Unhappy Construction Workers

I read an article this week that highlighted a recent study showing linkages between certain jobs and depression rates. It showed that people who work closely with the elderly and children have high rates of depression (closely followed by food servers), while those who work in engineering, architecture, construction, and surveying have the lowest depression rates. Fair enough, I guess. Caring for human life is a taxing profession, so I can see that. Engineers, architects, and construction workers probably love being outside and enjoy a comfortable lifestyle.

But here's my question: If you were to observe 100 caretakers and 100 construction workers for a week who would you think would seem happier?

I think it would overwhelmingly be caretakers; exactly the opposite of the aforementioned study.

When I read this article the other day, I got to thinking about how despite their evidence that construction workers enjoy such a low depression rate, I don't know that I've ever seen a smiling construction worker in my life. Have you? Don't these pictures seem strange?

Living Hard

As evidenced by my ITunes library that recently eclipsed 10,000 songs, I'm clearly a music fanatic. Elvis, Johnny Cash, Cross Canadian Ragweed, whatever... I love most any music. However, it's rare that a CD has me waiting for 6 months in anticipation. It's even more rare that uncommon that when the CD finally arrives, it lives up to my expectations and captures me in such a way that I have a hard time articulating.

Well, yesterday it happened. My favorite artist, Gary Allan, released "Living Hard"--his seventh studio album. And wow, it is amazing. I haven't stopped listening to it since I scurried to the store yesterday morning to purchase it.



The CD packs a very emotional punch, as Gary wrote most of the songs (a rarity these days) as a way to reconcile his very troubled past. A couple of years ago, Gary's wife, Angela, asked him to check on one of the kids, and he said, "I just put them to bed, everyone's fine." Moments later, she said, "Would you go get me a Coke? I feel like I'm sick." Shortly after he walked to the kitchen, Gary heard a loud pop. "It sounded like she had thrown something," he says. "I had a gun safe underneath the bed and she had taken the pistol, stuck it in her mouth and pulled the trigger. She was on the bed. She was gone." Gary would later say that he had absolutely no idea she was depressed.

The CD is chock full of songs that cut to the core of every human emotion that we all feel but are reluctant to air: frustration, helplessness, vices, love, loss, loneliness, recovery, moving on, and everything in between. Each song is an experience unto itself, and the entire CD is incredibly touching.

It's worth noting that Gary Allan is a country musician, typically cast aside of the mainstream because he isn't "pop" enough for the current state of country music. He is an iconic example of commitment to your beliefs, reflection, and self-expression, irrespective of environmental pressures (i.e., pressures to change his sound and image). It's also worth extracting another lesson from this story, which is that inspiration, truth, and beauty can be found in seemingly unlikely places, like the New Releases shelf in Wal-Mart. And it will only run you $12.98.

Helping Elderly Men Cross the Street

It's been a while, and I thought I'd take time to reflect.

I was walking in uptown Oxford the other night, and had a very unexpected experience. I was waiting to cross the street, and a woman, who looked to be in her 50s and a man who looked to be in his 80s waited on the opposite side of the street. As traffic dissipated, we both started to cross. I watched as the woman led the man (presumably her father) across the street by his arm. It was roughly 60 degrees outside, but he was bundled up and looked to be hunkered down for a blizzard. It was very cute. As I observed them crossing the street, I became captivated by their conversation. She was telling him to hold on tight, hurry up, and other polite directions. He was taking very small steps, and not walking too quickly as his age was certainly limiting his speed. He told her that he didn't want to be out too late tonight, because he wanted to watch the Cleveland Indians, because they had a chance to close out the division tonight and earn a playoff berth.

When I heard that statement, I almost stopped in the crosswalk. It might as well have been my (late) grandfather crossing the street with my mother. In fact, for me, it was. I smiled at the couple as we met, both going our opposite directions. I was filled for the next few minutes with thoughts of my grandfather. It was incredibly emotional. Here was a man, late in his life, scared to cross the street, dressed in winter clothes during the summer, unhappy about the inconvenience of going out, and all he could think about was that he had to be home at 7:05 to watch the Indians. My grandfather, an avid Red Sox fan, was the same way. Regardless of how his body was failing him later in life, he was still concerned with the Red Sox, and even the Yankees. (Of course he was only concerned that the Yankees didn't win, or steal a coveted free agent away from the Sox.)

