Two Paths

The guy on the left is a CPA, the dog on the right is a Certified Party Animal.

My son earned his CPA recently.

It’s a proud moment. He has worked so hard.

When Ben went down this road, I didn’t really have an appreciation of how hard it is to pursue a degree and a career in public accounting.

But I quickly learned that accounting is an immensely taxing discipline—pun very much intended.

Earning an accounting degree from the University of Florida and later a master’s at FAU required a huge commitment. Luckily, Ben’s experience at Atlantic High School’s IB program prepared him for the copious amount of studying it takes to make it through.

It was a far cry from my experience at SUNY Oswego in the 80s where studying took a back seat to going to the tavern with my buddies.

When given the choice between the library and pitchers of Genesee Cream Ale, well let’s just say the Dewey Decimal System didn’t stand a chance. I had a group of entertaining friends who went by names like “Tank” and “Large Guy.” There was a kid from Utica who had a blank stare and never said a word and there was a guy who looked like Bob Denver from Gilligan’s Island. I think the quiet guy became an accountant.

Large Guy never went to class, and I found that…well… I didn’t really give it a thought.

My day of classes would be ending, and I would be coming back to my dorm room when I would see him in a robe paddling down the hallway on the way to the showers. He was just waking up when my day of classes were ending.

One year, when my friend Scott and I had a late final before Christmas break, we wandered back to the dorm after our test. It was dark and cold and windy, because it was Oswego and it was always dark, cold and windy.

We no longer lived in the dorm, but we went back to our old floor in Hart Hall for something. We saw Large Guy sitting in the TV lounge, alone in the dark, watching a small black and white television.

He had nowhere to go. It was a pathetic site. We took pity on him and invited him to our off-campus house because we knew the dorms would be closing and we weren’t sure where he would end up.

It was an early act of mercy, not common when you’re a young man focused on things like 10-cent wings and Monday Night Football.

We felt good about our benevolence for about two minutes which is when Large Guy got on our nerves on the long walk from campus to our house on a dark, cold, and windy Oswego night.

I graduated with a degree in political science, which was a decent background for my first career in journalism. But I have to say that my son’s focus on a profession was smarter than my haphazard approach to my formal education.

I’ve learned a lot after leaving school. I’ve had to learn on the fly, reinvent a few times and fake it till I made it more times than I can count.

It’s been exhausting.

I have zero complaints and things have certainly worked out for me. I’m a grateful guy but my son is taking the smarter path.

He’s building the scaffolding first. He’s made the investment and he’s paid his dues. Now he can go anywhere knowing he has that scaffolding beneath him. I wonder what that’s like.

Accountants get a bad rap in our society. They are often the butt of jokes about being boring. But I’ve noticed that many CEO’s have a background in accounting.

They may not have stayed in the profession, but they parlayed their expertise to lead companies and they will often credit their success to the knowledge they gained studying accounting.

Lately, there has been a lot of anxiety over Artificial Intelligence and its potential to possibly replace humans in a variety of fields; accounting being one of those endeavors.

That may be true, but I have to think that the human touch will never go out of style.

At least I hope it won’t.

I’m here to make a case for people over machines. For face-to-face interactions over screens.

Give me a town hall meeting over a social media page and a doctor’s visit over telemedicine. Oh, I get the convenience of computers, but we must never give our entire selves over to bits and bytes.

Recently, I listened to an audiobook on Spotify for the first time. I chose Arnold Schwarzenegger’s new book “Be Useful” because I like Arnold and because it was short. I also love his accent. I’ve been talking to the dogs in my Arnold “Terminator” voice for the past week. “I’ll be back,” I tell them when I leave for the office in the morning.

The book was pretty good—Arnold said a whole lot that I agreed with, and he said some things that made me want to debate him. That’s a good thing. He challenged my thinking.

Arnold repeated over and over that he was not a “self-made” man. He generously credits a slew of mentors who helped him achieve success in bodybuilding, Hollywood, politics, and philanthropy.

I love that he shared his gratitude for those who lent a helping hand to him along the way. Too many famous people subscribe to the “I’m a genius” mindset and that’s why I made it. But we all know that success is a team sport.

And so, Arnold urges us to find mentors and to mentor others. In the age of selfies, we need to look beyond ourselves and connect with others. And that is not only good advice for a happy life, but also a guarantee that we won’t just look to ChatGPT to write all of life’s essays.

So, I agreed with Arnold on that major theme of the book. But I did think he was a little hard on formal education, particularly college. Yes, going to a university can be expensive and student loan debt is a real burden. But there is something to be said about spending a few years learning to live on your own. It’s valuable to spend some time letting your mind wander by taking courses in history, philosophy and in my case creative writing (the only course I ever failed). And there’s certainly value in prepping for a profession such as accounting. Higher education is a place for both exploring and digging deep.

