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Heroes

It has been ages since I've updated this blog. My passion for personal writing is no less strong today than the day I staked out my claim on this little corner of the Internet, it's just that work and family obligations have required far more attention than at any other time in my life. I believe this is called "growing up" or something to that effect.

As many of you know, this week my Dad finally gave up his fight with Alzheimer's and the associated complications of pneumonia which ultimately take the lives of so many Alzheimer's sufferers. Watching this incredible man battle such an insidious disease has been positively gut-wrenching... something I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. The ordeal, however, has brought some positives:

• You find out in a hurry who your REAL friends are. The number of people who have reached out and offered support has been overwhelming. Some have watched our children so I could make emergency trips to the hospital or nursing home, many more have provided a sympathetic ear as I recount the latest trials and tribulations, and an astounding - actually, an OVERWHELMING - number of people have reached out to me via social media and offered prayer support. For that, I can't thank you enough. (And, yes, #AlzheimersSucks)

• You get to see just how strong the fabric of your family is woven. When someone you love is afflicted with this disease, it will shake you to your core. My Mom, sister and I have had shouting matches, shed tears, and bruised egos. My wife and kids have had to make due without me for extended periods of time. I've cancelled more social engagements than I can remember. We've been stretched and pulled in every direction but, given a bit of time and the occasional slice of humble pie, the bond of family only gets stronger.

• You get to find out if your company "walks the walk" when it comes to taking care of employees. Lots of organizations claim to have a "people first" philosophy, but precious few can make good on that claim. My employer, however, far surpassed my expectations in every possible way. From regular check-ins on my Dad's condition, to receiving weekend calls from the CEO urging me to skip business trips so I could focus on taking care of my Mom and Dad, and millions of other small gestures in-between, I couldn't ask for a more understanding or caring workplace. Truly a remarkable environment. (And we're growing - and hiring - like crazy. I love it when good things happen to good people.)

So now that the wake and funeral is behind me, and Dad is finally at peace and in a far greater place, it occurred to me that many of you who have offered support and prayers have never even met my Dad. So, in an effort to help you get to know a bit about the man who quite literally shaped me into the person I am today, I thought I would share the eulogy I wrote and delivered at this morning's funeral service.

Words alone could never really capture his spirit, but I think this will give you a little glimpse into who he was and what he was all about.

======= FOR DAD =======

One of the saddest ironies of the human condition is that death is just a part of life. Kids grow up. Parents become grandparents. And the older we get, the more we'll spend time in Church for occasions like this.

The past couple of years have been tough for those of us who know and love Dad. Alzheimer's is an evil thief, one that steals those we love in bits-and-pieces right before our eyes. He had been fighting this for so long, and it takes such an emotional toll on the family, that at times it was hard for me to even remember the days before the confusion and frustration of this disease took root.

But then an interesting thing happened.

Late last week, we got the phone call from Dad's nursing home that he was beginning to fail yet again and that we should come in. My sister and my Mom made their way from Methuen and, after arranging some last-minute school pickup coverage for my kids, I made the drive up north from my home on the Rhode Island border. We all met at his bedside and there we sat vigil as we watched this incredible man do what he's always done best: put up a fight.

It was during this time when we were all together, crammed into his tiny nursing home room, that something clicked. Instead of thinking about the worry and stress this disease had placed on him and our family, all I could think about we're the good days. I remembered him coming home from work and playing catch with me until his shoulder was sore. I remembered driving through Hyannis in his big '83 Buick Regal - with the sunroof open and the radio blaring - during one of our annual summer vacations on the Cape. I remembered how he used to fall asleep watching TV on a Saturday, but would wake-up and yell "I'm watching that!" the minute I touched the dial to put on a cartoon or play Atari.

I remembered him and my Mom getting ready to go out to eat with friends on a Saturday night, or him taking me Christmas shopping in Salem, New Hampshire, and ending our night over a hot fudge sundae at Friendly's in the Methuen Mall. I remembered him picking up bread at Pappy's and taking hours to deliver it to all the neighbors... and how much he loved to have cookouts... and how, when he was working the grill at my Little League Bar-B-Q, all of my friends would switch to eating hot dogs because he always burned the burgers.

I remembered Christmas Eve at my Grandparents' house and how, after they passed on, he picked-up the tradition and our house became the party destination. I remembered how his eyes lit up and how the man literally glowed when he held each of his grandkids for the first time.

All of these wonderful memories came flooding back into my mind and instead of feeling sadness, I honestly felt a bit awestruck. My Dad was a man who lived an incredibly rich and full life and he made an impact on so many lives and in so many ways. When I look at the incredible strength of my Mom and my sister. When I look at my amazing nieces and nephews and my own gaggle of beautiful kids, I see bits and pieces of Dad in all of them.

Even during the relatively brief period of time he was at the nursing home, he managed to leave his mark. As we sat by his side all weekend long, nurses would continually pop in to check on him, to say a prayer, or just share their favorite Sam story. At the end, before he drew his last breath, we had several members of the staff standing by his bedside to say goodbye and send him off with a kiss. We're all blessed because, simply stated, anyone who met my Dad was a better person for it.

