Gardening Tales: A Lesson in Futility

July 6, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Since we moved into our house last year, I’ve been trying to mold the pathetic little plot of Earth my family lives on into something presentable. It has been one backbreaking trial after another. If you’ve ever seen our yard, you know the best thing for it would be to ask God to start over. It’s a crumbling hillside, dropping thirty feet from the back of the house to a pond. Somebody has built several retaining walls out of wood and stone, all of which are seconds from total failure. Daylilies and Hosta sprout from every crack, in full battle with some of the worst weeds in the world, Bindweed and Japanese Knotweed. Grapevines and ancient roses look on from their precarious perch. Above another wall that holds back the driveway, which I might add is on the wrong side of the house, a garden of stuff I actually want grows hidden from the world under overgrown oak trees. Peonies, Iris, Sedum and Lilac.

And the stones. Granite stones are everywhere! I can’t put a shovel in the ground without hitting something hard, and it usually turns out to be a brick, a cobblestone, or a chunk of concrete. Somebody saw fit to bury these things long ago, where they could be found by my lawnmower blades. So I’ve been digging them up, only to discover that they look terrible just about everywhere, as retaining walls or edgers. What to do? Pile them somewhere until I can decide where they will be least offensive.

I should point out that this house was a foreclosure, and the previous owners put a ton of work into the place in an effort to ‘flip’ the place. The flipping craze went on like a game of musical chairs, until the music stopped and millions were left without a way to pay for the dead real estate they were now stuck with. So everything the previous owners did to the land reeks of desperation. They dropped red mulch everywhere. White pebbles were dumped in front of the house in an effort to create a landscape. Red brick edgers (yes, to hold back the red mulch) were built everywhere, and Arborvitae were planted in front of the windows. Arborvitae! These are for screening yards to block the view, not for covering up houses.

When the wrong ideas strike the mind of a moron, the result is catastrophe. That’s what this place is, a horticultural catastrophe. The place would make Martha Stewart throw her trowel in the air and stomp away.

But not me. I’m a moron too, so despite the futility, I have been digging the place up and trying to make it look at least a little better. It took a year to decide what to do, but I finally have the grand plan. I got rid of the red mulch and brick edgers. I removed as many stones as I could find and piled them in the front yard. I raked all of the white gravel into a pile and removed the front lawn. That’s right, I hand-dug up all the sod in the front yard with a shovel and transferred it to the lower lawn, where it was needed to cover rocks and concrete from an old foundation. The hollow underneath an old greenhouse is now flat, and grapevine has been removed from a tier of daylilies. With the cinder blocks and granite boulders I dug up, I built another retaining wall to hold a garden of annuals and vegetables, and transplanted sedum into the cracks. I planted the front yard with juniper and euonymus, in a bed of kinnickinnick and black mulch.

I am nearly done with the new driveway in front of the house. I decided to take every granite rock I could find and use them for the driveway. Every job has more than one goal: Rocks that don’t belong in the lower yard are moved to the driveway while dirt from the driveway is used to rebuild the lower yard. Mulch that looks terrible in front of the house is used for compost.

The result: The front yard is now worth looking at while the garden tiers are turning into something useful. The top tier is a vegetable garden, the second tier is wildflowers, the third tier is daylilies and sedum, and the lowest tier is sunflowers. And alyssum. The lower lawn will be seeded with grass and clover over buried Dutch Crocuses. The Iris in the back driveway will move to the front yard while the Peonies will move to the wildflower garden. That leaves an overgrown rose garden and a sloping section by the pond. I haven’t decided what to do with these just yet.

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Adventures in Business

June 2, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Chapter 1: Applying the Lessons of Financial Disaster

For the last several years, I have experienced just about every financial disaster that can happen to a person. You’ve heard about mass layoffs, business failures, foreclosures, and bankruptcies. Families going through these situations feel extreme hopelessness and fear, and they come out on the other end somewhat different. A lot of their experiences are common. They all heard bosses say things will turn around. They all heard TV pundits call them whiners. They all heard friends and family tell them they were being pessimistic, that it can’t really be that bad, that they were just angry, and that they should get a grip.

