The Audiorium

In the beginning…

When did it start? What platform was the first social network? In the beginning there was the word. Well in truth it was probably just a grunt.

“Ugh, he say’s loudly,” pointing upward toward the bright harvest moon. His gaze slowly follows round the fire briefly stopping in silence to touch each face dancing in the dark through flickering flames. It’s autumn and the night sky is clear and cold.

As we huddle closer within our circle of warmth, we know what he means. Winter’s just around the corner. This evening the unknown remains quiet, somewhere out there in the night. Yet we know it’s coming. We believe in us, but yearn for assurances. The journey to future is unknown and come spring, we ponder who will be here, some may not.

Survival is so wired into our DNA and we know our chances are better together than alone. Yet, even then the temptation is to choose only those that think like us. It’s human nature. But, life demonstrates everyday our odds for not only survival but prosperity are through diversity.

Technology impacts every aspect of our lives and yet we are human beings with wants, needs, and desires. So much of our communication today is digital and that has altered our behavior. Don’t just chase toys and platforms. Use these awesome tools to reach out and discover. Social media is not about ‘not’ being in person. It’s about creating opportunity to be in person when it’s appropriate.

I left my office in Kent today a few minutes after 5:00 pm, it was already dark. As I was walking across the parking lot I was thinking about the time we spend looking into screens. It’s amazing that through our eyes our mind interprets these dots, these pixels of light, as image.

As I look up at a beautiful autumn sky with a great big bright moon behind a few wispy clouds, I smile. “Ugh.”

“That ain’t pixels, that’s eternity.”

I’m going to Mars and I’m blogging all the way!

It struck me that blogging is a lot like going on a mission to Mars.

Talking to groups I often use the phrase, “We’re not going to Mars when we do social media. It’s right here and now.”

This morning, it showed up different.

Often, I ask the room, “Who blogs?”, no hands raise, eyes lower (hem haw hem haw)…

I love Q & A sessions with clients who don’t blog but think they might, feel they should but don’t, or their fear runs so deep the mere mention of the word ‘blog’ triggers a brain spasm.

I’m not making fun, they all have valid concerns.

But then the alibi driven responses, “That’s easy for you to say, you’ve been blogging forever. It’s what you do. You have cool stuff to talk about. Anyway, you’re ‘that guy’ who posts funny pictures… blah blah blah.”

Oh yeah, it’s easy… but that’s my big wrap up point, so hang in for a bit…

Just go for it!

We’re going to Mars! No if’s and’s or but’s… Let’s launch this can!

Power transfer complete. We are still go… T minus 15 seconds, guidance is internal.

12 11 10 9 ignition sequence started… 6 5 4 3 2 1 0… all engines running.

Houston… The candle’s lit. WE HAVE LIFT OFF!

Seriously, we’re going to Mars. It takes time, money, research, resources, oodles of patience, a crew, dedication, and a plan. Did I mention time? You want to blog why?

It’s going to take about 214 days (roughly 7 months) to get from Earth to Mars via any kind of technology we comprehend today. Coincidentally that’s about how long it’s going to take you to establish a decent blog with a good following. There are exceptions of course, but most of the one’s I’ve witnessed that got there fast disappeared the same way.

Time is everything. It takes the Earth a year to go around the sun, but Mars is way the heck out there so it takes about 1.9 years to complete an orbit. The point? You’re dealing with 2 objects that are always moving in elliptical orbits that are not synchronized. That’s you and your audience.

If you don’t launch at the right time Mars won’t be there when you arrive. When you post is important. Where are you? On the east west or third coast? If you know your audience do you know their primary orbit? Are they homeowners, 8 to 5, self employed, in foreclosure, retired, or renters?

Earth and Mars are constantly alternating between closer together and farther apart. Welcome to the cosmos of blogging! Yet, posting on a schedule will create rhythm for the dance.

You can’t get to Mars in a straight line. You’ll have to go the round about way. First you need a whole bunch of energy to blast off Earth and escape its gravity. Then you’ll orbit Earth a few times to harness the gravity you just escaped (like jumping on a mad merry-to-round) to build the momentum you need to slingshot into (what’s known as) a transfer orbit where you arch out through interstellar space for Mars (hoping it’s there when you arrive).