I began today by stating that death is a part of life, but because of the sacrifice Christ made for us all, we also know that - beyond the shadow of a doubt - life is also part of death. Dad is in a better place now. He's with his Mom and Dad. He's with my Uncle Junior. And knowing Dad, he's probably sitting down and having a Sambuca with Sinatra right now. The point is: he's finally at peace.

So I don't want any of you to leave this Church with a heavy heart... that's the last thing in the world Dad would want. He was a hard working guy who taught me everything I know about being a friend, a father, a husband, and a worker. He did it all and he did it with a wink and a smile, no matter how tough things were. A little piece of my Dad, in ways large and small, will be with me every day of my life... and I pray the same for you. That's the best way to honor him and his memory. Not with sadness and regret, but with lightness and joy.

A Great Loss. An Even Greater Legacy.

I was 8 years old when I received my first computer: a Commodore VIC-20. My display was a gigantic Magnavox console TV located in the living room and my computing time was squeezed-in between my Mom's soap opera and my Dad's football/baseball/basketball viewing. 

I adored that VIC-20 (and the C-64 I received shortly thereafter), but one of my good friends owned an Apple II and I coveted that system. Simple. Elegant. Versatile. It stood as a stark contrast to any other system available to consumers and was responsible for days on end lost to gaming and learning. Those computers - laughably underpowered by today's standards - ignited a lifelong passion for technology that burns even stronger today.

During the roughly 30 years since those days, I have owned countless computers, PDAs and other gadgets, but none have been so utterly transformative as those which sprang from the mind of Steve Jobs.

Mr. Jobs has been the subject of significant speculation and admiration, particularly during the past several years. Now that he's left us, I'm sure much will continue to be written about his contributions to business, the company he created and the revolutions he began. But I believe his true legacy lies not within the accomplishments of the past, but in the wondrous things which future generations will create, sparked by the genius of his work.

My youngest child, a rather precocious three-year-old, is in love with our iPads. During his rare moments of calm and focus, we'll grant his repeated request to use the tablet and one of my greatest joys is watching him interact with the device. He unlocks the home screen, swipes to find his folder of applications and begins to explore. I watch his face as he completes a puzzle or reads a book — his favorite is 'Cars', yet another creation touched by the hand of Jobs — and marvel at the sheer joy and excitement he gets from playing. The technology itself is almost transparent... a far cry from the clunky keyboards and arcane boot commands necessary when using the systems of my youth. It simply works.

Steve helped to tear down down the barriers between the physical and the virtual. He didn't just break the rules of technology, of commerce, of industrial design... he made his own rules. From the whimsy of Pixar to the elegance of OSX to the myriad iDevices so many of us have in our homes and in our pockets, he has woven technology into our day-to-day lives in ways few could have imagined.

So today, on the day of his passing, I offer my condolences to his family — both blood relatives and the family he created at One Infinite Loop. He challenged us all to 'think different' and the world is a better place for it.

Cha-Ching

It's Friday night. The power is (finally) back on. I had a great dinner with the family, cooked in our own home. The dogs are back from the kennel. Life is pretty much back to normal after Irene made her cameo appearance during the weekend.

Tomorrow, like so many other Saturdays, I'll attack the yardwork. This time, however, I'll be busy cleaning up the remnants of the storm damage and returning the lawn furniture and patio sets from their temporary residence in the garage.

Whether Irene was a Cat 1 hurricane or a tropical storm by the time it hit New England is irrelevant... we were hit pretty hard. Vermont, of all places, certainly bore the brunt of Irene's torrential rains and my thoughts and prayers are with the thousands in that state who are still trying to pick up the pieces. My heart just goes out to them.

By contrast, the inconveniences my family encountered are minor. We lost a few trees, had a bit of water in the basement, but everyone - person and pet alike - came through unscathed. The storm, however, did not come without a cost.

Like nearly half a million fellow Massachusetts residents, my home lost power... quite early on Sunday morning, in fact. We spent the day keeping a wary eye on the storm and listening to the news reports on a transistor radio. We played cards, even watched a movie on one of the many iSomethingorothers that were charged-up and at the ready. And, like everyone else, we waited for the electricity to return. Day slipped into evening. Evening into night. Still no power.

Come Monday morning, the town was waking up. The air was filled with the sound of chainsaws and generators and people were milling about their property, assessing damage and developing gameplans. As neighbor chatted with neighbor, snippets of information began to trickle through. Some homes on the other side of town had power, but most did not. Someone else heard it could take as long as a week to have power restored. No one chose to believe it but, given the total absence of National Grid trucks on our streets, it was abundantly clear that it would take some time. We could live without lights but, since our water comes from a private well on our property, no electricity means no well pump and no running water. Not good.

Additionally, my employer's corporate headquarters are in Michigan, so most of my work is conducted at my home office. All I need is my laptop, a phone, an Internet connection and a webcam for videoconferencing and I'm all set. However, no power means no work. I tried a few local hotels to see if they could accommodate us, but most were either fully booked or not large enough for this family of five. We eventually decided to book a room in Mystic, CT. It's an hour away, but at least my wife and kids could go and have some fun and leave me the hotel room (and it's free Wi-Fi connection) so I could put in a full week. Not ideal, but we made it work.