I heard these words, and it chafed every time. For me, the only upside to today’s global economic collapse is that I went through this four years ago, and am not part of today’s downward spiral. Now, I can simply point to the television and say “See? I wasn’t making this up.”

That puts me in a unique position to share what I have learned.

I don’t offer these stories as someone who has been wildly successful in business. I am not coming from above the tenuous situation a lot of workers are in right now. I come from within it.

This series will illustrate my experiences and the lessons I took from them. Everybody who has been through a personal financial disaster has something to share from their experiences. That’s why it isn’t hard to find advice that will tell you to cut back spending, find a support network, and above all, stay positive.

I don’t see the need to repeat that advice. Much of it is common sense. And as for staying positive, you will have moments of absolute despair. It is not unhealthy. It would be unhealthy not to feel desperate, given the circumstances. It is healthy to share this feeling, and not hide it, with those who are close to you. It is also healthy to feel differently about things after the smoke clears.

There really is no going back. Your new experiences will become a permanent part of your personality. We are all the sum of our experiences, good and bad. What we take from these experiences, and what positive things we can do with that information, is what matters.

I guess that’s the first lesson.

I’ll tell you about me, and what I’ve been through. Or, what my family has been through, since my wife was and is always present in these experiences. A spouse is someone we need – As Susan Sarandon’s character says in “Shall We Dance” – to be a witness to our lives.

During the past decade, I have been part of at least 6 startup companies. None of them became a household name or an Internet sensation. These companies were more realistic. Some continued on to become marginally-sustainable businesses, while others crashed and burned completely. All of them brought new lessons about business how-to, and how-to-not.

In this series, I will discuss:

- Run For Shelter: How to see a layoff coming
- The Perfect CEO: What personalities and backgrounds make a good business leader
- Pick a Winner: How to guess whether a company will survive a crisis
- Patching the Quilt: How to craft a sensible resume from the shards of a career
- Climbing Back: The keys to building a sustainable business

The next few years will make or break the livelihoods of many who have been trampled by the recent economic meltdown. What government does will play a role, as will what investors and business leaders do. After that, there are social changes, global threats, and even weather events. How these affect us will be out of our hands. Our minds were never designed to worry about everything. As individuals, we should only worry about what we can control.

That’s lesson two.

This is offered in the spirit of building a better community for people in the workforce and who are temporaily out of it. For those who are lucky enough to still be in a job, I will cover the ways to see a layoff coming.

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How Not To Buy A Foreclosure

April 21, 2009 · Leave a Comment

To most homebuyers looking to buy a foreclosed house, I offer this single tip: Don’t.

Whether you are a first-time buyer interested in something cheap or an experienced handyman looking for a fixer-upper, a foreclosure probably looks like a fascinating opportunity. It might seem like a tremendous deal compared to similar houses in the neighborhood. The bank that has failed to sell it for over a year might offer a quick deal if you can meet their criteria. You’ve heard of 3500 square foot mansions selling for five digits. Every day, the news bleats another story about falling prices and low interest rates. In a normal setting, all of these stories paint a portrait of a strong buyer’s market.

But with such a large proportion of foreclosed homes on the market, all is not normal. Foreclosed houses may not have been taken care of in a long time. In New England, a large portion of the housing stock is made up of old balloon frame models built in the 19th century. A hundred winters have ravaged the timbers and assaulted the foundations. Without regular yearly upkeep, a house in New England’s climate can quickly reduce to a pile of wood.

If you’ve ever driven the back roads of Maine or Vermont, you’ve seen the weathered, dilapidated barns slowly being reclaimed by nature. These barns were built to last, using post and beam construction, with steel-reinforced mortise-and-tenon joints, and lumber of pine and spruce that stood for centuries as trees. But as barns, without regular repair, they fail within decades.

