Confidence – Pass It On

The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes. ~William James

My ten year old son presented me with a great opportunity the other day when his first little league practice of this spring season did not go according to plan. He didn’t think he played well, and was obviously not in the best mood with his perception of his lack of talent.

Trying to be a good father, I let him know that a) it’s only the first practice, and b) since it was the first one, we were just trying to “knock the rust off”.

But, I was having trouble convincing him. It was obvious this “bad practice” had an effect on his confidence, and it was anything but positive.

My goal at this point was to try to reinstill that confidence in him. To let him know that the more we worked on his game, the more repetition we practiced, the better it would get. And that is all it would take.

I wanted to leave no doubt in his mind that if we practiced the same fundamentals, over and over again, it would work.

In baseball, and in life, having confidence is paramount to any type of success. When my son faces a little league pitcher this year, that kid on the mound is going to throw hard. He will bring it. To deal with that, my boy will need a little bit of swagger.

If he doesn’t have any swagger at all, more than likely he will be walking back to the dugout, the victim of a high velocity strikeout.

I wrote in an earlier post how difficult it might be this year to get to the same level of success that I’ve had in previous years at my job in sales. I wrote that it will probably be a struggle. And if I keep thinking that way, there is no doubt I will be correct.

My work requires me to repeatedly try to contact potential clients. There is a ton of rejection. If I let the rejection get to me at all, I’m done. I might as well go home. And believe me, I’m not immune to that. I have had those days.

Days without confidence. Without swagger. Strike three!

Confidence in my ability to do my job is the single most important factor about the job. Without it, it just looks like I’m going through the motions. Which will not lead to success. Confidence usually comes to me from:

Being prepared
Consistent repetition of my most important activity (customer contact)
Being positive and keeping a sense of humor when things don’t go so well

So I know what works for me. And I do my best to make sure I follow through with what works every day. Does that mean I will know how to pass what I’ve learned on to my daughter and my son? I’m not sure. It’s difficult to know exactly what a ten year old might remember, or what evaporates from his mind just minutes later.

Right now, doing the right things, rinse, and repeat, is what is going to build that very important life factor of confidence in my kids. As their parents, my wife and I also have to make sure they can see that confidence on the horizon, especially when it’s nowhere to be found.

Hopefully Daddy can remember that lesson, as well, when he’s at work. Batter up!

I’m Not Anti-Materialism; But Why Don’t You Save The Economy?

Since this economy started tanking, there has been a sudden rush to a different lifestyle for some Americans. People are spending less money, trying to live a little less complicated, maybe re-setting some priorities. Saving money, as well.

I have to admit, seeing the mad scramble to a simple life makes me smile, at times even chuckle. This new breed of American consumer is now trying to adopt a life and financial style that I have been fortunate to observe most of my years: it was the normal way the majority of my older family members operated their entire lives.

I could just spotlight on my grandparents in this post. But it wasn’t just my Nonna and my Pop that lived the so-called frugal lifestyle. Nope, it was also their brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends. Every one of them, with maybe one or two exceptions, was financially responsible and focused on their relationships and experiences rather than material goods, while chasing the good life here in the USA.

Fellow blogger Vince Scordo published a wonderful article detailing how Italian American immigrants used methods other than material things to feel an element of wealth in their lives . Like his examples, many of my relatives and friends found their luxuries in the food they prepared, ate, and shared with others.

My grandparents always worked hard enough to afford themselves some of the finer things in life. But things like clothes, cars, gadgets, or dinners outside the home were never high on their priority list. They were more interested in their work, family, and their home. Oh yeah, and the food.

My family’s food was and is central to their existence. Always high quality, home made, and eaten with the people we loved. Some of my fondest memories of time spent with my grandmother (and more recently, my great aunt) were helping to prepare meals, eating them, having a glass of wine, and when I wasn’t helping, I was observing .

At the other end of the spectrum, I know people outside of my family circle that own big houses, multiple vehicles, have ample sums of money, and they eat fast food because of the illusion that it’s quick and cheap. That’s where they prefer to save their money. On the food they put into their bodies.

Can that possibly be the new definition of insanity?

As for myself, in this day and age, there are a lot more temptations to spend now than say, twenty years ago. Who hasn’t at one time or another, desired the high end Blackberry or a 50 inch LCD flat panel?

We all do. But things are not usually high on my priority list. Unless they are related to a kitchen remodel, but that’s for another post. I’ll take some grief occasionally for not having a cell phone, driving a Cadillac that can only be described as vintage, or for still enjoying a 27 inch television that we got for a wedding gift so long ago.

