Learning to play

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I’ve just downsized.  My living space is now 25% of what it was two weeks ago.  I’m down to the basics. Except for the piano.

The piano stared at me, clearly dissatisfied with my performance: "You can do better."

The piano stared at me, clearly dissatisfied with my     performance: “You can do better.”

It’s a Baldwin spinet, an Acrosonic.  Certainly not fancy, but a good piano. The belly opens up to enlarge the sound.  Over the past few years, I’ve rarely played it. Still, somehow it remains a comfort.    

It would have been logical to get rid of the piano along with the dining room table, but something stopped me.  I could tell from the way it regarded me that our relationship was not right.  

“Why do you want to spend hundreds of dollars to move a piano you never play?” a friend  asked.  I could only say we had unfinished business, the piano and I.

When I was a child, I took lessons from Mrs. Siebert.  She sat beside me, carefully dressed, every hair in place, and patiently guided me through pieces I hadn’t practiced, leaning forward to encourage my fingers to hit the right notes.  Once a year we had recitals at the local Baldwin store.  Very painful.  My knees shook as I walked up the steps to the stage and sat down in the spotlight — a test of what?  Certainly not my talent, for I had none.  My ability to stick with a task I didn’t enjoy?  I remember looking out over the dark audience, relieved that I’d survived without inflicting major damage on my family’s reputation. I came across the recital pins when I was packing to move. I hesitated for a moment, then threw them all in the trash.

The revelation came when I invited local musician Patches King over to test out the Acrosonic.  She sat down to play and out came glorious, celebratory riffs of sound.  It was the sound of pure joy.  That was the business I needed to finish:  to learn to enjoy making music. 

Nothing good comes easy.  I hid my eyes when the two young movers heaved the piano up the stairs (of course there is no elevator).  It blocks the air conditioner, and I’ll have to put it on sliders to change the filter (a must-do during the Texas summer).  But I’m playing and looking for a good piano tuner.  Discipline is a prerequisite to mastering any skill, and I’m making myself sit down and play.  Hopefully it will become a habit.  Patches encouraged me to take lessons, and I may take her up on it.  In the end, we need all the joy we can get.

A legacy of civic activism: Austin’s details define its identity

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I was struck by a new Austinite’s attributing the airport’s local-only food and drink policy to its sustainability program.  Give credit where credit’s due was Austin Bergstrom International Airport Environmental Manager Kane Carpenter’s response at a gathering of AustinGreenDrinks.

Have a yen for bbq at the airport? The Salt Lick is an Austin icon.

Have a yen for bbq at the airport? The Salt Lick is an Austin icon.

Local-only was burned into the original ABIA blueprint when the airport was designed over a decade ago.  It’s more than sustainability.  It’s part of what defines Austin as a place.

In the grip of growth and trendsetting, it’s comforting to know your city is determined to stick by its identity.  Drive down Shoal Creek Boulevard where large mid-century modern homes are spreading like Bermuda grass where, until recently, low-slung 50′s and 60′s ranch homes housed modest families.  Their design mirrors the heyday of Austin architecture, but the homes are more marketable, luxurious and efficient.  They’re designed for the future.  Still, there’s a twinge of sadness as the past steps aside for what’s to come.

Janet Long Fish used her own money and resources to help build the hike and bike trail.

Janet Long Fish used her own money and resources to help build the hike and bike trail.

But I shouldn’t worry.  Bolstered by local visionaries — and unsung heroes — sustainability is in Austin’s bones.  I listened to Anne Fish tell a wonderful story about her aunt, also a Fish, who in the 1950′s,  marshaled neighborhood kids, the Civilian Conservation Corps and donated several thousand dollars of her own money to clean up the stretch of the hike and bike trail between Pease Park and 39th St.  Mrs. Fish practiced civic activism in its truest sense. She made the place outside her window a better place for everyone to enjoy.

Austinites have always taken their city seriously.  City leaders have eschewed investments by  industries that pollute the ground and water.  Philanthropists have supported local theater, kids, and nature.  We were blessed with the Johnson family, the University of Texas and all those lawyers who’ve preserved the charm of Judges Hill.

So, next time you’re in the airport, grab a taco or a cup of coffee, and think about how you can make your city a better version of itself.