How’s your math?

If that isn’t a great metaphor for blogging then I don’t know nothing. And, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to scare anyone away. It just is what it is.

Consistency is the engine that will get you there, so accumulate all the surrounding natural energy you can.

We’re all in motion and we all orbit around something. You’re in their field of gravity, or they in yours.

You need a suitable spaceship to house the food, water, oxygen, and fuel for the 214 day trip. Oh, did I mention getting back? Did I forget to mention you can’t just fly by Mars for a look see and head back home? You have to hang out for 3 to 4 months otherwise Earth won’t be there when you get back.

So all in all, you’re signing up for a year and a half stint.

Pacing is important. You gotta eat, sleep, party, play, work, and exercise. Space travel has no gravity. If all you do is stare into your PC monitor all day your muscles will atrophy.

This is so much fun, I love exploration.

Hurry or not, it’s still gonna take time. It’s unpredictable, you’ll change course at least several times, so give yourself a lot of breaks. Hold dear and close those people you know that’ll always say “that was a good post.” (It’s really really really quiet in space.) Develop a good leap of faith habit, you’re gonna need it.

“So that’s it for me, I gotta rocket to catch!”

I’m going to Mars and I’m Blogging all the way!

Tip of the hat to Major Tom and Rocket Man…

“Take your protein pills and put your helmet on. Oh yeah, you know it’s gonna be a long long time.”

Charlie, your friend Blackie say’s hello.

I had to make a run to the grocery store this afternoon. I’m out of just about everything, except canned food.

I’ve been busy working on projects the last couple of weeks (and admittedly over obsessed about getting my laptop rebuilt because it got taken down with a lethal virus forcing me to opt for the last resort total nuke restore back to the original factory W7 2009 install) that I procrastinated shopping and several other chores.

As I was getting into my truck I looked up and there was Blackie.

Now Blackie I’m sure has an owner somewhere in our condo complex. I know this as a long time resident of the community. Cats get abandoned around here all the time. They may continue on the grounds for quite a while, several months maybe, but sooner more than later they get disappeared.

I nicknamed him/her Blackie, well because him/her Blackie is a black cat! It’s simple, without prejudice, and a throwback to my childhood. As kids we played in the woods, especially on Saturdays after the chores were done.

Unbeknownst to mom we weren’t just across the street in the little woods, we’d head from there down past Taylor’s pasture to the end of the alley around the old Hoffmeister home and catch the trail into the big woods.

Soon we’d pass Big Tree, palatine maple, and we’re now deep under the wooded canopy. Then up and over Indian Grounds plateau above the high cliff we’d work our way to the railroad tracks past the big pond to the little hobo village. It seemed everyone there had a short name and all of us kids knew them as Whitey, Blackie, or Red.

But my point here is Blackie often shows up when I least expect it and I totally get it; “You’re not looking for me.” I can tell by your cautious body language and your darting shinny eyes. “You’re looking for Charlie.”

I’m deeply moved. I’ve never been a cat person, per say, but I’ve owned a few way back. I’ve always considered myself a dog person and I’ve heard all the arguments through the years about animals.

Do they really think? Do they really feel?

My Grandmother said it so many times when I was a child I’ll never forget…

“They’re just little people too, you know.
They have feelings just like you and me.”

I’m touched because I know Blackie remembers and still comes by to look for Charlie even though it’s been almost a year since he’s been gone. Charlie was my daughter Shannon’s cat and as with all young people when life suddenly changes, Charlie needed a place to stay for awhile so he hung out with my son Jeff and I. We fondly referred to it as, we three bachelors.

I wrote a post about my friend Charlie back in February. As my personal coach, he taught me a lot.

Coach Charlie

I’m happy to report that Charlie now lives with a wonderful family including kids in a home on acreage. He’s a very social creature so this is awesome and it also gives him space for adventure and time alone to roam.