This is a very special time of the year for me. Baseball is a big part of my life, and that can be largely attributed to my grandfather. Playoff baseball is a magical experience for me, and sometimes all it takes is a happenstance interaction with an elderly stranger to remind me why.

Are You Going to a Job Interview?

As you know, I commute a considerable distance to work (40 miles, one way). I always stop for gas in Trenton, Ohio--a very small, conservative, working class town--because they have the cheapest fuel around.

When I drive to work, I often think of how my journey begins and ends in two very affluent places (Oxford and Kettering Foundation), but most of the drive is a working class environment, with an economy stimulated by coal, steel, and manual labor. I don't always appreciate the beauty of Trenton and Middletown, especially when I get caught by one of their trains. Sometimes I'm even oblivious to the contrast in my commute, except when certain things happen to jar me out of my ignorance.

I am forced to wear a shirt and tie everyday to work. I've grown to tolerate it, but it's certainly not my preference. When I stop to get fuel, I occasionally notice some awkward stares from fellow gas station patrons, but I assume it's because I drive a yellow SUV. This probably isn't the case, I've decided. You see, when the gas station attendant waits on me, and if I'm feeling conversational, he/she often asks if I'm going to a job interview. The first few times it happened, I shrugged it off, but after the fifth or sixth time, I began to wonder why I kept getting that question. I have thought a lot about it, and I can only figure that I'm probably the only person they see in the morning wearing a shirt and tie. I decided to test my hypothesis, and follow up with a probing question the next time I was asked.

It finally happened this morning.

After I was asked--almost verbatim--if I was going to a job interview, I politely asked, "Why would you think that?," to which the woman responded, "Because you're all dressed up."

Fair enough, I guess. Considering this woman probably waits on 300 people in the morning, 5 or 6 days a week, and I'm probably the only one in a shirt and tie, I can't argue with her line of thinking. It just makes me more cognizant of who I am.

Celebrating the Day of My Birth

Yesterday, I turned 26. We had a little celebration at work, Erica made (bought) me a cake, we ate dinner with some very good friends, and played Uno with some other friends (they are very good friends, too). Erica had already given me my present a week early, which is shown below.

(this will probably be the topic of a future blog post. For now, though, just know that it is an unhealthy obsession I've had since 1994.)

As I was driving home yesterday from work, I began to reflect on my birthday, and what it all meant. My reflections can best be described by the following:

No more break in car insurance premiums, no more bar night excitement. Just new digits! As I was reflecting, I quickly started thinking about my life. There are only two conclusions I could draw:

and

All kidding aside, it was a great birthday. Thanks to all who wished me well!

I Might Have a Screw (Or Two) Loose, But....

Someone in this world thinks that I need to have my cabinets refinished. He/she is so sure of this fact, that he/she emails me at work every morning at 9:00 am.

Every morning when I arrive at work, I exchange pleasantries with co-workers, put my lunch in the refrigerator, make some green tea, and try to catch up on the world while I was sleeping. As soon as I finish, just like clock work, I hear a faint "ding" that lets me know someone cares enough about me to send an email. I admittedly get excited, only to discover it is from "Cabinet Refinishing" with the subject line "Your Guide to Do-It-Yourself Cabinet Refinishing."

I'm not sure what about my demographics says "do-it-yourself," "cabinets," "refinishing," or any combination of the three, but someone sure thinks so. I'd like to meet him/her and get the bottom of this.

I guess there are worse things to be solicited for online (e.g, .... well, you know what they are), but I can't seem to figure this one out. For now, I'll just take sanctity in the fact someone cares enough to email me with what he/she deems my best interest at heart!

Leadership Lineage

A couple of weeks ago, I attended Sigma Pi University, an international leadership conference for Sigma Pi brothers. 350 people were in attendance--the largest ever gathering at one of these events. I was asked to present on two things I know very little about: planning chapter retreats and crisis management. The presentations went pretty well, although I'm still surprised that students are interested in crisis management at 9:30 in the morning.

As with any conference, the informal gathering time was the best. I was able to reconnect with many brothers I met on the road during my time as a traveling leadership consultant. I was also able to connect with my chapter brothers from SVSU. Here is a picture of all 4 of us. Coincidentally, we are all past Sages (presidents) from our chapter.

You'll notice the haziness of the picture. It was probably 124 degrees that day, and I was in a shirt and tie. Needless to say, I nearly combusted after this photo was taken.

The trip also solidified my LOVE for Nashville. It is an amazing city, with great live music. I hope to live there (or a similar city) when all is said and done.