Perfectionism as the ultimate fake out

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If you feel in need of a good, healthy slap in the face, I recommend Andrew Solomon’s brilliant Far from the Tree, a page turner of a book about those among us who are born different — the deaf, dwarves, homosexuals, children of rape.  It’s required reading for the 21st century, especially for people like me who whine when we fall short of (fill in the blank).

Stop worrying and start making yourself and the world around you better.

Stop worrying about being perfect. Start improving.

Solomon’s Tree gives those us blessed to be born in the middle of the bell curve a benchmark with which to measure our own silly self-preoccupations, among which I must say, perfectionism stands out as a colossal waste of energy.

Fortunately, thanks to Brene Brown, population explosion, social media and the first amendment,  perfectionism has fallen out of favor.  Witness the snarky comments about the talented, drop-dead gorgeous Anne Hathaway.  We don’t like to be shown up.

So, quick, while perfection is not trending, let’s try to figure out how to put all the energy we spend worrying about future outcomes into actually trying to make both ourselves and the future better.  Case in point: public speaking has never been easy for me. I can suffer insomnia, panic attacks and temporary amnesia prior to giving a talk.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to put that effort into preparing?  Wouldn’t it be logical to just talk about what I care about rather than trying to sound like I have it all together?

Ever listen to “From the Top,” the radio show about young musicians?  These kids spend four and five hours a day practicing their art and seem to thrive on the process. They’re focused, fun and innovative.  They don’t whine. I hope they’re the future.  Out with suffering artists and tortured, overly competitive achievers!

On a community level, here in Austin, which has always been a high-volunteer/low donation city, “I Live Here, I Give Here” program sponsored Amplify Austin, a day-long donation marathon, sort of like “1,000 Points of Light” meets Kickstarter.  The result?  $3 million for non-profits.  What an improvement over whining!

The point is that making things (and oneself) better takes a lot of work, but not necessarily self-torture.  Even moving forward is hard.  But consider the alternative.

The other thought is — and this is a separate post — there’s a trick to weaving a story — about oneself, a client or colleague — that makes the process a lot easier — and more fun.  It worked for Jane Austen (who doesn’t want to be Elizabeth Bennet?) and Scheherazade.  Why not us?

So, let it go.  Take a minute and do a little jig.  Recite “The Owl and the Pussycat.”  Go make something better.

 

Why are people moving (here)?

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I can’t help noticing how many out-of-state license plates are zipping around Austin.  I’d say about 25% are from somewhere else (actually many “somewheres”; gone are the days they’re all from California). New Jersey, Kansas, Pennsylvania, Louisiana, Arizona, Illinois, New York  – a diverse pool of new Austinites — all headed for somewhere else.

Austin, Texas: Why are people moving here?

Austin, Texas: Why are people moving here?

A young family just moved in down the street.  ”Where are you from?”  ”Pennsylvania, but now we’re Texans.”  They moved to take advantage of career opportunities, but they’re planning to stay.   At a briefing held at the local IBM offices, all the presenters were new residents — from San Jose, New Jersey and Louisiana.  The younger residents draw older ones.  A woman just moved in across the street from Cleveland to be closer to her grandkids.

Texas has been smart, bold and lucky in cultivating a vibrant environment for economic development. But the competition is stiff and the problems associated with success almost as daunting as those tied to failure — traffic, gasoline and energy prices, water, education.

What will make the difference?  The experts say it’s our ability to collaborate, develop a coherent political strategy and move forward:  Organized diversity around a common set of goals (and metrics) —  like less congestion, conservation and good schools.  Check out America’s Regions Take Center Stage from the Citistates Group, a succinct look at the new realities of 21st century economic development.

The report probably won’t surprise you, but it may remind you that we’re all in this together.

Values and downsizing

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I’m downsizing from a 2200 square foot house to a 640 square foot apartment. I always thought I’d be a little old lady in a rambling house with tomatoes and cats, but that may not be the case.  I have to admit:  it’s painful. I pack a box, then unpack it and add stuff to my Craigslist and Recycled Reads piles.

Do I need this clock?

Do I need this clock?