I just wish I could text him
to let him know Blackie stopped by to say hello and misses you.

Hope you’re well. Take care.

Originally posted on the Activerain.com network at: 

Charlie, your friend Blackie say’s hello.

I was here!

In the midst of moving from our Seattle Eastlake office to Kent I took a few minutes to document my space with a few photos before packing up all my stuff. A lot of good memories here. I started with The Talon Group back in February 2010. I spent a good deal of my time in this space during the past 20 months. I want a few mementos.

I’ve learned a lot being back in the city and it’s been great reconnecting with old real estate friends and making a lot of new ones. My previous gig had me on the road for about 6 years. It was a welcome change to be local again. Well, except for the commute on some days.

No more scrambling weekends preparing for a week on the road. No more booking hotels, flights, verifying appointments, and making sure I didn’t forget any necessary equipment. No more 4 to 6 hour drives or evening flights home on a Friday night. No more getting through airport security with my two titanium hips.

I always tell them, “I’ve got 2 metal hips” before I step through the scanner and trigger the alarm. The incessant pulsing loudly beeps, turning heads of concern in my direction. Great… I’m the spectacle of the moment! I went through this so often security in at least 3 airports knew me by sight. But to no avail, I still got waved aside to the containment area.

“The waiting wanding and patdowns will continue
until our homeland is safe and secure!”

I’m out of the office a few days and when I get back to Eastlake
I find this note on my keyboard.

“I was here!”

I’m cracking up laughing. That simple little phrase could mean so many different things.

Ahhh… (with a French accent) “A mystery, no?”

Who was “I” anyway?

My thoughts shift as my internal soundtrack plays:
Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’ … into the future. (Steve Miller)

It hits me…

“I was here.” (past tense)

Who’d a thought, already?

Okay, I’m self indulging in my own little private sentimental journey. My flashback rattles off 20 months of events with coworkers and clients. The list goes on and on. It even makes note of a few stormy weather and bad traffic days.

“Life’s a funny proposition isn’t it?” We go go go everyday striving to be in the present, yet we can’t accomplish much without honoring its connection to the past as we gaze into a future we can only anticipate. All at the same time.

Then ready or not life concludes the lesson, moves the point, ends the chapter, and turns the page. This new chapter titled Now… catches me in a fleeting moment wrestling with the old now that just became then.

Wait a second!

I’m in a new now.

It just arrived and its gotta whole new future attached.

It needs to be explored.

I’m thinking; “That’s awesomely awesome!”

“I was. I am. I will.”

My cellphone rings a direct twitter message and my little daydream disappears.

I’m back, I’m present, I’m packing…

“I was here.”

Originally posted 10/7/2011 on the Activerain.com network.

I learned in kindergarten it’s important to tell the story.

I started kindergarten in the fall of 1955. We lived in the Renton Highlands then in one of those little cracker box homes built in 1942 to house the great influx of people who came here to work for Boeing and Pacific Car & Foundry (PACCAR) during World War II…

Our kindergarten class met in the basement of the neighborhood Baptist Church about five blocks from our home. I don’t recall much about it except a few fleeting little memories that somehow stuck with me through the years. Mostly I remember playing outside in a small field (which was actually a wee bit of lawn and a gravel parking lot).

The boys hung out together and played tag, kick ball, and told tall stories to each other. The girls? They had their girl clan and what they did or talked about remained mostly a mystery to me. I do recall sitting around a big table drawing on butcher paper. Then we’d all take turns and tell everyone the story in the picture. This was one of my favorite things to do. I loved drawing cars, houses, boats, fire trucks, and landscapes with lots of trees where great adventures took place.

I’m thinking I liked drawing (big) houses because my two brothers and I shared the same bedroom. My older brother Terry had his own bed and my younger brother Steve and I had the bunk-bed. I got to sleep on top! My dad being the super frugal practical kind of guy he was bought the beds from Army Surplus.

I still remember the blue & white pinstriped cotton mattresses that sat on a thick wire mesh connected to the brown steel frame with springs.

