Michael Williams, aka A Continuous Lean (ACL), included my blog post from last week in his latest edition of "Signals." You can find my post, and the entire Signals newsletter here. While I'm proud of my story making Michael's list of "interesting bits," I found another section of his newsletter focusing on consumption to be very interesting:
While the quote above is generally focused on consumption on a global scale and the rigors of supply/demand, it touches on something I've wrestled with on a personal level for a while.
In the story of my life, the chapter named after my twenties will be called, "the selfish years." I've looked back on this time with mostly fond memories. But there is a slight painful truth that floated to the surface: during my twenties I placed myself above all, my wants, my desires (mostly consumption based) ahead of everything else. (Insert Tyler Durden: you are not your three roll two blazer, Mercedes wagon, tassel loafers, or vacation to Paris) The way I ordered my priorities left my day-to-day life lacking satisfaction and void of real meaning and purpose. In other words, I was only eating the dessert of life, and it left me hungry and unsatisfied.
I still really like my clothes, cars, vacations, cigars, etc. But they are not my identity and will not fill me. They are the dessert of life and should be consumed after I've had my fill of faith, family, and community.
I know I needed to change something. I took a step back and thought, if what I'm doing now, living a life where every moment and decision is focused on fulfilling my latest (and often fleeting) desire is leaving me empty, lost, and sometimes downright depressed, maybe doing the opposite will give me the satisfaction I've been craving. It's a selfish inception-esqe thought. I knew I would need to find something that required me to do the things I dreaded: give up my precious personal time, give away some of my hard-earned paycheck, get over my introvert personality and engage with strangers face to face, all in the pursuit of doing something that wouldn't benefit me directly. After a short search, I decided I could accomplish these goals by joining a social service organization.
Since joining, I've connected with men who want to give back to their community. Their enthusiasm for service is contagious. I'm naturally a cynic but being around guys who've being doing this for years, some almost a decade or more sharing their stories and discussing fundraising and volunteering events, quickly melted my hesitations. I know reading this can seem corny. I'm almost certain it is in some degree. But you only have to "follow the science" to see why this has had this affect on me. A 2020 study done in the U.K. reported:
I can attest that I'm satisfied when I make time to put others before myself. I'm fulfilled when I dedicate a very small percentage of my daily life towards someone else's betterment. However, I want to make one point clear. I'm not on my way to saint hood. I still really enjoy the finer things in life. I still really like my clothes, cars, vacations, cigars, etc. But they are not my identity and will not fill me. They are the dessert of life and should be consumed after I've had my fill of faith, family, and community.
If you've read this far, I hope this connected with you in some way. And I challenge you to make 2022 your most selfish year yet. Below is a give guide to help you get started.
- Give your grandparents a call if you're lucky enough to still have them, same with parents.
- Give to a charity or nonprofit that aligns with your values.
- Give away clothes you haven't worn in a year.
- Give your full attention when talking to others, no phone, no thinking of what you plan to say next.
- Give your work serious effort. Be proactive, not reactive.
- Give gratitude for what you have.
- Give your patience to strangers.
- Give yourself a break. We are our own toughest critics. Acknowledge and accept you are imperfect. But don't stop striving to improve. Never stop learning.
Updated: Jan 21, 2022
It's sad to know the end is near for the Mercedes Benz wagon. Our demand for bigger and bigger cars have pushed it out, in its place a sea of large SUVs and crossovers. The wagon's decline can also be tied to its association to the Griswold's or faux wood side paneling. Both are bad representations of its potential. But when I think of the wagon, I think of Town and Country magazine. I think of a machine that gives you the opportunity to maximize the best of both worlds, literally, town and country. It's an effortless transition going from drinks at Jeffrey's and the symphony on Friday, then loading up the dog and hunting gear Saturday morning to make a b line for your favorite quail honey hole in south Texas. It's a versatile machine that fits the man for all seasons.
I remember finding mine on a used car website in June of 2020. COVID was still in its prime and most of the world was still on lockdown. Used cars hadn't skyrocketed yet and the wagon I found checked all of my boxes. I called the dealership in Raleigh, North Carolina, and started the paperwork for the car to be shipped to Austin via a 18 wheeler. But Sydney, my wife, being the optimist of opportunity she is, saw this as a great chance for an improv road trip. So I quickly called the dealership and told them that we would fly into Raleigh the next week to drive the car back to Austin.
Once the paperwork was signed and the keys were in my hand we headed to Pinehurst Golf Resort for lunch. We ate in the village at the local brewery then picked up a few gifts for friends and family at the pro shop before walking the grounds. Without hitting one golf ball we left Pinehurst. We drove through the Carolinas and stopped for dinner at a small BBQ joint near Carnesville, Georgia called Smitty's. It's what you dream of finding when you think of southern BBQ: a small family owned place with generous portions. I devoured a rack of ribs with a side of fried okra and potato salad, in true #moveablefeast fashion, then stopped in Atlanta for the night. The next morning I had a revelation through a chicken biscuit. On our way out of Atlanta we stopped at Bojangles for breakfast. After having not one, but two chicken biscuits that morning, I'm a lifetime spokesman.
