Lost in the Flood

“Life is a long lesson in humility.”

James M. Barrie (1860 - 1937)

One year ago today my wife died, but through the marvels of modern medicine, a handful of luck and a one of the nation’s most talented brain surgeon she survived a ninety-nine in hundred death sentence. Since then everything has changed but everything remains the same. As we celebrate her first birthday of a second life, we are blessed to have a chance so few are privileged to experience. As pages turn it is not without a price to pay for what was lost in the flood.

In attempt to find comfort in the routine of her previous life, my wife shortly after her release from the hospital, dove head first back into her career against everyone’s better judgment. It was a period of denial that the event ever happened, a desire to prove the world was no different, refusing to accept that she was even lucky. I’ve come to realize she did not experience or comprehend the threshold of death. For her it was the easiest of progressions to stroll into the afterlife as convenient as slipping out of a jacket on a sunny day. Ultimately, it was my near death experience not hers. I had experienced it as if I had left my body hovering above her in the hospital.

For over thirty years her identify was one of a powerful executive, a consummate professional that was sought out for an unparalleled depth of knowledge and ability. Throughout a varied and diverse career she managed multiple offices with a staff of over thirty, established a new Midwest division of six offices for a national corporation and held leadership positions in every aspect of a complex financial industry for a dozen companies. She did all of this without post secondary education using her perceived inferiority as a strong motivational tool to push ahead of her peers. Driven to succeed does not adequately capture the years of working 80 hour weeks. For a lifetime she possessed a defining personal identity which was her foundation of self assurance. Between heartbeats on that day one year ago everything about who she was changed.

Twelve months of healing and evaluation has revealed the final extent of the collateral damage emerging from a shifting fog of uncertainty and hope. It has been a challenging time for both of us as I sit helpless watching her reconcile her new life against the old. In her solicitude, she excruciatingly compares her previous person with the limitations of the new. For months her primary focus was to hide each new disability as they became apparent while attempting to continue her career. Short term memory loss, reduced analytical capacity and significantly diminished reading comprehension unleashed a flood of emotions I have never seem as she struggled to hold on to an exposed root of self respect in a seething river current of personal loss. The detailed neurological assessments have uncovered her amazing ability to adapt, to compensate and how brain function while so fragile responds in mystical ways.

An area of significant impact was her ability to process the spoken word, part comprehension and part short term memory. As a result she has developed an acute visual perception. In order to process the spoken word she will write the message out in her hand with an imaginary finger so that comprehension bypasses the disrupted audio paths and is communicated to the brain visually. It astounds me on resilience our brain is, finding new pathways to repair damage. She was so good at compensating in other ways that the disability was hidden until the neurophysiologist tested a fully range of brain function.

Slowly over the months it became apparent that the collateral damage exceeded her ability to function at a high level in her career. The constant struggle and deception took the fight out of her as she reluctantly came to realize that she no longer wanted to work so hard making people believe nothing had changed. The experience has been only what I can describe as a recovery from a modest form of Alzheimer’s. It has given me a fearful perspective of the unimaginable horror of descending into Alzheimer’s without hope of recovery. It is with certainty that we all will at different rates descend into humility suffering indignity of losing what we cherish. If only by the grace of god, we live long enough whatever fortifies the core of your soul will be taken from you, beauty, mind, body, memories, family, privacy, independence, leaving us all naked at the door of death. Without ceremony we transgress to frail, tattered broken reflections of our former selves, a slow process yielding to nature. Each small loss of mobility, functionality, range, stamina and endurance signals the eventual slow waltz with life’s close. There is no apology for my morose ramblings for they are only a statement of truth whether or not we want to recognize the final and inescapable law of nature.

Gradually through a curtain of tears and fears she accepted the new direction life has taken, but the shift is still undermined by the loss of self assurance, confidence and self identify. This has fundamentally changed our relationship and the level of nurturing she requires. A previous relationship of equals, powerful and decisive, a collective balance is now in flux and redefinition. The fine balance of shared responsibility has been disrupted, at times taking on a parent and child persona as I am possibly overcompensating in a sheltering protective fashion. I find myself doting on her as if she is helpless which she is not, but I find her much more pensive and unsure of decisions. She is in the final stages of obtaining approval for long term disability which will complete her transition to her new life.

