Not Just Any CEO

Although I must admit I was not entirely surprised to learn of Steve Jobs’ passing today, it is also true that I am more than a little taken aback. I knew his health was failing even before Jobs’ as much as admitted so when he stepped down as Apple’s CEO last August. I am, however, a little surprised that the turning of this final page in his life has me as reflective as it does. I am not a fan nor am I a groupie, but I am an admirer - and it is not just because of my devotion to a superior product line built by the company he cofounded less than two miles from where I grew up. That garage where Apple’s humble beginnings were forged could have been any garage in the sleepy Palo Alto/Los Altos/Mountain View tri-city area. A legend was born right in our back yards by a pair of visionaries who were not much older than I am.

And maybe that is part of it. At 56, Jobs was not an old man. Of course, 30 years ago my opinion of what constituted “old” would have placed Jobs squarely in that category, but at 48, I’m thinking Jobs was just hitting his prime much the same as Apple is… and I am. He was a man who had it all - way more than just material wealth. He was (is) highly respected as a businessman as well as a human; he was fiercely private in his personal life and at the same time never shunned the spotlight when it came promoting his company; he was not only a visionary, he was also universally recognized as such; and most importantly, he changed the world. He made peoples lives better. Millions of them.

He made my life better. Not in a big way, not like he touched so many others, but Jobs provided me with products I could count on, almost always without fail. That is how he touched perhaps most of us, but for some his impact is even more profound. The employees of Apple are of course beneficiaries of his legacy, but so are the thousands upon thousands of employees of other companies that are peripheral to the market Jobs carved out for Apple. Accessories companies, parts manufacturers, carpenters, plumbers, even truck drivers and airplane pilots (just to name a very few) have a share in the business Apple produced. And it all started in that small garage.

Apple is more than just a great hardware and software manufacturer. And it is more than just knowing what the secret to business success is. Indeed, it is hardly a secret, but one would not know it from the many companies that come and go that cannot seem to grasp three simple precepts. Apple engineers and produces very high quality products. Although it is hard to go wrong when your quality is a notch above everyone else’s, that is not enough. Apple also knows where their money comes from. The customer is Apple’s number one priority and it doesn’t take much interaction with an Apple employee before one feels like it. Finally and perhaps the most elusive part of the secret, a successful corporation must have employees who are happy and loyal. At Apple, they are part of a family. Throughout Jobs’ tenure, these three factors have not only been policy, they have been culture and one that allows them to charge top dollar because the customer is still getting more than he or she paid for.

As much as the above will keep a company afloat for a very long time, at some point new product ideas will hit a dry spell. Long-term dominance relies on the insights of a visionary like Jobs who can not only see the what the technology coming down the pipe can do, but can also develop products based on that technology that we don’t even know we want. Yes, Jobs did that. He transformed the way we do so much because his intuition told him what we needed before we needed it. And he filled that need while keeping quality high, his employees happy and loyal and all the while telling me, the customer, that I am the most important person in the Apple organization.

There are people who wish they had what Jobs had. They envy his power, his prestige and his money. But I wonder if they would trade places with him now, to have all that and pass away at such an early age? I might – not in exchange for his power or his prestige or his wealth – but for the ability to make the world a better place for so many people. Steve Jobs has done on a massive scale what too few are willing to do on even a personal scale. I, too, want to change the world; I want to make it a better place. His vision inspires me and his legacy continues to. Jobs will be sorely missed… and he’s leaving some mighty big shoes to fill.

Reconstitution

It has been six weeks since my last blog post. Since starting this journal almost six years ago, this is the longest span between entries yet. And it is not as though there is nothing worthwhile to write about… I am at a loss to explain just why I have not taken the few minutes needed to reflect here over the course of these past weeks. True, I am busy, busier than ever, but it does not take long to do this type of writing. My archives tell a story, and the frequency of entries is a story in and of itself. The “perspectives, purpose and opinion,” as the subtitle states, are still pronounced, but my motivation to document them has definitely waned.

