“This Is Us” Is Me – And Maybe You Too

Meeting my brother for the first time.

The hit television show This Is Us is a poignant family drama. It’s been an especially emotional experience for me as I’ve watched Randall discover and build a relationship with his newly discovered birth father, William. At the same time, Randall’s relationship with his adopted mother Rebecca deteriorates as he struggles with the knowledge that she purposely excluded William from his life. My story is quite similar.

My father, Paul Spizuco, died when I was 18 months old. I never saw a picture of him until I was in my mid-twenties (and only because my dear Uncle Julie had kept some photos for me). For a long time my youthful mind assumed Paul must have been a bad guy because no one ever talked about him. In my late twenties my grandmother told me Paul was actually fun and generous and I was a lot like him. In my mid-thirties, I learned from a cousin that Paul had been a widower when he married my mother and had three daughters from his first marriage. My mother confirmed that but, when I asked why I had no contact with them, she said they wanted nothing to do with me after their father’s death. I had no reason to disbelieve her. Over the ensuing years, I made some minor attempts to find my half-sisters but with no success.

About ten years ago, I learned that my mother had been the one that purposely cut me off from my paternal family. That’s when I, like Randall, became focused on finding my birth-father’s family. One weekend in 2010, a childhood friend and his wife were visiting and we talked about my quest. They’d had success tracking down their own family trees on Ancestry.com and within two hours, I learned Paul’s deceased wife’s name and when she died. Most importantly I learned that I had two half-sisters and a half-brother. I contacted the woman who had posted the information and introduced myself. Long story short, the next day my 80-year-old brother, Paul Jr., called and we spoke for an hour. He was twenty years older than me and had been in the Marines when our father died. The next day I spoke to the daughter of my youngest half-sister, who told me her mom had always talked about me and her dying wish was to see me one more time. She had died ten months earlier. My older half-sister had died much earlier in life. Each of my half-siblings had large families and I became a “half-uncle” to about twenty nieces and nephews.

Paul Jr. died in 2014. I knew him for less than four years, but I cherish those years and I know our relationship meant a lot to him as well. My most vivid memory was a summer reunion party with all of Paul’s kids and their kids. My daughter accompanied me as we met all these blood relatives we didn’t even know existed. On the way back, she said, “That’s your family.” She explained that they all had the same kind of goofy humor that I’ve never outgrown, and we looked and sounded alike. Even after my brother’s death, I’ve remained in touch with his family and will be attending the wedding of my nephew’s son in July.

That’s the good part of the story. The bad part is that I lived sixty years without knowing any of these wonderful people. And just like Randall, the experience has profoundly affected my memories of my mother. In last week’s episode, Rebecca admitted her mistake. She acknowledged that she’d been selfish in keeping Randall away from William. My own mother never made that admission even when given multiple opportunities to explain the whys and wherefores of her actions.

It’s too late for me to make amends with my mother, and the heartache I feel seems too immense to ever fully overcome. As my eyes welled when William died, I had an overwhelming urge to share my story publicly for the first time. It became clear to me that we humans possess an innate tendency to tell lies in the name of “protecting” ourselves or others. We’re all selfish at times and we’re amazingly proficient at rationalizing our words and actions regardless of how painful and callous they might be.

The moral of the story is that it’s never too late to right a wrong and tell the truth about falsehoods (regardless of how well-intentioned). The longer we wait the more the issue festers. When the lie is finally revealed – and it almost always is – the damage can be irreparable. So if you do need to make amends, I urge you to do it now. Yes, it will be hard; but it will get harder every day you delay. And it will get exponentially harder every single day for the person you deluded to deal with the truth and the lie’s aftermath.

Mindfulness, Photography & Creativity

I’m writing this from the balcony of my hotel in Florence. The accompanying picture is my view. I just returned from the Bargello museum and its small but impressive collection of sculpture, carvings, metalwork, and frescoes. I took a few pictures and then forced myself to stop. Part of it was certainly the realization that a photo can’t possibly do justice to the real thing; but the main reason was that the process of taking pictures was separating me from the experience. It removed me from power of the artist’s creation. It removed me from the moment. I was focused on creating a memory rather than living it.