I did one of those…I explored. And I’ve been exploring ever since. My son did both—he had fun and he went deep and developed a skill. I think he made the right decision. We are so proud of him.

Mike Wigderson

Note:
We lost retired Delray Fire Rescue Assistant Michael Wigderson last week. It’s a big loss.

Chief Wigderson was a wonderful man, a believer in Delray Beach and a major contributor to our community.

He was a big reason why we have the very best Fire Department in the state, and he worked extremely well for a long time with Chief Kerry Koen.

When I learned of Mike’s passing, I reached out to Kerry who shared a few stories of Mike’s can-do spirit, his positivity, and his unwavering commitment to Delray.

Chief Wigderson was very involved in St. Vincent’s Church and quietly helped so many people in our community when they needed it most.

We’ve lost a wonderful man.

This has been a very difficult year for our Fire Department with the loss of five (that I can count) key contributors.

When all is said and done, life is a “people business.” If we’re lucky we attract good people who devote their lives to a cause, a community or an endeavor that enriches others.

Mike was a good man. And Delray was lucky to have him. So lucky.

We wish Sue and his family peace during this difficult time. May his memory be a blessing.

Gord’s Gift

Music as medicine.

We interrupt our regular programming to talk about the loss of Gordon Lightfoot.

The Canadian singer-songwriter passed away at 84 last week and I’ve been playing his music non-stop.

Each song perfectly crafted, every song a story, revealing truths that are universal and lasting. And that’s why the music of Gordon Lightfoot will endure.

Music is the most magical art form. The best songs reach into our souls and tap into something deep.

I’ve been listening to a broad range of Gordon Lightfoot’s songs this week, but I keep going back to “If You Could Read My Mind.”
The song was released in 1970 and 53 years later, after countless plays, it still packs a wallop.

In 3 minutes and 49 seconds, Gordon captures love gone wrong, failure, the loss of passion and the pain of being brutally honest. It’s not an angry song. It’s a love song. But he’s letting go and it breaks your heart.

In under four minutes, I’ve taken a ride with a master and the music allows me to better understand my own journey.

If you’ve ever had love and lost it, the song just slays because of its truth and its humanity.

This is what great art does—it touches us, shapes us, defines us, and makes us feel things we’d just as soon bury.

I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember.

But as I grow older, the songs reach deeper, and I find I need them more to help me understand a very confusing world. I am rediscovering old songs, listening to lots of new music and searching for songs that convey meaning.

It’s a happy search and when I find a special song or a promising artist, I want to share my discovery with my wife Diane. It’s like sending flowers that last forever.

My friend Blake shared something on Facebook after Gordon Lightfoot passed. It was from a column written by Bob Lefsetz. Lefsetz is one of my favorite writers because he angers and delights me often in the same piece. Here it is:

“I’m not talking about a performer. I’m not talking about an award-winner. I’m not talking about someone who is rich. I’m talking about someone who learns the basics and then walks into the wilderness, on their own journey, following their own compass, not someone else’s. And it’s got nothing to do with what you look like, but rather what goes on in your brain. AI (Artificial Intelligence) can create something that sounds like the past, but it can’t create something that sounds like the future, after all it’s based on scraping the internet, and the new, the bleeding edge, the breakthroughs are never there. No one can teach you to be an artist. Not even Rick Rubin. Sure, you can be encouraged, but more often you’re discouraged. The odds are too long. Your choices are bad. You’re not that good. But some stay the course and break through. That’s Gordon Lightfoot.

Decades from now people might not know Gordon’s name, but I guarantee you they’ll be singing his songs. Because they contain truth, and for that reason they are timeless. But it’s not only the words, but the changes and the vocals. Gordon Lightfoot had it all. I’d implore you to remember him, but his songs will do the work for him.”

Yes!

Those songs will do the work. They will endure. Mr. Lefsetz captures the artistic process, it’s about finding your voice, sharing insights, revealing truths—even if they are inconvenient, maybe especially if they are inconvenient. This is how we evolve as people.

Art endures.

Art moves us forward or makes us look back and truly see.

There’s so much noise in our world these days…so many distractions.

But art clarifies, explains, and raises questions too. Music enlightens, calms, excites, and touches us. It reminds us of our humanity.

And we need reminders.

“If you could read my mind, love

What a tale my thoughts could tell

Just like an old time movie

‘Bout a ghost from a wishing well

In a castle dark or a fortress strong

With chains upon my feet

But stories always end”

Yes, stories always end. But the music lives on.

Starry Starry Night

Vincent

“Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer’s day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.” Don McLean

Awash in color, surrounded by music and lost in beauty I had a thought.