This blog was started as a living record of my trials and tribulations in a post apocalyptic world. No, the world did not experience an apocalypse – you would have heard – but mine did. This blog began as my world began to reconstitute itself. And that world is a very different place. That is where the “perspective” comes into play. The “opinion” posts are easily identified and there are many, some with the mixed mission of identifying perspective as well, but the middle term, “purpose,” has always been somewhat indescribable. I have written about purpose many times, but as far as nailing it down to something specific, well, that is likely never going to happen.

Those familiar with my story (either through reading these entries over the years or because they know me personally) also know that my life nearly came to an end almost 11 years ago. In each of the past five years I wrote a commemoration of that ill-fated day, but that series is over. After the 10-year mark I felt I said all there is to say about the incident specifically and I will not rehash it here. Inquiring minds can find the last entry in the series with links to the other posts here. However, the reconstitution is not complete as I find myself now in a place that I never dreamed possible in my pre-apocalyptic days. Despite my lack of posting anything recently to the “official record,” the wonder and amazement are still there.

Tonight I can be found in my apartment in Baton Rouge, just two blocks from the Louisiana State University campus. I arrived here on August 12^th after four days of driving the 2,200 miles from Sacramento, Calif. with a trailer full clothes, books, my bike (no, not my Harley, it is still in Sacramento… and we don’t need to talk about that) and other necessities needed for survival. My driving companion/co-pilot/soul-mate was with me 24/7 right up until she had to fly back to Sacramento on August 15^th, the date of my last blog entry titled, Upheaval. The title is self-explanatory. Tonight, after six weeks here, I have “settled in” to the extent possible, but to say that I am at home here is a stretch. But at the same time, the upheaval I wrote about has faded away.

However, the change is still fresh. I still miss home, my friends, my family and especially one very special lady who is not only suffering with me, but also suffering for me and because of me. And if wasn’t for some indescribable, nebulous purpose that is driving me, I would not have put either of us through this. Thankfully she understands; she doesn’t like it, but she understands. Nothing worth doing is easy and although the “pay-off” can be measured in the material (i.e., a Ph.D. will secure a good job doing what I love and carry me through retirement), if that was all I was after, I could have done it with an MA and at home. There is more – something is pulling me, something is “out there,” something that has probably been calling to me my entire life. And it took a personal apocalypse to realize it. It could come from the same muses that sang to Aristotle, Cicero and other wonderers or it could be a calling uniquely my own, but to deny it is to deny myself.

And that, once again, is as close to purpose as I can get. I cannot define it in anything more than abstract, nebulous, general terms. Like love, something we know exists, no one can show me a pound of love. I cannot go to a store and by a bag of it. I can find it represented in art but art itself is not love. But I know it is real. With every heartbeat I can feel it. And so it is with purpose. I cannot ignore it; this “purpose” is real.

Upheaval

Writing is among the things I do best. This is not to say that mine is any better or worse than anyone else’s writing (qualifying my craft is a job for those who read it), but it is absolutely a reflection on something I am very comfortable with. Through the written word I can access parts of my psyche that are otherwise difficult to reach. It could be that it slows my thinking down enough to actually be cognizant of my thoughts as they parade through my mind… or it might be that the part of my brain used to compose these symbols is not the same as my real-time, on the fly and instantaneous part… or it might be something altogether different. I suppose if I were to sit down and examine that phenomenon through my writing, the exercise would reveal insights, but that is not my purpose tonight.