We were able to return to our home yesterday morning and I was thrilled to see everything was in-tact and operational. Last evening, I was balancing our checkbook and tallied the costs for our little impromptu vacation. I wish I didn't.

• Replacing spoiled food: ~ $450-$500
• Hotel room @ $150/night: $450
• Meals for family of 5 X 3 days: $350
• Kennel fees for boarding dogs: $220
• Boarding fee for cockatiel: $16

For those of you keeping score at home, that's roughly $1,500 of damage caused not by Irene, but by a slow-to-respond utility: National Grid.

I completely understand that forces of nature can not be controlled. I further understand the impact such severe storms can have on an aging electricity infrastructure. What I can not understand, however, is how one company can simply throw up their hands and say "we can't be bothered" when it comes to customer service.

I tried connecting with this company in every way imaginable, but could not connect with a single human being until mid-week.

Some of the more classic moments: - Calling the customer support number and hearing a message suggesting I call back later in the week - Receiving a 'window' of power restoration that was 48-96 hours wide - Receiving voicemails from National Grid instructing me to visit their website for more information (which wouldn't be such a bad suggestion if their site was smartphone-friendly)

I later learned that National Grid was embracing the digital age and providing contact and support via Twitter. So I pinged the Twitterverse for information and, lo and behold, I received a Tweet from National Grid within minutes asking me if they could help. I asked about getting an accurate timeframe for power restoration. No response.

Then someone informed me I could sign-up to receive texts from National Grid and have updates "pushed" to my phone as soon as information became available. Maybe three times is a charm, I thought, so I signed up. Here's a record of the text messages I received:

8/29 - 5:34 PM NG: Crews working 24/7 to restore power. There's significant flooding, widespread damage & outages in MA, RI, NY & NH. We thank you for your patience.

8/30 - 12:05 PM NG: Power restored to 335K of 500K affected in MA. Using all resources to access hard to reach areas. Expect to have restoration estimates by end of day.

8/31 - 11:48 AM NG: Power restored to 400K of 500K affected in MA. If your power is out, you can get an ETR by calling <>.

When I called the phone number on Wednesday, I finally spoke with a human being. The operator informed me that my power could be restored that night... or it could be Friday... or it could be Sunday.

Frustrated, I spent a few minutes surfing the web to see if there were any public 'official' comments from National Grid on their response to the storm. One of the first hits that returned was an interview with Marcy Reed, President of National Grid, on the 96.9FM website.

I listened intently to see if I could discern some glimmer of hope or some nugget of new information. Instead, I heard Miss Reed a) acknowledging that utilities need to be able to handle storms... that it comes with the territory, and b) she's proud of the way her company's phone-based support has been dealing with the situation. A highlight for her: "they've been sympathetic."

At what point in time did it become okay for an executive to be content with "sympathetic" support personnel while hundreds of thousands of paying customers sat in the dark? I wanted to hear an admission of unpreparedness. I wanted to hear that she knows her team is working hard but that they need to kick it up a notch. I wanted to hear the Bill Belichick of utility executives. Instead, I heard the "there, there" tone of the 'everyone gets a trophy' crowd.

According to a recent article on InvestorPlace.com, National Grid's revenue and profits have been climbing steadily since 2007. This article had a few eyebrow-raising tidbits of information - including the fact that Miss Reed was on vacation in Hawaii as the storm was steaming up the coast - but none more telling than this line: "... that’s the beauty of (National Grid's) market dominance — it can treat customers badly and still make a nice profit."

And there you have it. Dollars and cents.

I make no secret of the fact that I'm a card-carrying, flag-waving, free-market-economy-embracing conservative. However, something is really wrong in business today. Somewhere along the line we lost sight of the fact that you can do the right thing, take care of your employees and your customers and STILL turn a profit. Anyone can make a few bucks by cutting corners and laying people off. It's takes a skilled leader to get an organization firing on all cylinders. That's how you build a brand. That's how you build a foundation.

When I was young, I seem to remember a different spirit that was pervasive in the business world... a spirit that carried with it a sort of pride in doing the right thing. "Sure the company hit some hard times, but we made it through and we didn't have to lay a single person off." That line in particular seems to resonate in my brain - whether it's a sound bite from a news report I happened to catch in my youth or simply a hazy, nostalgic, rose colored glasses view of a time that never was. Regardless, I wish MORE corporations in America acted in such a way.

So what is it going to take to reboot our system and get it back to where it needs to be? I keep hearing that consumers are going to be the engines that get this economy cranking again, yet we keep getting screwed - victims of the curse of low expectations and a "good enough is good enough" mentality. Where did that come from and, more importantly, how do we eradicate that way of thinking? Is this the inevitable result of outsourcing so much work and eliminating so many jobs here at home? Is it our fault for letting companies get away with a "press 1 for assistance" approach to customer service?

I'm not sure exactly where things went off the rails, but the end result is something that hundreds of thousands of New Englanders experienced this week. No support. No response. And, in more ways than one, no power.