Where the wild things are...

One constant, no matter the economy, weather or season, is that boys will be boys. My two oldest sons are true examples of the rough and wonderful world that adolescent males live in. Their world is ruled by monster trucks, fishing trips and wrestling matches. They survive on peanut butter and jelly, chocolate milk and cookies they sneak from the counter. There is no worry about coordinating clothing, what color socks they are wearing with what color shoes or whether their hair is combed or teeth are brushed before heading out the door, in fact if it's a nice summer day they really don't mind running out the door wearing nothing at all. Boys will be boys.


In this world of hand sanitizer, plastic coated sealed and sterile everything, GPS on every dashboard so Heaven forbid we won't end up in uncharted regions and cell phones connecting people 24/7, I wonder sometimes what "wonder" there really is left for my boys out there. How far are we really apt to let them roam and explore when we can get online and find in five minutes any sex offenders lurking out there in our midst? How long a leash will we allow them when the news is filled every night with stories of abductions and murders and monsters? In this over sanitized and sensationalized world we live in how far can I let my boys go to explore the world they are growing up into? Are there really any wild places left within the reach of their grubby little hands?

I remember my childhood all too well. I would pack up a bag with my fishing gear, pocket knife and a canteen and head down the road to the nearest farmer's pond, creek or woods a few miles away. Sometimes I road my bike sometimes I hoofed it, but it was me, alone. I was probably 10 to 12 and had the freedom to just head out and explore. I was blessed to live out in the country and had what seemed like limitless range of woods, fields and water at my disposal. There were "hunting" trips with my trusty Daisy BB gun and my dog Spike that were every bit as exciting as anything Ted Nugent ever sang about (minus the big game) and fishing trips that found me in ownership of more fish than I could carry home, let alone fillet and cook. Yes, in my pre-teens I could actually clean a fish. My father taught me well. I'm sure if hunger required it today I could still do the job...but I have to admit, it would take a lot to make me do it. The sense of convenience and cleanliness has overcome my wild side.

I remember hiking for hours in the woods finding old trails and sometimes just making my own. Exploring long forgotten hunting shelters and junk piles that always held treasures of some kind or another. My parents didn’t worry about me (much) and I had no fear of anything except maybe the occasional muskrat trap. I was independent and free. It was my own little "Into the wild" experience played out again and again throughout those golden years before varsity sports, the opposite sex and a driver's license clouded my pubescent brain.

If I could go back and feel that freedom and wonder again for just one afternoon, I would give almost anything to do it. I want to be able to remember it well so that it can hold equal weight to all the fear I have now of what might happen if my boys explore past my grasp. Just maybe if I remember how much it meant for me it'll be enough to push me to let go, just a little, so that they can feel the same way I did. Free to explore. Free to find their own paths.

I don't know if my parents were intentional about it or they were just happy to have me out of the house for a few hours, but I am forever grateful to have had the chance to go out and explore the world around me. I hope I have the courage to do the same for my boys. I hope to experience it with them and teach them what I can remember about it, but mainly I want them to experience it for themselves and tell me about it in their own words.

I want them to feel wild and appreciate the world the way it was before we safeguarded and sanitized it. That raw and dirty world is the one I want them to get to know, filled with fish scales and sparrows and even some poison ivy, scrapes and scratches. I just hope they find it before it’s gone, on their own terms, just like I did. I'll even share my old canteen with them just as soon as I can find it.

Smile, this economy loves you!

I’m in no way a sadist and I hate seeing people hurting, but it has been very interesting watching people react to the economic stress and cultural changes that have taken place over the past 12 months.


The reactions I’ve seen have run the spectrum of clearing out the house and leaving in the middle of the night; to buying up every “once in a lifetime” deal that comes into view thinking that “now’s the time to buy for those who have the means to do it.” Most though fall somewhere in between. Most people are exhausted at this point and just plain tired of reacting. Like the end of a long day at an amusement park, the continued adrenaline rushes between long periods of waiting have left us punch drunk and groggy. The emotional roller coasters have taken their toll and left us woozy. Take us to the IMAX to watch a 3d movie of the ocean and suck in some AC or drive us home, we’re done. We just don’t want to do it anymore.