Tonight I am decidedly not comfortable. And writing brings me a sense of ease that few other things do. Since my world tonight is upside-down, writing about it is a source of solace that I am usually reluctant to engage, but it always brings relief. Tonight I find myself in a new city in a new state at a new school embarking on a new goal. Almost everything familiar, including the geography, the weather, the time zone, my family, my friends and especially my girlfriend are still in California. Furthermore, while certainly not in the same class as the people I love so much, I had to leave my Harley behind, too. But since its benefit is largely reliant upon the Northern California roads I am so familiar with, my bike might actually cause me more stress here than meditative comfort. But I digress…

This is about change. Major change. And though I signed up for it and knew this was coming, the cold hard reality is just that - cold and hard. I have felt this before, many years ago when I was just out of high school. I left the home of my childhood to go to school in San Diego. I was unprepared for the isolation I felt in every respect but one; I was just 20 years old and far more resilient. Now 49, I have embarked on an adventure better suited for a much younger person. Exciting? Of course. Intriguing? Absolutely. But I have left a far more entrenched and established life and network than I could have possibly attained at 20. My past experience tells me this discomfort will get better. Not in respect to missing my home and friends and most profoundly, my girlfriend – that angst will remain prominent, but in time I will establish profession relationships and personal friendships here. That, however, will take some time.

In the meantime, I am struck with the wisdom of age without the resilience of youth. There is, however, another distinct difference between this move and past others. In the past, I was not so much moving toward the positive as I was moving away from the negative. What I left behind was not much and the discomfort felt upon arriving was no worse than the stagnation I felt prior to. This time there was nothing to run from. But Baton Rouge is where LSU, the school that offered me the opportunity of a lifetime, is and this is where I must be for many months out of the next three or four years… it can’t happen anywhere else. In this case, it is not a choice between the lesser of two evils, but rather a temporary sacrifice that I willingly undertook to advance my professional credentials. That will, in turn, positively influence mine and my family's security when I am finished. It will also place me in a job so satisfying that it will hardly feel like work.

But change is still uncomfortable and major change is majorly uncomfortable. Human nature tends to resist change and I am nothing if not human. Eventually I will become more used to the situation I have placed myself, but I am afraid that leaving those who love me and whom I love will always remain heavy on my heart. Reunions will be frequent, but bittersweet, as each will be accompanied by yet another departure at some point until this goal is completed, at which time, of course, a new challenge and more change, probably major change, will come again. This never gets easier, but at least this time it represents an advance, not a retreat. Seems like that should help, but it doesn’t…

Petty Crimes

I live in a pretty nice neighborhood. It is in an unincorporated suburb in Sacramento County, Calif. known as Fair Oaks. The subdivision I live in is a relatively new development (late 70s) called Rollingwood. Although we are certainly not crime-free, the level of criminal activity here is low and for the most part petty. Of course, there are exceptions, but all in all, this is a very quiet neighborhood. One of my neighbors across the street started a neighborhood watch email list so that the residents are kept up to date on what is going on around here. The following letter is to alert my neighbors of a petty crime that occurred in my driveway last night or early this morning…

Dear Rollingwood residents,

Last night I failed to roll up my windows in my car. Although it was parked in my driveway on Long Canyon Dr., and my outdoor lights were on, someone decided it was worth entering my car to see what could be had. Fortunately there was not much there, but some items in the tray of my center console were taken – and the tray was taken as well. There was a small pocketknife, a silver ring and broken silver rope chain necklace… maybe a couple of other items as well. All tolled, these items were not worth much and with the exception of the tray itself, nothing that I will really miss. But the value of these items and whether I will miss them or not is obviously not the point. The sanctity and security of my home was violated and this would (or should) piss anyone off. The crime did not go totally undetected - there are always clues. The following is what I believe to be a probable scenario:

Although I do not know for sure when it occurred, my kids’ dogs were barking at about 5 a.m. this morning. They will bark whenever they sense someone outside my house, but usually it is nothing. This time we should have listened and let them out for if I had, I would be writing a much different story. It is also probable that the dogs scared off the punk(s) before they had a chance to search in any depth – much more was left than was taken. This was a crime of opportunity; there was no need to check to see if the car was open, it clearly was. I have not checked my security cameras yet, but due to where the car was parked and the pre-dawn darkness, I don’t expect they will reveal much. But here is the sad truth; the criminal(s) involved are most likely living among us.