I simply don’t care about a lot of this stuff. I’m apathetic. I’d rather spend my time doing, and thinking about, other aspects of my life. The food is one of them. When my wife and I prepare a meal together, and then sit down to eat with our kids—I really believe I am partaking in one of life’s true luxuries.

These days, a lot of Americans seem to agree with this way of thinking. But will this new way of perceiving the lifestyle stay entrenched in our culture?

I don’t think so. When the economy is back in high gear, people will become less fearful—and go back to their credit card slingin’, high spending ways. And you go right ahead. Our economy is built on consumer spending, and it needs that spending to save it. So do your best.

But, I will leave it to you to save our economy. I will continue on my path, the same path I learned from my grandmother for so many years. Not the one that goes to the stores, the coffee shops, and the car dealers. This path leads into your home, your family, your friends, and your beliefs.

When I was younger, there was often a large party of people in my grandparents’ cellar helping my Nonna clean and cook bushels upon bushels of tomatoes for home canning purposes.

I didn’t know it then, but I now know that I was watching the good life in action. No accessories required.

“Life Is Precious,” Epilogue

A week ago, my 96 year old grandmother passed away. Featured here in a previous post, she is one of the inspirations I look at to write here on this blog. Although she had such longevity and was in steadily failing health recently, I’m sure the days to come will seem very different without her here.

It was difficult to mourn her death completely, though. To an extent, I was happy for her. As a believer in an afterlife, I’m thinking she just took a trip to another level of her existence, to see the family and friends that passed before her. She had a really big party waiting for her on the other side.

I think when we mourn the death of someone like this, we mourn more for ourselves. Because a little piece of our own lives has been chipped away. Again. And we sooner or later have to look our own mortality square in the face.

Even for someone who has faith, that can be a daunting task.

My grandmother’s funeral was an event, if she could have seen it, that she would have loved. The mass was at the church she was married in. “Ave Maria,” a favorite song, was sung beautifully for her. And she was buried in the cemetery where her husband and son were waiting for her.

As her health declined, I imagined I would have to deliver a eulogy at her funeral, and I had the privilege to do so. It was appropriately positioned by the priest after that stirring version of “Ave Maria,” which provided comfort as I went to the podium.

The following is some of what I said:

‘Life is precious’. When my grandmother said this, with her thick Italian accent, it always came out sounding like ‘Life is pressure’. She was right on both accounts. When I pointed out to her the way it sounded, we had a great laugh about it, and it became a running joke from that point on.

A lot of us here (in the church) today had the privilege of sitting at my Nonna’s kitchen table, to have a cup of coffee or eat something. In some cases, be forced to eat something. Those of you who didn’t eat, heard the words ‘mangia, mangia, mangia’ over and over again until you finally put something in your mouth.

I was lucky enough to not just sit at that table once in a while, but practically grow up sitting there. My parents worked at their restaurant a lot, so I was fortunate to spend many days and weekends at my grandparents’ house.

‘Life is precious’ is just one of the many nuggets of wisdom I learned at that kitchen table. It wasn’t just a place to have coffee or to eat, but also to grow and learn how to live life the right way, and how to enjoy yourself.

At that table, I learned that ‘Food is life’, ‘It’s later than you think’, ‘Life is a-worth living’, and to never trust anyone who doesn’t like music. They’re bad people.

After Gram passed away, I thought a lot about those kitchen sessions, and with the help of food and coffee, how I acquired many of the skills I have today. When I chop garlic, make sauce, roll a meatball, say a prayer with my kids, or sing along with a song on the radio at the top of my lungs, I do it the way she did it. And for all that, I’m very grateful.

I appreciate all of the simple things in my life because that’s what she did. Her life really was simple, but her impact on other peoples’ lives was simply spectacular. She was small in stature, but she was a giant in so many ways.

Following that, I acknowledged my parents for their selfless dedication to her care in her last years, which brought applause from everyone. It was nice to walk from the podium with those sounds echoing throughout the church. I imagine it would have been difficult to walk back to my seat to the sound of silence.

The weather was unusual that day. The morning had started with the last dredges of freezing rain and slop, but at the mass in church, we could see the sun begin to blaze outside as it’s rays filtered through the stained glass windows. As we went to the cemetery, the warmth of the sun seemed even stronger, like it was all those days spent in my grandparents’ back yard. On their patio. On their street.

Riposare in pace, Nonna. And thanks in advance for all the inspiration to come.

Only In The Struggle

I make my living as a salesguy.

In my line of work, things are pretty cut and dried. You either do your job, or you don’t. You make your money, or you won’t. You don’t get a paycheck (of any decent size, anyway) unless there has been some substantial effort to obtain it. You want the money, you go after it.

There are goals to be met and achieved. If you are not making the company set goals, chances are you are not going to meet your financial goals.