Even good news seems to have lost its luster lately. The market reacts slower to positive information now than it used to. People just seem jaded and indifferent to the whole show. Mainly because at this point it all just seems like a show. What’s more real, watching middle-aged desk jockeys get thumped by a giant hammer on a reality show or watching yet another bank who took in all the government aid its fat pockets could hold only to pay out billions to its executives in bonuses. It all seems like bad TV to me. Frankly, I am ready to change the channel, and I am in the finance industry.


The people I’ve gained the most inspiration from throughout this year of economic turmoil are the ones who have embraced it as a chance to change things. The people who have seen their share of misfortune and have turned it into opportunity. Families who have downsized over-indulgent lifestyles to simplify things and do more with less. Individuals who have networked with other individuals to share their resources and thus a little bit of themselves to help out. People who have found that long- lost ability that we all have innate within us to survive. Adapt. Unite. Businesses that have been at the forefront of reinventing themselves and streamlining their shape to better react to the curves, to put themselves in a better place than they were a year ago can immerge stronger than ever when things turn around. And they will turn around.


This has been a truly global event. This will be in the history books. We will live through it. We will be better off for it. Anything that doesn’t kill us will make us stronger.


Be open to the changes that are taking place. Be active in the process. Be vocal about your thoughts and share your ideas. A person who sounds no voice when the problem is being solved has no right to one after the fact to complain. That’s my take on it. I’ve been guardedly optimistic thus far. Now I’m tired of keeping up my guard.


I’m ready to just be optimistic.


Good news anyone…or will I just have to create some myself?

CU's are turning around the life rafts...

I know that in this day and age just having any job is a blessing, but I am compelled to write today because of the special blessing I have to be part of the credit union movement. I know that this may not be the most exciting thing I write about to most of you, but I am passionate about what I do.

I am privileged to be the chief executive officer at a community chartered Federal credit union. I love my career. I love my members. I love the CU movement. In this tornado of economic mayhem the past 18 months, CUs have been doing whatever it takes to keep on doing what we do, taking care of our members and strengthening our communities. I like what Arthur Levitt, former Chairman of the US Securities and Exchange Commission said, "This country is going through no less than an economic revolution." I'll buy that. In my position at the helm of my small ship I have seen things that have never before floated to the surface. These times give new meaning to the term "uncharted waters."

Still, through all of the turmoil, all of the bad news and doomsday prophesy out there, credit unions have continued to be that bit of good news that the media brushes under the rug. With the age old "if it bleeds, it leads" attitude, the failed banks (one after another), the mortgage debacle and all of the painful foreclosures that followed (and continue to), the Madoff madness and the catastrophic credit crunch...it all takes a big fat front seat to the roughly 8000 credit unions that are still lending (over $1.4 BILLION dollars worth so far in 2009), still working hard on loan modifications and mortgages that help keep good people stuck in hard times in good homes, and still paying above market rates to people who are saving their money and we are keeping that money safe by investing it with SAFETY as our main concern instead of profit. Seems that slow and steady really does win the race sometimes and that companies motivated by greed will eventually have to reap what they sow...who knew???

It seems that in these troubled waters, credit unions have become the Coast Guard, the first responders to the crisis. We have stepped in and helped fill the void in credit when the banks decided to shut off the valve. We as an industry have actually increased our flow, made our terms easier, made our members stronger and turned on the lighthouse for the communities we serve because we as an industry know that doing ordinary things in uncertain times leads to extraordinary outcomes.

The cooperative nature of credit unions and the fact that we are people focused and not profit focused is what makes it work, what makes us tick and what keeps us going strong when others are sinking like rocks. Big rocks.

If you are reading this and are a part of a credit union, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Tell your friends and family, this is not a secret society or exclusive club...we want to help as many as we can get into the lifeboats. The way the banks are handling it reminds me of the Titanic. 20 life rafts paddled away from the ship as it went into the cold dark water, most barely half full. 300+ souls bobbed in that water in life jackets and screamed for help as the rafts continued to paddle further away. Only one of the rafts paddled back to the people, and only after nearly all of them had succumbed to hypothermia. They waited too long. They ignored the screams.