Art endures. (Yes, I know that’s not original).
A lot of other things fade over time but great art lasts forever.
That was the takeaway after attending “Beyond Van Gogh” at the Ice Palace in Miami.
It’s a hot ticket and for good reason. The exhibit is spectacular, moving and technologically impressive.
The exhibit runs through July. If you can swing it, I highly recommend you check it out.
The exhibit celebrates the life and works of Vincent Van Gogh, spotlighting not only his art, but also his struggles and his close relationship with his brother Theo.
It’s all uniquely presented, an immersive experience that is hard to describe. Let’s just say it’s quite a spectacle. You are placed “in” the art and the results are powerful. It’s worth the crazy drive to Miami.
There are lots of lessons in the life and in the art of Van Gogh.
Despite becoming one of the most influential artists in history Van Gogh was not commercially successful, and his suicide at 37 came after years of mental illness, depression and poverty.
And yet there is something powerful and exuberant in his paintings.  
Van Gogh failed at other careers including an attempt at being a preacher and while productive as an artist he just couldn’t quite make it either financially or commercially. 
He did however, have a great relationship with his younger brother Theo. The two exchanged heartfelt letters for years and they are a treasure,
In fact, the letters are a big part of the exhibit and shed light on their loyalty to each other and their philosophy on art and beauty. 
Theo was an  art dealer and his unfailing financial and emotional support allowed his brother to devote himself entirely to painting. Theo died at the age of 33, six months after his brother died at the age of 37.
One of the causes listed for his death was sadness. He kept everything his older brother sent to him, Vincent did not.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Vincent since seeing the exhibit. Been reading about him as well. 
I’ve also been mulling over the meaning of art in our lives. 
We are big music fans in our home and I’m constantly seeking out songs to sort through emotions that I experience. 
As a child of the 70s, I gravitate to rock music and count myself lucky to have lived in an era of so many great musical artists whose gifts have become the soundtrack to our lives. 
Along the way, I’ve found so many songs that have gotten me through the joys and sorrows of life. If you want to dance, cry, mourn, think, feel heartache, feel alive or smile there’s a library of great music to live by. 
Seeing the work of Van Gogh makes me hungry to explore the visual arts. Because standing in the exhibit surrounded by LED lights and digital recreations of his art, we felt moved deep inside. 
The issues of the day come and go or come and stay but great art goes deeper. Much deeper to the best parts of ourselves, where the good stuff, the real stuff exists. 
If we’re lucky, we find artists who speak to our condition; who touch our souls and express who we truly are as people. 
That’s why art endures and the rest of the stuff we deal with is ephemeral. 
We need art. It’s that simple. It’s just that beautiful.

A Man, A Dog, A Van & A Blog

ManVanDog=Compelling

Worry less. Experience more.
That was the hashtag on a recent Instagram post from an account called ManVanDogBlog.
The author is an ex NFL player who walked away from the game, gave most of his possessions to charity, adopted a dog named Freedom, bought a 2007 Ford van and hit the road.
The trip is open ended and the man, his dog and the van travel where they feel like going.

It’s fascinating (and a little addicting)  to live vicariously through Joe Hawley and Freedom and see where the van takes our heroes.
And the worry less, experience more mantra is pretty compelling too.

It helps that our protagonists are so appealing.
Joe Hawley played 8 years in the NFL and walked away while he still could.  That’s takes courage.
Here’s Joe..

“What an incredible journey this has been! People keep asking how long I plan to be on the road or what I plan on doing when I’m done and the honest truth is..I don’t know. The reason I’m ok with that answer is because I truly believe that when I do decide to stop and figure out what’s next I’m going to be such a changed man. I continue to grow and get outside my comfort zone every single day. This trip continues to evolve into something bigger and more transformative than I ever could have imagined and it’s only been four months. What I’m trying to say is that I’m not worried about what the future has in store for me because it’s going to be bigger and more amazing than anything I can even dream of right now. So I’m going to enjoy the process, live in the moment and continue to grow every day. I’ll be right where I’m supposed to be. I have no doubt about it. Worry less. Experience more.”

I thought this was important to share because time flies. Life moves fast.

People get cancer.
People get old.
Kids grow up. Fast.
None of this is new information but sometimes we act as if these things aren’t so.

We skip the vacation. We don’t make time for lunch with friends. We don’t bother to look at the orchid in the yard or the beautiful ocean that is so close for those of us who live in Delray Beach and Boca Raton.

We forget about the neighbor we used to see while walking the dog, we realize we never use the pool anymore and that the tennis racket is gathering dust in the garage. We drive by Old School Square– but when’s the last time we took in a show?

You get the picture.
I do too.
I think they call it being present— living in the moment.
I try. I too often fail.
But I’m going to try a little harder. It’s a promise I’m making to myself.