I talk a lot about mindfulness in my classes, and it’s a constant theme throughout 20/20 Mind Sight.  So I shudder to become a person who advises, “Do what I say, not what I do.” After I post this piece, I’m going to head out for lunch and leave my camera behind. Perhaps it’s my pea-size brain that’s to blame. Maybe I truly can’t do two things at once. Or maybe I’d just rather do one thing well – experience Florence, its food, sights, and people in all its glory – than compromise the moment by taking quintessential touristy pictures. Or maybe – and this is probably closer to the truth – I’ve realized that what really inspires me creatively is beauty in the flesh.

In my case picture-taking impedes the inspirational juices. Is there something in your hands or life today that impedes your inspirational juices? If so, lock it in the safe and continue your journey through life.

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Here I Go Again

My literary agent once said I was my own worst enemy – I had too many interests, wrote on too many topics and in too many genres to build a loyal readership.

It’s hard to argue with that. My first book was a young adult novel followed by three humor books. Then I wrote a marketing book and an investing book. Next up were several novels ranging from satire to chick-lit to paranormal. My newest book, co-authored with Jillian Vorce, grew out of a class I teach at BC and focuses on encouraging personal reflection and increasing self-knowledge.

So what literary path have I chosen to pursue next? Obviously something I’ve never done before: a thriller.

It’s been said that most artists – painters, musicians, sculptors, writers, actors, etc. – possess some sort of character flaw bordering on mental illness. That’s probably an overstatement (I hope) but I do believe there’s truth in the fact (not of the “alternative fact” variety) that we tend to see the world from a slightly different (askew?) perspective.

In my case, I think the “disorder” stems from the fact that I’ve never written simply to make money. I write the kind of stuff I enjoy reading. If that means I’ll never reach the stature or earnings of a John Grisham, I’m okay with it.

As I’m writing this, however, I’m reminded that I once did purposely write to make money. And I succeeded. It was back in the early 1980’s and I was spending a week on the Cape. My YA novel had been published and I was selling articles and essays to a bunch of magazines and newspapers – but not making very much money. So I sat back and asked myself a simple question: “What sells?” The answer was equally simple: “Sex!” So, within a week I had written captions for a cartoon book called How To Tell If It Was Good. The book was published by Ivory Tower Press and sold over 200,000 copies.

The moral of the story? Perhaps, unlike white mice, I don’t learn. Perhaps I can’t truly synthesize life lessons – even those that slap me upside the head. Who knows? Maybe the urge to write something strictly for money will strike again. Until then, await my foray into the thriller market – and wish me luck in battling my obvious disorder.

Begin at the End: What You & IBM Have in Common

The best advice I ever got in my career was that I needed to begin at the end. I needed to visualize my legacy. Most people associate a legacy with the transfer of worldly possessions from one generation to the next. So it’s not a great leap to realize that each of us also create personal and professional legacies related to our character, core values, and social impact. The key is to define that legacy – determine exactly who you want to be (not what you want to be), what you want to accomplish, and then focus all your time and energy on making it a reality.

This concept of a visualized legacy is focused on defining and achieving goals. And it gets to the heart of true self-awareness. Visualization is usually associated with athletes – particularly peak performers. Baseball players picture themselves hitting a home run, sprinters see themselves bursting over the finish line ahead of the pack, and gymnasts see themselves performing a perfect routine and sticking the landing to a standing ovation. The process works the same for the rest of us mortals. Architects visualize their design, fully constructed, with people walking through the doors and gliding up the escalators. Attorneys see themselves in the courtroom with the judge and jury hanging on their every word. And marketers of every stripe see their efforts ringing the cash register.

Like all things, visualization does not come easy. It requires practice. Visualization is far different than simply saying “I think I can, I think I can.” It involves images rather than words and narration. And the more vivid the image – the more detailed and nuanced – the more impact it will have on your success.

A Lesson From The Greatest Visualizer Of All-Time

Thomas Watson, Sr. became general manager of the Computing Tabulating Recording Corporation (CTR) in 1914. At the time, CTR was a manufacturer of automatic meat slicers, weighing scales, and punched card equipment. The company had fewer than 400 employees; but Watson had big plans for the small company and, in 1924, he renamed it International Business Machines.

Watson’s description of his thought processes and game plan for the company is far too powerful to paraphrase. So here, in Watson’s own words, is the secret of his personal and professional success:

IBM is what it is today for three special reasons. The first reason is that, at the very beginning, I had a very clear picture of what the company would look like when it was finally done. You might say I had a model in my mind of what it would look like when the dream – my vision – was in place.