Absolutely guaranteed to withstand any degree of punishment and last until we were all grown up and left home.

And, they did!

In those days we spent most of our time outside and were always playing some kind of game. My aspirations to be a big sports star however was short lived. Born cross-eyed I had surgery the year before kindergarten. I have what’s called “learned depth perception” so I was very busy that year trying to figure out how close or far stuff was from me without getting bonked on the head or worse. The “learning” curve, suffice it to say, was steep.

I think that was about the time I decided I was gonna be a genius instead of a sports star. ;O)

All kidding aside, what I got from kindergarten was the bug for the creative process. Kindergarten was a wonderful environment (like home was) where we could be creative, expressive, and social. You could make cool things out of pretty much anything and we were free to use our imagination. As it turned out, it was my favorite year in academia that is until I got to college (which ironically was a lot like kindergarten).

And though “the Man” is often there to remind me life is about money, prestige, and expensive toys. I know that’s not necessarily true because…

“I learned in kindergarten it’s important to tell the story in the picture and share it with others.”

Tip of the hat to Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten. This post was originally created for the “Kindergarten ain’t just for kids!” contest on the Charles Buell blog at Activerain.

911

On this 10th anniversary of 9/11 I remember it like it was yesterday and I know exactly where I was and what I was doing when this terrible event took place. Hardly a memory has been engraved so deeply and clearly. For a guy like me who talks a lot about everything everywhere, I find it hard to articulate my thoughts and memories this day. The words don’t come easy and they seem feeble under the circumstances. I’m not sure why that is exactly yet I acknowledge previous wars, lost loves, broken dreams, and disappointments have made me a quieter man.

We don heroes and rightfully so. I am deeply indebted to those that have given of themselves so we might have a chance at a life and freedom. Today I am quiet in reflection and truly grateful. It seems to me today we’ve been fighting terrorism forever and maybe forever we must.

No words articulates the dichotomy of war, the longing to be with a loved one, and the call of sacrifice by soldiers and citizens alike than the Jimmy Webb song Galveston, sung by Glen Campbell.

Bless you victims of 9/11 and flight 93, and all of you that belong to them. You remain in my heart, my thoughts and prayers, along with so many loved ones we’ve lost over the decades. Bless you…

Sit down, get started, and keep it simple

I studied music composition with Lockrem Johnson back in the 1970’s and I fondly remember and cherish to this day a story he once told. Back in the early 40’s he was an up and coming composer and studying with George McKay at the University of Washington.

Bela Bartok, one of the great composers of the 20th century was in town and George McKay introduced him to Lockrem. As the story goes, George asked Bela, “and what advice might you have for this aspiring young composer?”

Bartok replied…
“Sit down, get started, and keep it simple.”

In 2000 I found a book titled, The Eighth Lively Art: Conversations with Painters, Poets, Musicians, and the Wicked Witch of the West, by Wesley Weher. Wesley was a student of Lockrem’s in the late 40’s and told a similar story about Bartok’s advice to a group of student composers at the University as, “Keep your music simple! Don’t try to say everything at once.”

I’m thinking a little artistic license was probably used in both versions, but none the less they’re both great advice for starting any creative process. If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s to trust the process (especially when I’m doubting it). You never know when an idea will occur, or exactly what it will be. But if your mind is open you’ll accept what the universe has to offer you and run with it.

Post Script…
Dell Wade, a gifted composer and friend of mine would head up to Lockrem’s house in Lake Forest Park most Saturdays and spend the better part of the day studying composition, listening to music, and helping out with everything from housework to paperwork for his publishing company, Puget Music Publications.

Lockrem had an amazing sense of humor. He loved telling stories, guess it games, and practical jokes. I remember one day we were playing ‘guess what Beethoven Sonata this is?’ and he’d only play the 1st note. Good times, great memories. I’ll have to do so more writing about Lockrem.

