn't really call for any accumulation until late in the afternoon and only a dusting at that.

I was at my desk when the flakes started to fall around noon.  The office I work in with my father has a great view of a wooded wetlands area out in back of the building.  There was a herd of maybe a dozen deer frolicking (and some humping) out there in the weather.  They were enjoying it and the view was like a picture postcard (except the humping).  We don't get snow events here very often, so most people take it as an opportunity to spend fun time with kids and have a mini winter vacation.  After all, surely school would be closed on Wednesday and the kids would pull out the sleds, or boxes, or whatever they could find, and have a great time.  Or so I thought.

The view from my office today

My first inclination of trouble was when my dad tried giving me a ride home around 2:30.  We could barely get out of the subdivision.  There were cars blocking the intersection on North Point Parkway and it didn't really register with me then.  We only made it another quarter mile before I realized I was going to have to get out and walk.  I had expected that the freeways would be jammed because that's what always happens when people are trying to leave work early for a holiday or a long weekend.  But the surface streets?  Never seen anything like it.

I took it as an opportunity to embrace the weather.  It wasn't that cold and my mom's apartment was nearby, so I went there and put on my warmest winter duds.  I pulled out a ski-jacket that had a lift ticket still attached to it from Heavenly in 2004.  The walk was only a mile from there and I took my time, waving and talking to motorists who were inching along the roadway.  It was fun.

It wasn't until I got back to my girlfriend Lauren's house in Willow Springs that I began to understand the scope of the mess.  We turned on the local news and they were showing pictures of massive gridlock everywhere in the metro area.  I started to see Facebook messages from friends who had been stuck on the road for hours.  Little did I know that some of these folks wouldn't get home for another 20 hours!  As the night wore on, many just started abandoning their cars and walking home.  They were so frustrated that they didn't care how many miles it took.  The residents of the state of Georgia have never gotten so much exercise!

Around 9:30 PM, Lauren and I decided to venture out to Haynes Bridge Road to see what was going on. We had a hard time doing even that because the sheet of ice on her street was a half inch thick.  When we got out to the intersection it was chaos.  There were abandoned cars littering the sides of the road.  There was an accident involving a Fedex truck and stranded school buses.  Lots of people were walking.  Many with briefcases and many with cases of beer.  Area residents were directing traffic as there wasn't a policeman to be found.  The word surreal is used way too often today, but the scene was just that.  We skidded home on the ice, poured a glass of wine and watched disaster movies for the rest of the night.

Yesterday, we all had time to reflect on what had transpired on Tuesday.  As the last people were being rescued from their cars and the last children were finally being picked up from school, or buses and fire stations.  The local and national media were blasting the Atlanta city government and the State of Georgia. We were viewed as a national joke and the epitome of "wussiness".

There is no question that we could and should have been more prepared.  However, as the blame game continues, I wonder how much more could have been done.  The forecasts were not terribly accurate and the school systems acted on the information they had.  And the fact is, we live in the South.  Should we really invest a lot of money in more salt trucks and plows for something that only occurs every few years?  It doesn't make sense to me.  This was really a perfect storm of bad timing and bad luck.  If anything, it showed how we work together as human beings to help each other out.  Heck, Lauren's son Wes used his truck to tow 8 people he didn't know before finally rescuing his girlfriend and getting home at 2 AM.

We can all learn from this, but we should be applauding ourselves and our resolve.