The second reason was that once I had that picture, I then asked myself how a company which looked like that would have to act. I then created a picture of how IBM would act when it was finally done.

The third reason IBM has been so successful was that once I had a picture of how IBM would look like when the dream was in place and how such a company would have to act, I then realized that, unless we began to act that way from the very beginning, we would never get there.

In other words, I realized that for IBM to become a great company it would have to act like a great company long before it ever became one.

From the very outset, IBM was fashioned after the template of my vision. And each and every day we attempted to model the company after that template. At the end of each day, we asked ourselves how well we did, and discovered the disparity between where we were and where we had committed ourselves to be, and, at the start of the following day, set out to make up for the difference.

Every day at IBM was a day devoted to business development, not doing business.

We didn’t do business at IBM, we built one.

What’s Your Vision?

Thomas Watson, Sr. didn’t invent the concept of visualization but he embraced it with a fervor that should be an inspiration to us all. Interestingly, it would be very easy to reword Watson’s quote and replace “IBM” with your own name. To wit:

Thirty years from now, I will have achieved all that I am capable of for three special reasons. The first reason is that, starting today, I have a very clear picture of what a successful career will look and feel like when I retire.

The second reason is that now that I have that picture, I can ask myself how a successful career like that would have to be built. I can then create a picture of how I would have to act and interact to achieve that goal.

The third reason I will have been so successful is that once I had a picture of what my career would look like when the dream was in place and how I would have to act, I realized that, unless I began to act that way from this day forward, I would never get there.

In other words, I realize today that for me to become a great __________ (writer, physician, teacher, etc.) I would have to act like a great _____________ long before I ever became one.

From the very outset, my career was fashioned after the template of my vision. And each and every day I attempted to model myself after that template. At the end of each day, I would ask myself how well I had done, and discovered the disparity between where I was and where I had committed myself to be, and, at the start of the following day, I set out to make up for the difference.

Thomas Watson, like Richard Branson and Elon Musk, realized that life is short. And he realized that the sooner he articulated his vision the more time he would have to achieve it. The same truth applies to every single one of us.

(This article is adapted from the author’s books 20/20 Mind Sight and Marketing for Rainmakers.)

 

Just Admit You Don’t Know

the-thinkerOne could make a strong argument that the three scariest words to state aloud (particularly in the workplace) are these: I don’t know. That phrase is an explicit admission that we’re less than perfect. Our fear of stating “I don’t know” is amplified by the worries that we should know it, perhaps we once knew it but have since forgotten, and that everyone else knows it.

There are two alternative approaches to saying “I don’t know.” The first is to remain silent. You might look away and hide your head, try to change the subject, or excuse yourself to go to the bathroom or refill your coffee. The second, and far more damaging in the long run than admitting one’s ignorance, is to act like you know. Think about times when you’re asked a question and you’re confident about the answer. Your response will be concise, definitive, and coherent. If you’re anything like the rest of us, there have probably been occasions when you haven’t known the answer to a question but felt compelled to respond nonetheless. In those situations, your response was probably lengthy, convoluted, and effectively meaningless. We use far more words to cover up a lack of knowledge than when we actually know what we’re talking about. And because we have no idea what the hell we’re talking about, we’re far more likely to commit a verbal faux pas that could haunt us in the future.

The moral of the story? Do not “fake it ‘til you make it.” Admit your ignorance and allow yourself to learn something in the process. Confessing that you are not an all-knowing automaton is a sign of self-confidence. It will demonstrate your integrity, engender respect and, most significantly, encourage others to embrace the same openness. The culture of an organization, community, or family can be positively impacted when people feel comfortable about sharing their shortcomings. Over time you’ll experience a greater sense of teamwork, increased risk-taking, and more innovative thinking when the fear of looking dumb is removed. It’s a win-win by any standard of measure.

Perfection Is Neither a Weakness or Strength

perfection canstockphoto3240944Do you know the most commonly asked question at job interviews? It’s this: Name your greatest weakness.

And the most common response to that question? I’m a perfectionist.