Lockrem Johnson    Bela Bartok    George McKay    Wesley Weher   

Originally posted on Activerain.com … by René Fabre

Happy Birthday Dad

Dad would have been 90 years old today. He was born in Newcastle, Washington in 1921 in a coal mining camp. The second son to George and Pauline Fabre. As a young boy he was inspired to be an accordion player like his Uncle Pete Delaurenti. That was in the midst of the Great Depression and money was scarce. But his Grandma Céline Boulanger believed in him, bought the accordion, and helped him pay for lessons.

Like all boys, there were times I wanted to be just like him, and times I didn’t (especially in the 60’s during the English Invasion). Yet time passed and I became a dad myself. As the saying goes, he got a lot smarter as I got older. Then more time passes and I find myself in my mid 40’s. I was getting ready for work one morning when it hit me. I looked in the mirror and, “Oh my God, I’m turning into the old man!”

It’s a guy thing… Towards the end of his life he was kind of a caricature of himself. Simply put, a real character who lovingly (and sometimes frustratingly) bordered on the eccentric. He identified so strongly with the working man, but in all reality I don’t think he had a clue what their day was like. He was so totally oblivious as to how different his life experience was compared to their’s.

Dad and Uncle Pete before WWII

He didn’t work a factory job 40 hours a week Monday through Friday like most. He would have worked them into the ground. Dad taught music lessons 5 and 6 days a week from his home studio and played clubs 4, 5, and 6 nights a week. He wasn’t the big flashy Mr. Hollywood or Las Vegas type entertainer. He was a dedicated musician who if the truth be known, was quite shy.

Dad and brother Steve circa @ 1961

Yet, when he picked up his accordion and started to play the room was transformed. For the next few hours the toil and trouble of life was totally forgotten and the crowd was wisked away into a Twilight Time of joy and dancing. I witnessed this magic for several decades and it never ceased to amaze me.

He probably worked too hard and burned the candle at both ends. Yet he couldn’t have done it any other way I’m certain. He was simply wired that way, driven, always on a mission with urgency, always striving to be better. Yet somehow, he always managed to make time for us. Dad passed away in 1998 and I have to admit it seems weird when I realize he’s been gone for 13 years.

He was quiet spoken man except when he got mad. Fair, humble, honest, frugal, he’d help anyone if they needed it. Dad was a loyal Republican. He believed that was his best chance to keep the government’s hand out his pocket as he used to say. He’d always joke about his vote getting canceled because Mom was a Democrat.

Dad was a great story teller and I especially loved the ones about World War II. He had some amazing adventures and served under Patton with distinction. It wasn’t until years later that I connected the dots and realized he never talked about the bad one’s like the Normandy Invasion, Battle of the Bulge, and the liberation of the death camps.

Dad @ mid 60’s… (while I was in High School)

He could get pretty upset about little things sometimes, yet when something big happened he took it all in stride. I remember when I was 15 and snuck the car out on a rainy Sunday morning to do my paper route. I got the right back wheel stuck in a ditch and had to walk a couple of miles home. I woke him up to tell him what happened knowing I was gonna die but he didn’t say a word until we were about half way there. Driving Mom’s car he kept looking straight ahead, nodded his head a few times and said in a quiet voice, “You know… You do some pretty dumb things sometimes.” That’s all he said, but the silence was deafening and my heart sank realizing I had disappointed him.

Dad started up his 52 Plymouth, rocked it back and forth a few times and got it out of the ditch. It didn’t dawn on me how we were going to get two cars back home. “You got it here, you’ll drive it back.” And away we went. Of course when we got home Mom wasn’t so quiet about the incident.

Now it’s my turn already. I’m the oldest guy now. The kids are grown and I wonder about the childhood stories they share.

Happy Birthday Dad.

Thanks. I’m glad we got to talk.

Live Music is Best!

At the Renton Farmers Market last Tuesday I stopped by to pick up some fresh veggies. I drive right by the Piazza downtown Renton most weekdays on my way home.

I’ve blogged about the Renton Farmers Market a few times but today it’s about the music. As I drove by I could hear a small ensemble rocking out on an old Ramsey Lewis tune, The In Crowd. I parked my truck a few blocks away and as I walked back to the Piazza I could hear the music bouncing between buildings.