Over the last couple of years, it has been a struggle for me to get to 100% of my sales goal. I have gotten there, often with a furious rally towards the end of the year to catch up. But its a struggle. Where some other people in my office make it look easy, I have to grind at it. For me, it is far from easy.

So now, it’s a new year. Selling territories have been slashed. New folks have been hired. What wasn’t even close to easy for me before, now just got measurably more difficult. It will be a struggle.

I have, in the past, at times struggled professionally. After I left my family’s restaurant, which was a life that seemed tailor made for me, I spent years trying to find my place, to not stumble, to find something I was good at…for the sake of making money.

I work a job now where I feel fairly successful. I provide for my family. We are able to afford a pretty nice life.

But the rules of the game have changed. And they always will. In my company, in the American employment landscape, change will be the only thing that stays consistent.

There are now decisions to make. It’s a new year, with a new plan, and we’re all at the bottom, looking up. Only this time, that mountain peak is much higher. Will I accept just the struggle? Or will I accept the challenge to overcome it?

I have found it easy to be frustrated (this week especially) because of what looks to be this upcoming financial challenge. But I have also found it easy to be very satisfied with the direction life is headed recently. And I don’t think that’s a coincidence.

I’m happy with the direction of my life partly because of the struggle, the challenges that we all face that make life rewarding: We can be satisfied simply by overcoming those challenges.

I appreciate my life as it is. Because I’m aware of, and appreciate where I’ve been. And where my family has been. And the daily struggles they had to overcome and the challenges they met head on, coming from Italy to America to make a life and fulfill a dream.

With that perspective, this salesguy (and husband, father, and friend) is also ready to meet it all head on, and accept the struggle.

“Life has meaning only in the struggle. Triumph or defeat is in the hands of the Gods. So let us celebrate the struggle!“

Memories Of My Grandfather

During this week of Christmas, in 2009, my grandfather will have been gone for nine years. He often crosses my mind now as his birthday is in October, and he passed away on December 20th.

My “pop”, as I called him, was a tough but gentle man from Calabria, Italy, who didn’t say much—but when he did speak, he did not mince words. He was unintentionally very funny, and made me laugh a lot with some of the things he said and did. Some of his opinions and theories would be seen as politically incorrect these days. That’s one of the reasons I thought he was great.

Pop had a stellar work ethic. He worked in factories during the day, and after he finished his shifts, he would go to the family restaurant to help by getting behind the bar, and working into the evening. He always did his job to the best of his ability, and if he couldn’t do something, he never had any excuses.

Because he always worked so much, he had some disdain for people that he thought were lazy, that had little regard for themselves or providing for their family. He had a way of sarcastically saying “God Bless America!!” when referring to individuals like this. In translation, it actually meant “This is the only country you can get away with acting like a lazy bastard!” I always laughed whenever he said it, because I knew he was getting wound up.

Despite that, Pop could be a very charitable man. To those same people he had a little disdain for, he would also peel off a five or ten dollar bill to them when asked—if he thought they were really down on their luck. He might not have liked laziness, but he also didn’t like to see people hurting either.

That is a lesson that I will remember from Pop: he always gave of himself, and displayed charity to those who did not have it as good as he did. He did it often, and I think he really felt compassion for others who were down on themselves.

He was also a man of simple interests. What my grandfather liked to do, outside of work and family, was watch baseball games, play a lottery ticket here and there, and eat my nonna’s fabulous cooking. He would get into an occasional game of bocce ball, and when someone he knew passed away and he had to attend a wake, for him it was a social event .

I might have given him a ride to the funeral home, but chances were I was leaving without him. He’d get driven home by someone else.

In his later years, well into his 80’s, Pop would still work at the restaurant, and because he didn’t drive a car, I would have the privilege of taking him home every night. In nice weather during the summer, occasionally we would sit on the patio behind my grandparents’ one story brick home, and listen to baseball on the radio.

The back patio would be sparse and uncluttered, with just a table and chairs, and umbrella in the middle of the table for shade during the day. The patio is still surrounded by fruit trees, and often there would be pears and cherries on the ground as there were too many to pick.

We would sit in the chairs, sip our espresso, and listen to a Yankee game on the radio, an old radio that I would perch on the sill of the open kitchen window. On those nights, I would feel like I was ten years old again because we listened to the game instead of watching it on TV.

My best memories with him include working in the same place that he worked, and eating dinner sitting next to him on a regular basis. He was ninety-two when he passed away, but his example on how to live life the right way are still fresh for me almost ten years later.

We can accomplish good, or great, things by paying attention to the lessons of the Old School, the lessons of our fathers and grandfathers. What do you recall fondly about your “Pop”?