The question is bogus and the response is cloyingly absurd. In defense of the interviewee, he or she is simply trying to turn a negative into a positive; but only the truly deluded could view perfectionism as a positive attribute. Perfection is illusory and its pursuit will inevitably lead to grief and disappointment. If you don’t believe it, consider the arc of Tiger Woods’ career. Woods was poised to reign as the greatest golfer of all time. His golf swing was a thing of beauty that combined power and finesse. But Woods was not content with an extraordinary swing. He wanted a perfect swing and he hired a succession of high-priced coaches to tweak and experiment with his mechanics. This ill-conceived pursuit of perfection resulted in a multi-year fall from the leaderboard to the middle of the pack. His extraordinary swing was a distant memory, and his perfect swing was a pipe dream.

I’m quite certain I know what you’re thinking: Even if perfection is unattainable doesn’t it still serve a valid and useful purpose as an aspirational goal? The answer is an unequivocal no. The quest for perfection does not allow for mistakes or failure. Perfection cannot accommodate risk because risk entails too great a possibility of failure. A far better approach to achieving maximum performance in any endeavor is the embrace of three simple tenets:

  • Focus on the journey not the destination. Perfection implies an endpoint; but not only is that endpoint unattainable, it also mitigates the joy and self-satisfaction of achieving new milestones and new personal bests.
  • Strive for continual improvement rather than perfection. All of the greatest hitters in Major League Baseball struck out far more times than they hit homeruns. Michael Jordan missed 50.3% of the shots he attempted (and 67.3% of three-point attempts), yet he is arguably the greatest NBA player of all time. Jordan certainly wanted to make every shot – and probably believed he could – but that was never his goal. He simply wanted to get better with every shot and every game. If perfection were his ultimate goal, he was an abject failure.
  • Learn with every step. The key to embracing weakness is to learn from our mistakes and failures, and we do that by attending to our errors immediately – as they occur. Brain research has identified two types of behaviors when a mistake is made. The first is ignoring the mistake and moving on. The problem with this approach is the likelihood of repeating the mistake. That’s why you’ll see PGA golfers take another swing when an approach shot goes astray. They want to recognize and feel the difference between a good swing and a bad swing. The bad swing is in their immediate consciousness. If they waited until after the round, they wouldn’t be able to compare the good and bad strokes. That approach by pro golfers exemplifies the second behavior type identified by researchers – focusing on the problem and determining how to correct it. Taken to its extreme, this idea of focusing on the problem can lead to “paralysis by analysis;” but as part of a well-rounded mindset it will help you use weaknesses as a foundation for growth and success.

So, what’s a better response to the “name your weakness” question? Be honest, be specific, and speak from the heart. How you answer the question is far more important than what you actually say. Plus, the fact that you can name a specific weakness – complemented with information about how you have or will overcome it – demonstrates comfort with introspection and critical thinking. It demonstrates the ability to see the big picture – the forest and the trees. And it demonstrates without a shadow of a doubt that your goal is to contribute to the greater good by continual assessment of your skills and an ongoing game plan for improvement. That’s as close to perfection as you can ever get.

(Excerpted and adapted from 20/20 Mind Sight.)

Writers Tend To Be Weird About Writing

black-and-white-man-person-cigarette-largeWhen I first started writing (way back before most of you were born), I worked at a manual typewriter. My fingers would tap the keys and every 10-12 words I’d slap the carriage return to slide over, advance the paper, and drop down to the next line. Mistakes required White-Out applied with a tiny brush or retyping the entire page.

When I was in my early twenties, I upgraded to a Smith-Corona electric model. At the time, it was a significant investment of money and affirmed to me that I was serious about writing. Except that I couldn’t write on it. It was a typing machine not a writing machine. There was something about the whirring of the tiny motor that sounded impatient. Like it was disappointed in me, nagging me to write faster. It was probably how a Lamborghini would feel if driven by a little old lady who never exceeded 20 MPH. The upshot was that I had to write by hand on paper and then type. It was decidedly inefficient – but it was how I wrote my first published book.

In 1982, I went to work at Wang Labs and discovered the magic of word processing. No more White-Out, no more having to retype entire manuscripts, and no more annoying whir. There was no looking back. My first computer was an all-in-one Kaypro that used the CP/M operating system, featured a 9-inch green monitor, and used 5-inch floppy disks. I used the WordStar word processing system that required embedding clumsy commands into the text for formatting – but it was a huge step forward.

After flirting with a few Windows machines, I became an Apple fan boy and would never willingly return to the Microsoft evil empire. So I now do all my writing on either my MacBook Air or iMac. My requisites are music and libations. The music varies from classic rock to the mellowness of singer-songwriters to the occasional hip-hop/rap tune. The libations begin with coffee in the morning, diet Coke and iced tea through the day, and a whiskey in the evening.