One of the remaining mysteries has been her loss of appetite for which I have taken her to specialists and physicians over and over without discovering a cause. Every time we recieve a clean bill of health. She has lost 40 pounds and is now struggling to fill a size 0. I think she has stabilized at this weight which is of no apparent concern to her. The extreme weight lost probably makes me more protection because she seems so frail. At a critical point during one of the visits to the neurosurgeon, he highly recommended that she quite smoking because there is a number of small defects on the other side of her brain and smoking is a significant factor in increasing the risk that these defects can develop into another rupture. He also suggested that she get a chest x-ray because an unexplained weight loss such as hers could be cancer. As we walked out of the doctor’s office she lit up a cigarette and looked up at me to say “I think that went well.” I have to admit it was one of the few times in our marriage I totally lost it. It was a blur but I think my first words were “What fucking planet do you live on!!!!!” It remains an unresolved issue, a small defiant stand on personal choice and independence she is unwilling to relinquish.

A requirement of the short term disability policy is that she stop working which was a struggle at first but now she quietly sits at home cleaning long forgotten items while spending time with her mother. The days drift by in a series of never ending errands and casual meanderings as her daily interaction with the outside world shrinks. After thirty years of making her clients successful, catering to their every need, becoming close in decades old relationships, I’m astounded how quickly they have all disappeared without a trace which makes me angry at their shallowness.

Although not obvious to her I watch each day like a hawk gauging her level of satisfaction and personal fulfillment always concerned that her departure from the spotlight will manifest itself into depression. On occasion she will look at her laptop with wistful eye of a life departed, but just as quickly her gaze will focus on the dust that has accumulated on its lid as she goes to get a dusting rag. Each day I pray she finds solace and balance in her second life. When the times are right I probe by asking her simply “Are you happy. Is everything going alright?” The answer always takes much longer than I feel it should, revealing an unresolved internal debate, but is unquestionably “Yes I’m happy”. I intentionally leave an awkward silent pause to allow for the recrimination or retraction that never comes.

None of us can know what the future shall bring. We all travel our separate road making decisions based on the moment. Even in retrospect I’m not sure we can judge if those decisions are for the better or the worst, they are just a milepost in a journey that ends sometime and someplace in the future. Personally, I’ve always had to reconcile my family legacy of early departures to the afterlife. As they say “We don’t make old bones.” This lifelong realization might be an underlying factor in my frantic pace; a life line that could be measured in years not decades if family history determines the odds and probabilities. What will I leave behind unfulfilled? As we all walk to the fateful edge of existence what dreams will be broken, what desires will haunt final our thoughts, what love will be lost in the flood?

As each natural disaster cleanses the land with undirected violence, sculpting the earth into new patterns we learn anew to navigate our altered world by the sun and heavens having faith in those things unchanged in a changed landscape. Adapting to circumstances while picking of the pieces of our life we walk into an uncertain future only knowing those things that we lost in the flood but always thankful, hopeful to experience another spring morning, another summer afternoon, another sunset, another starlit night, just another chance to breath.

"Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come. “

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)

North Beach Discovery

How about a Sunday lunch with four hundred thousand of your closest friends? Streets filled with long tables overflowing with Italian pasta, bread and wine. Smiling faces engaged in jovial laughter and conversation while the warm fall sun illuminates the festivity as a parade slowly snakes by. A history of passing on folk traditions from one generation to the next for 138 years is evident as your stroll the streets. By accident we stumbled on San Francisco’s Annual Italian Heritage Parade on Columbus Day which is distinguished as the City's oldest civic event and the nation's oldest Italian-American parade. What a beautiful way to spend a lazy Sunday.

“The trouble with eating Italian food is that five or six days later you're hungry again.”

George Miller

A Room with a View

Penthouse View, San Francisco, Photo by Mr. Blue

Sometimes I lie awake at night

And wonder

Where the years have gone

They have all passed under

Sleep's dark and silent gate

Bonnie Raitt

Where Real Men Eat, Part 2

Hollywood Cafe, San Francisco. Photo by Mr. Blue

"Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside."

Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)

Inconceivable

How does one spend two days in Napa Valley during a spectacular fall weekend and never leave a board meeting? It becomes an inconceivable distraction sitting around a dark windowless board room viewing a complicated agenda while paradise calls you like a temptress to an escape only a few feet from your reach. Only while driving back to San Francisco did I fully appreciate how much did I miss. I’m beginning to see a subtle shift in my priorities from civic commitment to self indulgence.

“Meetings are an addictive, highly self-indulgent activity that corporations and other organizations habitually engage in only because they cannot actually masturbate.”

Alain van der Heide

The Pitch

“One of the hardest tasks of leadership is understanding that you are not what you are, but what you're perceived to be by others.”

Edward L. Flom

Walking out of the terminal dense humid air blankets the ground like a wet sheet as small drops of moisture clings to my glistening skin. The airport is abandon in darkness as everything wet from the lazy rain. Taking my suit jacket off, I carefully fold it placing it neatly into my black leather carry on bag. I never remember how steamy Miami is during this time of year and always wear a jacket which becomes just another useless piece of dead weight to tote around during the trip. Looking around the street I struggle to recall, if the surroundings look familiar or not. After so many years of perpetual motion everywhere appears both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I scan the terminal for recognizable clues to jump start my brain. It is like I’m retracing a past life which is haunting me through a foggy haze. I decide the clues are inconclusive, but don’t know if I’m been here before as I maneuver shallow puddles with its surface dancing from the fleeting raindrops as I drift to hotel pick-up zone.

Calling the hotel service they indicate a shuttle bus will pick me up in twenty five minutes. Glancing at me watch I note the time, 1:15 am and make the calculation that I will finally get checked in to the hotel sometime close to 2:00 am. My stomach is churning from what feels like an excess of caffeine, but because my lack of consumption of caffeine, I attribute my queasiness to adrenaline. The weakness in my stomach is coupled with a low grade headache that has slowly begun to grip my shoulders. The dull constant pounding wraps over my left ear down the neck to my back. It has been about a week since I’ve had a restful night of sleep. I’m currently working on about three hours of sleep a night anticipating tomorrow’s presentation. To relieve the fatigue I raise face to the sky allowing the warm drizzle to cleanse my forehead.

Travel is filled with wasted time. Time that has no meaning or purpose, no ability to contribute, just hollow gaps in life that contain unending small eternities of personal boredom. All one can do trapped in these wasted voids is to peer out at the future, helplessly waiting for the journey to continue, waiting for the motion to begin. On the road time is elastic and discontinuous as hour disappear is a blink of an eye while other moments painfully drag in a torturous slow motion. Over the years I’ve developed the ability to shift my thoughts into neutral, a self induced trance effectively disarming my emotions. Mental adaptation to time is critical in preserving emotional sanity on the road. It’s acknowledgement that I’m not in control of the circumstances, a freeing of the confirmed spirit allowing frustration, anger, stress and ire to dissipate into thin air. I focus on the warm raindrops striking my face recalling childhood memories of walking in a late afternoon summer rain. Then as if by magic, as if summoned from a dark void within me, the hotel shuttle rounds the empty sullen street and pulls up next to me opening the door with a rusty squeak.

Secure in an emotionless trance I silently sit without speaking to the shuttle driver as the bus turns and twists bumpy dark streets of an ugly wasteland of rusty metal industrial buildings scattered randomly in open expanses of asphalt tarmac decorated by chain link fences topped with ribbons of gleaming razor wire. Off in the distance is a small darken form of a palm tree. It is the only clue that I’m in semitropical Miami. Emerging from an endless series of grey concrete ramps and overpasses a colorful glow appears on the horizon. Hues of purple and red neon light the night sky which could be mistaken for just another strip club that sits like an enticing oasis in the post nuclear environment surrounding most airports. Heading toward the glow in the sky the name of the hotel reveals itself through a low hanging mist. I dismiss the oddity that my ten story hotel is covered in neon like a strip club because its Miami, everything in Miami is covered in neon even the palm trees.

Traveling to Miami is as close to an international destination as anywhere in North America. The city gyrates to its own pulse as the gateway to South America and the Caribbean. Tomorrow’s presentation is to a large multinational corporation which employs more nationalities then the United Nations. Our evening’s reservation is with a French hotel chain housed in a tastefully renovated 1930 Art Deco building. The lobby is sleek and eclectic with white washed walls spotted with black and white vintage art photography. The staff is Moroccan, French and Cuban which add to the exotic charm.