It was just after 6:00 pm and the Market closes at 7:00. I felt like I was late and hearing the music created a sense of urgency. I didn’t want to miss anything. As I crossed the street and realized I was walking faster and faster I laughed out loud at myself (which got me a few odd looks). There’s nothing more exciting than live music.

Hey, it’s a group of guys I know from Renton. They threw a ‘pickup band’ together. There’s my friend John Giuliani again playing the standup bass. I just saw him a few weeks ago at the Lakeshore Retirement Home playing bass and accordion with a different group.

I enjoy this kind of music making. It’s like playing a pickup basketball game. These guys are great players and know their craft. What the audience is doing determines the next song as they make up the show as they go. It’s a wonderfully unpretentious atmosphere where everyone young and old can relax and enjoy being together on a summer evening, listening to music, surrounded by all kinds of fabulous things to eat.

Nobody gets that better than kids. Out of nowhere this bunch assembled themselves in front of the band. It didn’t matter to them that the music was mostly from their grandparents generation. It was fun and away they went dancing, playing, laughing, holding hands, having a blast.

The top of the evening was a rousing ‘audience participated’ rendition of Bye Bye Blackbird. We were hysterically lame and mumbled through the lyrics, but when the verse came round we all chimed in loudly and with great enthusiasm Bye Bye Blackbird, followed by a wave of laughter.

A great way to spend a summers eve.
Pack up all your cares and woe, here we go, singing low…

Live Music is Best!

Check the Rear View Mirror!

I was in that blissful state of not quite half a sleep, not yet awake, and dreaming. I was well into a sci-fi like dream about how we were all in a big hurry trying to get to the future first. “Is it a race?” It seemed paramount, “where is ‘first’ in the future anyway? Then Poof! To late, so sad, I’m awake, and it quickly fades then the alarm goes off.

I’ve been kicking this idea around the last week or so about life is like driving a car. What keeps coming up for me is the thought, “It’s important to keep your eyes on the road ahead of you, but don’t forget to be aware of what’s going on behind you and from where you came…”

Check the Rear View Mirror.

Dang, I’m out of coffee this morning! I have a Costco run planned so I didn’t buy any at the big box grocery store. I’m no fool, I got my recession corrected head on. So I opt to swing by Starbucks which throws me into a different little internal conflict. Darn those budgets anyway! I recall a Bush message from a few years back, “Be a good citizen and go shopping.”

As I walk in I see a familiar group of faces sitting at a table back in the corner. They see me coming through the door and invite me to join their table. “Sure, I’ll be right over”, and I order my Pike’s Place drip, room for cream, my affordable favorite.

As I join the table I’m thinking what a great way to start the day with some of my real estate pals. The conversation is mixed and as you would expect there were stories and speculation about the current state of our market. Some were working on new deals, others were trying to get there listings sold, and one was in the quagmire of a nightmare short sale. And yes, the inevitable question came up, “When do you think the market is going to turnaround and get better?”

I started my career in title back in 1984 and lately I’m seeing a little irony in that and catch myself thinking about the George Orwell novel. (Must have been the dream?) I’ve known these guys a long time. We’ve shared a lot of stories over the years and we’ve attended numerous events together. We’ve all spent time volunteering to help orphans, the abused, and those in the military. We’ve done drives for local food banks, cleaned up yards and homes for the elderly, and gathered toys for tots at Christmas. One of the attender’s was even Santa Claus a few times. Good memories.

We didn’t solve any of the world’s problems this morning. Just some local guys hanging out for a few, slurping some coffee, catching up. Maybe times are uncertain, but at that moment it was like looking into a mirror and it gave me a sense of belonging and comfort. Knowing I had a shared past with these guys gave me some continuity and the future seemed brighter somehow. We’ll make it…

Time to hit the road. I’m sufficiently caffeinated now with a head full of conversation and stories to think about. This was the idea I was really kicking around. It just happened. Thanks guys!

“It’s important to keep your eyes on the road ahead of you, but don’t forget to be aware of what’s going on behind you and from where you came…”

Check the Rear View Mirror.