This is a crime a kid would commit – one or more of your kids (not necessarily your kid, but very likely one of our neighbors’) and/or one or more of their associates. It is highly unlikely that someone would be casing this neighborhood in search of a car with its windows open to see what kind of score could be made. These are not professionals, but they are absolutely criminals in training. So here is the $64,000 question: Do you know where your kids were early this morning? Are any of them sporting a slick little pocketknife (it’s red and about an inch and a half to two inches long when folded), or a silver rope necklace or a silver ring? You might ask them how they came up with these things, because they among the things that were lifted from my car. I sure don’t want anyone to take this personally and I am by no means accusing every kid in this neighborhood of being a thief, but the evidence is pretty clear that at least one is. There is an opportunity here for a proactive, alert parent to stop a lifetime of bad choices in its tracks.

Me? I just want my center console tray back.

Sincerely,

Michael K. Althouse

Still New

I have not done much writing here for the past several months. According to the archives section on this blog, I wrote 55 entries in 2010 and so far this year I have written only nine. And it is now halfway through July. I’m not sure why this is. I wrote quite a lot in 2007 and 2008, logging 160 and 134 entries, respectively. While it is true that some of those entries were not written compositions and a few were not even my own work (always properly cited, however), the need or desire to publicly air my thoughts appears to have been greater when this journey was new. It was almost as if the worldwide access to my words lent some reality or permanence to what can arguably be described as a living dream. Or beyond one…

But it can just as easily be argued that the novelty has not worn off. Each new chapter brings new amazement and the start of the next leg is only three short weeks away. It is still staggering to think about where I was just seven years ago compared to where I am today. And where I am going, though just as unknown as where I am viewed from where I was, is nothing I was even capable of dreaming of. This is not a dream, but I did not plan any of this. I did not plan to graduate with a BA at 45 years old, did not plan to have an MA at 48 and I had no idea I would be moving to a new city 2,200 miles away to begin work on my Ph.D. this same year. I simply did what was in front of me and availed myself of the opportunities that came along the way, not knowing whether I would or could succeed. I took chances, but without doing the work, the chances of success were zero. This I know only too well from experience.

This is not some sort of mid-life crisis; the crises I have faced were recurring and of my own doing well prior to some arbitrary ‘mid-life’ mark. It wasn’t until mid-life (I hate that term, it feels as though I have some sort of expiration date, but I digress…) that I was finally able to extract myself from crisis mode. Indeed, these things that I am now doing should have been done years ago, but I had neither the capacity nor the discipline to achieve anything for any sustained period of time. Success was always tentative and fleeting. As soon as I arrived at good enough I stopped doing the work and, truth be told, the work I did to get to good enough was only good enough anyway. I always wanted to be happy, satisfied, content, at peace, serene… supply your own utopian adjective, but I never imagined that those things required work. As a result, nothing was ever enough, but if there was such a thing, it could be had at a price. Or... perhaps I was simply deficient or cursed; accepting that was easier and in a strange twist of irony, opened the door that led me here.

Because I found peace only externally, even when I had small windfalls (which did not seem all that small at the time), it only bought some degree of comfort. And although comfort can make one comfortable, it cannot create happiness. Some may disagree, but I can cite example after example of those who have extraordinary wealth and equally extraordinary misery. While I agree that the opportunities to manifest happiness might be enhanced with monetary resources, it still takes effort to achieve that elusive element of quality in one’s life. Once I accepted that I could never afford the kind of happiness I thought I deserved and, even if there was a dollar figure, it was beyond my reach – ever – I was able to stop pursuing it. I gave up; I surrendered that my life was what it was and there was little I could do about it.