The room is ample and modern with a large window which is illuminated with the soft pastels of the neon that trim the structure. I always have difficulty immediately falling asleep at night and require an hour or two to relax regardless of the time. My insomnia is more acute as I script tomorrow’s presentation over and over in my mind. Pulling aside the sheer curtains the window peers over a large pool deck which is also outlined in neon casting a surrealistic cartoon glow to the landscape. I pick up my camera and snap a few photos from the window before noticing a security guard staring at me from six stories below. Feeling self conscience I put the camera down and turn on the laptop to add the finals touches to the pitch. Finally, exhausted from the long day I pick up the phone at 3:45 am to request a 6:00 am wake-up call.

Miami Night. Photo by Mr. Blue

The interview team of four meets in the hotel restaurant for breakfast at 7:00 am. The white linen dining room is pure French tropical with exquisite rich black coffee served in glass Turkish presses. The food is above average due to the French cuisine as the interview team goes over the script and agenda in unrelenting detail. We then turn our attention to project schedule and costs which is a massive logistic undertaking as the papers cover the small table. We conclude breakfast with intensely grilling each other trying to identify all the questions we might be required to field during the presentation.

Preparations are over and its time to hale a cab to the headquarters. The cab driver laughs as we give him the address which is all of one block from the hotel. He is congenial as we inform him that he will have a hard time making his fortune my picking up deadbeats like us all the time. As we pile out of the cab into the sultry warm air the headquarters building is another nondescript blue glass box sitting on another nondescript business park road that is designed to punish anyone wanting to walk to another destination. Landscaping is used in a feeble attempt to cloak the hideous two story cheap concrete parking structures and acres of molten black asphalt as we walk toward the door. Miami is more fortunate than more with its ability to support lush highly manicured collections of exotic plants from around the world, which left unattended by the legions of migrant labor, would perish before your eyes.

Passing through an uninspired lobby, we are greeted by the receptionist who directs us to the conference room we are scheduled to present in. She points out the audio-visual equipment, turns and leaves us alone to set up. The conference room is well appointed with the newest of business teleconferencing equipment revealing the company’s broad international reach. Most interesting is the piles of discarded presentation props, sample boards, posters, models which indicates we have reached the inner lair of the real decision makers. We are in the inner sanctum of the power elite where the future is forged. It is like we are surrounded by the bones and remains of the hopeful that have preceded us. Some of the remains are quite elaborate and creative, while others are crude and rudimentary. I wonder if the previous presenter fled leaving the debris or was it abandon after the approach was ripped apart. Confirming that our equipment works without problems, we sit down and wait their arrival.

Quietly I lower my head and close my eyes to focus internal energy painting positive mental images in my mind. Years ago this important of a presentation would rattle nerves and make me unsure that I was fully prepared to lead the presentation. Today is different because I’m completely in control of the concept, approach and rationale. I created a solution that did not exist before and one that the company will realize they can’t live without. I carefully picked the supporting members of the team and crafted the story they will tell. I’ve detailed the schedule to a level that exceeds the client’s understanding of their own project. The presentation is the culmination of months of inventive thinking and we are completely prepared. It is important when dealing with investments of millions of dollars of other people’s money that you exude leadership, strength and decisiveness.

The door opens and five executives dressed in business casual walk in and introduce themselves. Our primary contact for the project has been Rebecca, who is a young attractive professional formally from the pharmaceutical industry. She introduces the other project executives, the vice president of international operations, the facilities director, the operations director and the vice president of new product development. I am immediately impressed with the intelligence of the group as they conclude some business small talk. Smiling to myself I realize we have been placed in front of the cream of the organization and they have come to challenge our ideas. It is moments like theses that I live for, an assembly of powerful, smart, passionate professionals that don’t want to waste time and have come to make the future happen. It is all about vision and possibility with a group like this.

Rebecca informs me that we half 45 minutes and notes that two of the executives will need to leave at that time for other appointments as she turns the floor over to me. I begin by thanking everyone from taking time from their busy schedule and start in discussing the origins of our team. Everyone loves a story that conveys the reason that we come to this point in time with the people present. I use the story to build the relationship between the team members that have evolved over years and even decades. It’s a way to weave in humor, professionalism, expertise, commitment, passion and vision. The conclusion of the story is the reason we are before the group, creating a circular reference back to the present.