A foreclosed house does not even have to sit empty while it crumbles. While the previous owners of a foreclosed house were fighting with the bank and struggling to keep groceries in the cupboards, what is the likelihood that they installed the lally columns in the basement, repointed the chimney or replaced the leaky pipes in the ceiling?

A buyer of a foreclosed house in New England should be more than just a handyman, or even a contractor who believes that some new drywall will do the trick. A buyer of a foreclosed house had better be ready for the following: terminated gas pipes without a cap, burst water pipes hidden in the walls, rotten sill timbers, massive termite infestations, unfinished kitchens and bathrooms, non-working heating systems, cracked foundations, mold and fungus, tax liens, crumbling retaining walls, shorted electrical circuits, load-bearing walls removed, doors and windows nailed shut, unfinished removations, broken glass and burned areas from local teens throwing parties, and possibly massive damage caused by the previous owners throwing a tantrum.

I have seen all of this when dealing with foreclosures. And that’s not even the biggest downside. Though banks have taken ownership of more and more houses through foreclosure, they have yet to figure out exactly how to sell them. Selling homes is not their business, and they are terrible at it. Bankers do not communicate in a timely manner with your agent or broker, they often demand draconian terms, they do not honor even the slightest contractual arrangements, they do not make exceptions, and they do not care about your schedule. They do not have another home to move into, but you will sweat the deal until the keys are in your hand.

That is why, to most homebuyers, I repeat: Don’t.

But if you are ready for a year or two of nightmares, can stomach the refusals and changing mood of the bankers, have a lot of extra money to spend on repairs, are not trying to flip the house quickly, have somewhere else to live while you bring the foreclosure up to livability, can take a lot of ribbing from friends, and are good with a hammer, saw, paintbrush, monkeywrench, sump pumps, roofing, siding, bricks and mortar, glazing, plaster, pipe dope, wiring, and probably fire extinguisher, then buying a foreclosure in New England might be for you.

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United Professionals

February 23, 2009 · Leave a Comment

United Professionals is an organization of white-collar professionals, who along with blue-collar workers, service employees, and union members, make up the bulk of America’s workforce. I write for its blog here.

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Everyone should have a wedding song

January 12, 2009 · Leave a Comment

About 12 years ago, I got my first job in another state. It was not too far away, but it was an exciting opportunity and I jumped at it (In 1996, it was kind of hard not to bump into exciting opportunities just about everywhere). The night before the first interview, the future Mrs. LeftOne and I hopped in the car and took a road trip.

For whatever reason, I had a melody stuck in my head. This happens to musicians a lot. For me back then, it was several times daily. Usually it was a derivative of something else I’d heard, and most of the time I forgot about it. But there were other times that the thing was so haunting, beautiful, catchy, or raging, that I’d have to pull over and jot it down.

This was one of those melodies.

It was two more years before I found words to fit. With lyrics it can be a similar issue. You can’t work at it, but sometimes it comes in like a wrecking ball. A song was born. It was written and arranged to be a duet, one of those incredibly sappy tunes like the centerpiece in a Disney cartoon movie. The cliche radio hit. When I played the raw tracks for a friend, he said, “Wow. You’re going to Webber the s–t out of it, aren’t you?”

Yes. I was.

The song was recorded at a professional studio and used as our wedding song in 1999. Nobody else on the planet has our wedding song. Yes, a lot of musician-types can say the same thing.

Shouldn’t everyone have a wedding song? I mean everyone, in all 50 states? I’ve heard some amazing choices for songs. Most of my friends chose an 80’s ballad they remembered from high school. I’ve heard lots of Journey and Bryan Adams at these things. Songs from Disney films. Some Eric Clapton. Guns n’ Roses showed up once. Primus (yes). For that matter, Yes, too. Some folks took it Bach.