But that is not entirely true. While it is true that my life was what it was; it is also true that it is what it is. The world has not changed all that much. The injustices (perceived and real) that plagued not only my life, but many others’ and in far greater measure, are still there. My luck has not changed either as my infrequent visits to gaming establishments prove. But (and this is a key ‘but’), my happiness is not contingent on the outcomes of those excursions. Win or (usually) lose, I remain at peace. This example might appear to have little to do with anything, but the fact is that life is never going to provide me with a windfall of happiness, I have to create that myself. It has to do with perception and for me, once I accepted that this peace I longed for was not going to just land in my lap, I stopped seeking it. Once I quit fighting, I had an abundance of time and a bit of clarity… and I started to have moments of peace. I was experiencing happiness and found that it was not based on what I had (which was not much), but what I did.

And today I am doing quite a lot. My happiness ‘lucky streak’ has lasted almost seven years now and promises to endure as long as I stay committed to building on what I already have. In other words, I have not yet nor do I ever believe that I will have attained good enough. I know the effort it takes to create and maintain happiness is worth it, but old habits and ideals die hard. For me, it is always a battle to stay on top of what I have in front of me, for the idea that I have arrived manifests itself most often in procrastination… I can always do it tomorrow. But if I said that all those yesterdays ago, would I be happy today? Of course, the work involved in being content involves much more than just career-oriented work. That ‘more’ can be captured in a word: Integrity. Being part of humanity and being content with my contribution to it requires this. I don’t know about anyone else, but for me that takes some conscious effort as well. It requires work. And that makes me happy.

Quality - Revisited

A little more than a year ago, I wrote an essay for this blog that was more reflective than anything of any substance. I had questions - seems I always do. Although I didn’t ask anything of anyone with any specificity, in a little more than 800 words, I attempted to define quality. It is not a particularly easy concept to describe, though most people know it when they see it, hear it, taste it, touch it or even smell it. However, beyond experiencing it through our five senses, quality also has a transcendental nature to it. Real quality, like truth, beauty and goodness, is timeless and readily identified by people from vastly different cultures as “good.” A clay pot and a Greek vase are made from essentially the same materials and have the same purpose, yet one is beautiful beyond its utilitarian function while the other is not. That is quality – in this context artistic quality (or beauty) as opposed to functional quality (or goodness). 

We know what it is. We experience it everyday. A selfless act of compassion, a soft wind kissing one’s cheek, a glorious sunset… all universally known as possessing quality. But what is that elusive ingredient? What makes a Rembrandt better than Rockwell? Of course it’s quality, but what is quality? All this may seem to be much ado about nothing, but it leads to a deeper question, one I raised in that essay a year ago and one in which I am no closer to answering today. When it comes to the quality of one’s life – of my life – by standard do I measure it?

Obviously it is not a single “thing’” but rather a complex combination of factors that produce quality in one’s life. It is more a way of life than something in life. In many respects it is how one views life and defines his or her purpose. It can exist in one particular discrete moment in time and it can endure… and it seems not to be so much about one’s physical realities, material items and monetary wealth as it does with contribution. What have I done is far more important than what I have. And where I am going means more than where I have been. Quality is realized in the here and now, but it is not something that I can achieve and be done with it. For some time now, I have led a quality life, but that can change in a heartbeat if I do not continue to move forward… to try to fulfill that purpose, whatever it might be.

Which brings me back to a question I have pondered before and one that will likely always remain: What is my “purpose?” I do not know beyond some abstract generalities that seem to be common among those who experience quality in their lives. It has to do with making a contribution to humanity; being able to say that I did something positive today; and, at least, that I have done no harm. It is not necessary that I know exactly what my path is or where it will ultimately lead, only that I am moving in a positive direction… and for way too many years my life was stagnant. Today, with a sense of purpose comes that elusive quality that I could occasionally touch but never quite hold on to. For more than six years now, that element that defies definition has turned my life from an ordeal into an expedition, turned hardships into challenges and made every single day better than the last. That is quality.