After seven more hours of windshield time we made it to our next stop, Vicksburg, Mississippi. I had zero expectations for Vicksburg. Sydney broke the trip up in three separate but equal legs and Vicksburg just happened to fall into place for us. I'm glad it did. We had dinner at Walnut Hills, a restaurant within a small house that's been around since 1880. We split fried green tomatoes, and I had a plate of hot shrimp and coleslaw with a few pieces of garlic toast. There could have been desert, maybe a piece of pie, but the memory is blurry now. That night we went downtown and spent the night hanging out on the rooftop bars, enjoying the view of the mighty Mississippi. On our final leg of the trip we pushed through Louisiana, stopping in Shreveport for gumbo. Then, once on the right side of Texas, Sydney spotted an older couple selling peaches on the side of the road. We picked up two baskets for a future cobbler.
The road trip gave Sydney and I a lot of memories, and tested us as only couples know who've spent hours in the car facing the trials and tribulations a road trip can bring on. We were ecstatic to bring the wagon home, but I've learned it's not all roses with a Mercedes. They can be needy and fickle at times. A cracked windshield here, a few flat tires there, have more than tested my patience and commitment to the brand. But I really can't think of a better vehicle that can take me from my crowded downtown parking garage to the lake in the hill country with five people and three dogs. It's just a shame that as my journey with my wagon is still beginning, overall it's looking like the wagon is facing its end.
You should quit reading books. Bad books, that is. I’m talking to those who are spared from buying technical bricks written by tenured professors. I apologize if this excludes you. You can revisit this when you’ve graduated into my target demographic: the agnostic recreational reader.
According to a Washington Post article from 2018, only 19 percent of Americans read for pleasure. While disappointingly low, I very much relate to my fellow 81 percent of Americans. As a child I loathed assigned reading. During a conversation with my mother a few years ago she said as much. And that I was almost forced to repeat the first grade because of my disinterest towards reading. But today my bookshelf is full. In fact, it is overflowing and has spilled onto the ground in knee high stacks. If you thumb through them, you could quickly form a rough sketch of who I am, or who I was at that time, and what my priorities were. So, I’m not convinced that you don’t like to read. You just haven’t found your book yet.
Below are a few of my favorites:
Inside Delta Force, by Eric L. Haney, CSM (Ret.)
If you ever wondered how the U.S. Army selected and trained its elite anti-terror unit, Delta Force, this book is for you. Retired Command Sergeant Major, Eric Haney shares his journey from high and tight Army Ranger to shaggy commando. It really goes deep into the initial selection process during the 1970’s. My favorite part is when CSM Haney describes how his teammates breached a room and shot live rounds around him during a mock hostage situation. Goosebumps.
Men and Manners, by David Coggins
This is a practical guide for doing the little things right. Coggins’ writing style and advice are clear. As we regain our social lives it’s prudent to brush up on public manners like tipping, planning, and parties. My favorite section covers technology. Please don’t Facetime in a restaurant. Better yet, don’t have your phone out unless you’re a doctor on call.
Things Worth Dying For, by Archbishop Charles J. Chaput
Archbishop Chaput shakes you awake and brings you back down to Earth with this book. He helps you take a step back and see how much we focus on consumption as a society. He then goes into our desire to live with meaning. This is something I’ve been wrestling with for a while. Inside he details the story of Saint Thomas Moore, which really resonated with me. “I die the King’s good servant, but God’s first.” Do you believe in anything worth dying for? It’s a sobering question. But one worth asking.
The Great American House, by Gil Schaefer III
This book could technically fall into the “coffee table” category. But if you get caught in the beautiful pictures, you would be missing out on insights from on one of the U.S.’s top architectural minds in Gil Schaefer. Schaefer specializes in remodeling historic houses, and new builds with old souls. Inside, Schaefer goes into detail on the three pillars that make a house a home: architecture, interior design, and finally, purposeful landscaping. My favorite part was him going through his upstate New York Greek revival home. If you need inspiration for a room or an entire house, Schaefer is the source for finding the sweet spot between classical style and modern comfort.
Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius
While not a traditional book, Meditations is a collection of personal journal entrees from Roman emperor, Marcus Aurelius. It’s gained popularity as stoicism’s found the millennial generation (my people). I love it because a lot of it is about staring our mortality in the face and being at peace with it. One of my favorite quotes: “Do every deed, speak every word, think every thought in the knowledge that you may end your days any moment.” Every day decisions are a lot easier to make through the lens of Emperor Aurelius.
Wine Folly the Master Guide, by Madeline Puckette and Justin Hammack
If you’ve caught the wine bug and want to take it up a notch, get this book. With details on hundreds of wine varietals, broken down regions, tasting notes and charts, Wine Folly has it all. For example, if you love Cabernet Sauvignon, they can recommend regions and similar varietals to try. They can help you pair wine with food and finally help you figure out the difference between acid and tannins.