Body language is one of the most revealing gestures during an interview. If properly recognized and interpreted body language is an unfair advantage to the presenter exposing the true emotions of the listener. I am able to discern the social order of the group just by how they glance at each other during questions. The subtle gestures convey interest, confusion, disbelief or intrigue. This group is fully engaged with the two lesser executives deferring to the senior executives though subtle unspoken gestures. I turn my attention to the decision makers while still maintaining contact with the others. One must be careful not to slight or ignore anyone at the table for they can become the individuals that could force a hung jury into indecision.

The presentation shifts dramatically as the executives begin to understand the magnitude of the project complexity. The naïve assumptions that preceded this project direction are exposed and the group collectively is overwhelmed by the logistics of implementing the project within the compressed schedule. The questions begin to fly madly at us like bats bolting out of a cave at night. Deftly I field the hardballs and direct them to the appropriate team member who has been scripted on the correct answer. I allow the presentation to be temporarily sidetracked because the questions drive toward each individual’s hidden agenda. The group is extremely intelligent and is able to make the complex connections that we have prepared for much later in the presentation. I attempt table the discussion until the proper section in the presentation and am able to proceed somewhat further down the presentation before the next series of questions erupt.

Many years of experience and hundreds of presentations allows me to steer a fine line between open debate and uncontrollable chaos. Once again I curtail the discussion forcing us back on the scripted presentation because we have systematically anticipated their questions and concerns. Time is beginning to become a concern as we approach the time where two executives will leave and we risk not finishing with our conclusions. As our scientist is bogging down on technical information I advance the slides to push him along while politely acknowledging that we have worked together so long that I know where to push. It gets a laugh from the mostly serious crowd. At one point I begin to fear that the discussion is getting out of hand and the group is about to make important decisions without the benefit of all the facts. I forcefully curtail the discussion and more back to our presentation.

To my amazement the time for the two executives to leave comes and goes. They are so fully engrossed in the discussion that they intentionally delay their departure. This is the most positive signal possible in a presentation like this. We have risen to a level of priority that now supersedes their previous commitments. We have completely captured the decision makers so that all other duties are secondary for the moment. We are playing with dynamite by suggesting the incredible complexity of the project and the daunting magnitude to the logistics, but confidently assuring the group we are the only team capable of delivering the project without question. At one point the discussion taking an ominous turn as someone suggests the project is not feasible and should be abandoned. Alarmed I quickly rescue the discussion by offering that the technical issues are not insurmountable, but will require additional investigation. It is the true academic conclusion to all reports “further research is required”.

Rebecca concludes the presentation with one question “Why should we hire the team?” I openly laugh at the question because it is the most elemental question of all interviews and somehow, I overlooked preparing for that question. In my mind the omission in our preparation is so oblivious that my own body language is revealing how tickled I am with the penetrating simple question that I have no answer for. It is a moment of ironic pleasure as I am completely stumped and admit to the group that we were so immersed in solving their problem, failed to prepare for that fundamental question. As an attribute of the quality team I assembled, one of them answers the question with stunning relevance and brilliance leaving me cackling in the corner.

The presentation concludes with warm handshakes and congratulations on how exceptional our preparation was. I glance at my watch and note that we held the two executives almost 40 minutes past their previous appointments. Rebecca asks for copies of the presentation which we have prepared for and hand her a CD containing all the information presented. The team assembles the equipment and says goodbye to the group. Once again we walk out into the warm humid air of south Florida to wait for a decision from the group. We silently smile at each other knowing the pitch went well as the sun caresses our faces. This is what we do I think to myself. The future is uncertain and we may not know for weeks if we were selected or if another team controlled the process better than us. In time we will hear the decision of the executives concerning their investment of millions of dollars. Until then I will fondly recall the pitch where I was unprepared to answer the most elemental question of all, “Why should we hire you?”

“In the modern world of business, it is useless to be a creative original thinker unless you can also sell what you create. Management cannot be expected to recognize a good idea unless it is presented to them by a good salesman.”

David M. Ogilvy