My mom’s books and Bibles; my dad’s medals and fishing gear.  My piano and couches the dog (not me) sits on.  Reckoning time:  how much can I afford to store?  Will I ever again (honestly)  have the space to have these things with me?

My eureka moment came when I was staring at  an anniversary clock my dad bought when he was stationed in Germany in the 1950′s.  There’s no doubt my dad considered the clock valuable. He built a wooden packing box and encased it in straw like a nativity set. He bought extra globes in case of breakage.  He shipped it back to the States, then to Turkey and back.

But the clock doesn’t fit anymore.  It’s too delicate, and I’m not going to have space to display it.  It’s going on Craigslist.

What I want to keep are the character traits the clock represents, the ones my dad drilled in — responsibility, tenacity, honesty, loyalty, hard work, a sense of fairness and punctuality (alas, that one is touch and go).

Luckily (some solace) It’s not just me.  We live in a world with more people and fewer resources.  Organizations have to be more agile, more collaborative and less tied to the shards of their pasts.  A box full of memorabilia from my days at IBM: a hardbound commemorative issue of that grand benchmark of corporate publications, Think, resource binders doled out through continuing education programs and lots of award plaques.  I only vaguely remember the projects.  But the values I keep:  respect for the individual, friendship, collaborative teamwork and innovation.  

I’m hoping someone will see the clock on Craigslist and value it for something it represents to them. The past is precious, but there’s a lot more to think about, and I need to move faster to get where I want to go.   

Reinvention and upside down tomatoes

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I stopped into my favorite charity shop and watched a volunteer pull one of those grow-tomatoes-upside-down kits out of a bag.  A botanical reinvention built on the premise that plants — like people, corporations and planets — can be reinvented  to instantly adapt in ways that are painless, prompt, productive and  profitable.

Reinventing the tomato plant -- upside down.

Reinventing the tomato plant — upside down.

Yes and no.  Reinvention is systemic. It’s metric is survival. That tomato, for example, knows it’s supposed to grow up, so you’ll find it straining to turn itself upside upside down to be rightside up.  This can be distressing to watch if you have rigid ideas of how things should be, but that’s the trade off.     

I’m a boomer, raised on pap spun out by that evil genius of happy endings, Walt Disney.  Did he know he was shaping an entire generation’s psychology?  All those fairy godmothers, princes and ball gowns?   I would have loved to have seen him locked into a joint script-writing project with the Brothers Grimm.  The result would be very 21st century.  

When Plan A and indeed B and C don’t work, I try to give myself a break.  I realize I’m tapping my foot in anticipation of a fast, inside-out extreme makeover — fewer wrinkles, better real estate and clients who hang on my every word.  Fascinating opportunities are out there.  We just have to trash the old script — and pen a new one.

So, heave ho.  We know what to do. Read the pundits.  Keep moving forward.  Cheerfully.  It’ll soon be tomato season.   

Accommodating change — and everybody else

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Everything was set up to start spring cleaning, and this little guy stuck his head out of an abandoned sparrow nest nestled between the rear window and an outdoor shade.  Okay, so I’m a little late on the cleaning.

It’s an anole lizard, a charming little reptile — sometimes green, sometimes brown — seen darting across rocks, fences and buildings in warm weather (just about all year in Austin).

A reptilian squatter, seen through a (dirty) window.

A reptilian squatter, seen through a (dirty) window.

The little guy (it may be a gal) is homesteading.  I can tell it thinks big — it’s taken over the entire foot-long nest.  Anolis lizards are fiercely protective.  When I pointed the hose, it girded its loins, as the ancients used to say, and made ready for battle.

Nature vs. woman – one of the life’s four basic conflicts.  The compromise?  Abandon the project and am work out an accommodation.  I mean, what if it’s a single mom?

Austin’s kind of like that: thinking big and figuring out how to accommodate record growth.  There are lots of out-of-state license plates on packed roads. Housing is getting harder to find.  All of which goes hand-in-hand with excitement and energy — and a nexus of talent, energy and resources.

Does growth have to be Darwinian?  The anole reminded me to pause and make way.  To make room for those of a different stripe and enjoy the expansion.

The disputed territory -- can the anole and I accommodate one another?

The disputed territory — can the anole and I accommodate one another?