I even played a wedding once. If you ever want to hear Rammstein’s “Du Hast” adapted for a Steinway grand, I think I have a recording of it. I also have a video of the most glorifyingly haphazard botch of Mussorgsky’s “Great Gate at Kiev” on a pipe organ. I mean it’s practically unrecognizable.

Most weddings are a re-hash of somebody’s grand plan for hilarity. There’s much griping and worrying, too much waiting, lousy plastic appetizers, burnt filet mignon, family feuds, camera mishaps, drunken fools, the DJ who never figures out when to put away the saxophone. Years afterward of looking through the album wondering who some of these people were.

For our wedding, we knew what we wanted. For the church: The short vows. The Cliff-Notes version. For the hall: Keep the food snappy and give us 4 hours of dancing. Almost everyone was 27. Why waste time on the Glenn Miller and cake? This is a party, dammit.

But that song. That damn song had people on the floor. “You mean you wrote your own–” and then puddles of tears. It was exactly the response I wanted.

We danced for the entire 3:14 while everyone watched in awe. At least I assume they did. I never noticed anything beyond the little bubble that enveloped my bride and I. And it’s been pretty much that way ever since. Tell me why exactly should anybody be excluded from that?

Every now and then I pick up whatever instrument is lying close by and play the song, called “Voice,” as I was inspired to do while watching the nationwide protests about California’s Prop 8, which codifies second-class citizenship for gays in that state. It is a setback for justice, equality and democracy.

Every marriage is different, but most weddings share similar traditions, like the song. It’s just one small part of a much greater event. It’s just a symbol that helps people remember their vows of lifelong devotion and encapsulates the radiance of their dreams in that single moment.

Why shouldn’t everybody be able to have that?

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“Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

July 1, 2008 · Leave a Comment

Immortal words these were. When Captain Picard spoke them on ST:TNG, a little cup suddenly appeared out of nowhere, full of piping hot tea that was so accurate it could fool the bald Shakespearean captain. The machine in the wall was called a replicator, and it was based on the same technology used in the transporter. It reproduced the cell structures of materials kept elsewhere on the ship, like a cup of tea stored in containers in the cargo bay (Which often came crashing down during firefights. What if the tea spilled?).

Okay, so Star Trek was a little far-fetched. Sue me. I’m here to tell you that the path to the 24th century replicator has begun. For a few years now, the ancestor of the Star Trek replicator has existed in the form of the Fabber.

The Fabber, also known as a Rapid Prototyper, or 3-D Printer, works a bit differently from the replicator, of course. You cannot simply create the matter out of nothing. It uses plastic or metal in the form of slugs, wire, powder, or liquid for its raw material, and sophisticated design software to create extremely fine shapes. The Fabber will use the material to mold the the shape you desire.

Design software, some proprietary, but much of it open-source, is available to help you create the implement of your choice. Break the stylus for your Blackberry? Fab up a new one. Dropped your toothbrush in the toilet? Just fab up a replacement. An exact replica of a Hattori Hanzo sword? Done.

And just wait until we can use empty plastic milk jugs for the raw material. I’ll never need Radio Shack again.

If you hook up your Fabber to a computer with voice-recognition software, you can even croak “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” in your best Patrick Stewart voice, and a little teacup will appear. But you’ll still have to make the tea yourself.

For now.

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Neat ‘unconventional advertising’ on MBTA

June 30, 2008 · Leave a Comment

Okay, I hate the term “Guerrilla Marketing” because it evokes images of some severely hateful and dangerous people. I envision businessfolk in suits carrying giant foam-core charts and AK-47s. Advertising should be thought-provoking and disruptive, but not deadly.

I’ve enacted some interesting advertising ideas in my time. Before the opening of a technology store, I and my colleagues covered the windows with paper, and tore holes to reveal a little more of the interior each day. One of us put on a giant furry alien costume and walked around the local marketplace with a battery-powered ticker in his three-fingered hands, reading lines like “Play more video games.” We also crashed a trade show and set up in a vacant booth. Nobody ever stopped us.