Few things in life are more satisfying to me than creating a clever/insightful/engaging turn of phrase. That probably sounds weird to some people, but I’m okay with that. I’ve longed come to accept my weirdness. Which, in itself, sounds weird.

The Unequivocal Why in the Horror of Nice, Orlando, and Istanbul

indoctrination canstockphoto5952193The American philosopher William James often argued that human beings were blind “to the feelings of creatures and people different from ourselves.” It is this blindness that, if left unchecked, can progress from a simple preference for similar-looking/same-thinking people to ideological fanaticism.

Everyone is prejudiced to some degree. We may suppress those feelings from being outwardly expressed, or we may deny them even to ourselves. The key to keeping biases to a minimum is to turn off the personal filters that cloud judgment and focus instead on accepting other people’s realities. Acknowledge the differences and then accept, embrace and appreciate them.

The importance of personal reflection and self-knowledge to creating a blinders-free perspective cannot be overstated. People who truly know themselves and feel comfortable in their own skin tend to be the most open-minded – i.e., the most impartial and the least judgmental. They are confident about their own values and beliefs and, as a direct result, do not feel compelled to force those values and beliefs on others. On the other hand, people who have never delved deep inside to test and question their beliefs and values are far more likely to fear and denigrate the mass of others who do not look, sound, or act exactly like they do. These less reflective individuals are driven to persuade and/or punish the “others” to accept and validate their particular worldview. It’s “my way or the highway” for those whose self-knowledge is constrained by ideology and indoctrination – as well as a lack of general curiosity about and appreciation for the larger world around them. Their life’s journey consists of a single track in the shape of a circle. They go round and round seeing the same things over and over again. And the more they see those same things, the more partial they become towards them.

This circular journey drives the why in every terror attack and hate crime, and it’s the why that becomes the focus of law enforcement and the media in the immediate aftermath. Why would this or that seemingly normal person turn into a senseless killer? Why attack so randomly knowing that many innocent people (including children) will be among the dead and injured? The focus is on the search for a specific cause – a specific rationale – ranging from Islamic jihad to ethno-centric separatism to religious fundamentalism, homophobia, and pure racism.

Whatever the “specific” cause, the root cause is unequivocally indoctrination followed by blind faith to a person, organization or orthodoxy. Blind faith refers to beliefs that are held without true understanding, reasoned discrimination, or experiential proof. While an argument can be made that all “faith” is “blind” by definition, let’s focus on the articles of faith that serve to dehumanize and engender hate.

Take a moment to consider your most deeply held beliefs, and then focus on those that originated from an external source. The beliefs you hold because you were taught to hold them. Examples might include the belief that women are subservient (and belong in the kitchen and out of the boardroom), homosexuality is an abomination (and gay marriage will destroy traditional marriage), Muslims are terrorists (and shouldn’t be allowed to build mosques in “our” neighborhood), Jews are stingy and greedy (and plotting to take over the world), and Mexicans are lazy (and so we have to build an electrified fence on our southern border to keep them out and stop them from taking our jobs). No one – and I truly mean no one – ever derived these beliefs on his or her own. They are the result of indoctrination by one or more of the groups we belong to (family, school, church, friends, etc.), and the lack of a questioning mindset of our own.

Our educational, corporate and community institutions have trained us to repeat and regurgitate. Introspection and personal reflection are unvalued, ignored, discouraged or – in extreme cases – punished. We’ve become a world of blind followers with little insight into our personal character, and our society suffers as a result.

Most people believe what they’ve been taught to believe. They do what other people tell them to do, and say what others expect them to say. That’s why the “lives of quiet desperation” that Thoreau described are so prevalent today and why civil discourse has been replaced with the coarse language of divisiveness and disdain.

Few people take this blind faith to the extreme of the Orlando and Charleston shooters, the Istanbul bombers, or the maniacal truck driver in Nice; but we all suffer from it. The only way to truly overcome and eliminate blind faith – and the indoctrination that nurtures it – is to focus on personal reflection and self-knowledge. If you can’t explain what you believe, then you don’t truly “believe” it. You’ve simply been taught to believe it.

Adapted from content in 20/20 Mind Sight by Phil Fragasso and Jillian Vorce.