But I digress. Boston is also known for the infamous “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” Mooninite tech-forms that shut down the city for a day. THAT is the pinnacle of (let’s call it) ‘unconventional marketing’; Shutting down a city. Steve Jobs, eat your heart out (Steve did get to shut down part of Boston by opening the Apple store on Boylston, but I digress again).

Recently, on the subway train, I saw one of the panel ads, usually for stuff like banks and schools and beverages, and for the MBTA’s own communications. But this one was simply a sketch, a name, and a list of stuff the author does, like airbrushing shirts and handbags, and the web address. The guy (or gal) had taken one of the paid-for panel ads and flipped it over, drew on it, and put it back wrongside-out. It is possible the perpetrator took the panel home and brought it back, and maybe did this with several others.

Genius.

Illegal, yes, but deadly? No. Shut down the city? No. A better pitch than whatever was on the front side? Probably. I have nothing against blanketing a station with one company’s ads, as Dewar’s and Apple often do. I see nothing wrong with wrapping a bus in a movie ad. But let’s face it, they are not actually unconventional because there is an entire industry of moneymakers involved in those techniques. The difference here is that it cost nothing. It is basically graffiti, done tastefully and in a surprising way. I like it.

Only one problem: the website listed was at www.myspace.com/somethingtoolongtoremember… and I cannot remember it. A simpler name, and the creative would become sublime.

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Boston’s MBTA: Playing Games With Your Head

June 27, 2008 · 1 Comment

If somebody can explain why the MBTA likes to wait until a few seconds before a commuter rail train is scheduled to leave before announcing which track it is on, I would love to hear it.

Every day at North Station (and presumably at South Station) a little game is played, and it goes like this: Hundreds of people line up in front of the big board waiting for their train to be matched with a track. The minutes tick by and the crowd gathers, a steaming cloud of 8-hour old coffee-breath hanging over our tired bodies. We gather, clad in polyester-blend serfs’ uniforms soaked in sweat from hoofing across any of Boston’s brick-and-concrete wastelands, and wait, eyes strained, trying not to miss the nanosecond when the track number appears and the entire crowd moves to clog the doors from the hall to the narrow platform.

MBTA, why do this? You run trains all day, every day. And when you’re not busy running trains, you’re running trains. Like the rest of us, who manage a schedule, from the house, to the gym, to the workplace, to the lunch spot, to the doctor, to the client, to work again, to the school, to the restaurant, and home again. Most of us know where we’re going to be in 42 minutes, at 3 past noon, and at 6:18, and which car we’re going to take to get there. And it’s not even our job to manage this stuff.

Crazy idea, MBTA: If you know which train is sitting on the platform, and you certainly should, tell someone. Maybe put it up on the board. Then the sweaty crowd doesn’t have to line up under the board, clogging the room, and moving as one giant mass when the lights flicker. Maybe the train can fill up nice and leisurely-like, and North Station can be the open-floored market-palace it was designed to be.

Or if you’re just experimenting and playing games with our heads, tell me. I’d love to see your findings.

UPDATE: In a reply from MBTA GM Dan Grabauskas, the reasons the MBTA does this boil down to: Conductors need time to do a brake test and sweep of the trains when they come in, and the crew for one train may be coming in on another train and have not arrived.

So in other words, better operational management is needed, is that what the GM is saying?

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Foreclosure Trouble? Buy a Tent.

June 24, 2008 · 1 Comment

This would be funny if it weren’t a national trend that is threatening to throw millions out of their houses in the next few years, but it’s just the way the Internet works. You go to a story on housing, or read a site that is normally tagged for high-income or mainstream audiences, and the algorithms do the rest. Here is a tent ad from LL Bean in the middle of a story about foreclosures:

Losing your home? Call LL Bean!

This is even sadder when you consider the story includes the line, “We now have a ‘tent city’ because the homeless shelters are overloaded.” Ouch.

So run on down to your local LL Bean and pick up your next home. The silver lining: With all these vacant houses, there will be no shortage of firewood.

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