The banks are turning their backs on the very people who they made these mortgage loans to, just a few years ago. They are unwilling to work with families desperately trying to get back on track and stay in their homes. The little bit they are willing to do is too little and far too late to really be of any use.

In many areas that have been hit the hardest with foreclosures credit unions are going in full force, trying to work with members to get the financing they deserve and at terms that are fair and honest.

If you are reading this and are not part of a credit union, get online and find one in your area. No matter where you live and work there is a credit union that serves you. Sometimes it takes a little work to find us. We don't have a branch on every corner and don't spend millions on advertising, but we are there, and the only reason we exist is YOU.

Halfway to 70

Me, 34 1/2 years ago

It was bound to happen eventually. Being the oldest cousin, oldest sibling and one the of the oldest in my class all through school, eventually I knew I would reach a point in my life when I would actually feel old. Now I am certainly not saying that 35 is in any way old. (I have seen first hand proof that old is a state of mind more than a state of being) I said that I would get to a point in my life when I would FEEL old. And boy do I ever feel old. In the words of Indiana Jones, "It's not the years Honey, it's the mileage."

It's been an eventful 35 years. I can only imagine that if the next 35 years are as eventful, by the time I reach 70 I will indeed BE old, not that 70 is old, it just happens to be twice my current age. It started off slow enough, elementary school and the brief moment of freedom that is childhood, but then comes middle school and then sports and high school and then dating and then college and then everything that college brings and then it begins to snowball into marriage and family and career and poof...you're 35.

A decade of marriage, 3 kids, a few houses and about twice as many cars and a couple of pets later and here I am at a halfway-point of sorts. Part-way to old, again, not that 70 is OLD. I hear 70 is the new 50...and I look farward to every day along the way to get there.

Anyway, my career is going well, family is growing and wonderful, life is full. Very full. Post Thanksgiving unbutton your pants full. So full in fact is life that my birthday blog is being written on the 8th. Thus is life when you are living in a house where the adults are outnumbered by the kids and the calendar is too full to find the time in it to schedule a meal with your wife or even to sleep more than a few hours. I truly feel lucky at the moment to simply remember what my name is and where I parked the car.

After 35 years I would expect to be able to pass along at least a few nuggets of wisdom...sorry, but this is all I have to pass along at this point:

Life is Good. Thank you Bert & John Jacobs for Jake and Rocket and their simple but profound truths.

Less really is more. After spending my entire birthday cleaning and organizing my garage (my choice) I have come to realize that "STUFF" clutters your life and that quality really does trump quantity. Anything that hasn't been used in 12 months is most likely NOT a necessary item. And also...one man does not need 27 screwdrivers.

You can't choose your family, so be very careful when choosing your friends. The people you spend time with have a huge impact on your life and on your perception of "how it is"...so when you can choose, choose wisely! I try to fill my life with people who challenge me to be better and who see the glass as half full!

Take a chance, make a decision. I tell my team this all the time, and it's almost always true. You are better to make a decision, even if it ends up being the wrong one, than to do nothing or put off a decision until later because you're scared of being wrong. I've taken a lot of risks in my life and my decisions haven't always turned out to be the best ones, but I have always regretted a decision NOT made more than one that in retrospect might not have been right.

There is very little upside to worry. I have seen worry destroy lives. It is unproductive, unattractive, unhealthy and self- destructive. When you feel overwhelmed with worry you can't see the solution, you can't see the light. What will happen will happen, we can't control everything, we CAN control our reactions, and worry is about as useless a reaction as you can find.

Look forward to tomorrow! Although none of us are guaranteed another breath, odds are if you go to sleep tonight you WILL wake up in the morning. If that IS the case than DO SOMETHING GREAT with tomorrow when it comes! I try to end each day, as exhausting as it may have been, with excitement for the next day. Right now my youngest son is 6 months old and his bright-eyed smile is the best wake up call in the world. He is happy not because of anything specific that today brings, but just because today is here. After 35 years I just wish I had the simple optimism of an infant!

This toddler will self destruct in 9..8..7..6...

I never thought my little Boo Boo would scare me. Sure there were the peek-a-boo games when I pretended to be surprised. That was just an act. My middle son has the ability now to scare the snot out of me. The worst part is I think he knows it.

About the time he turned four he started having complete meltdowns. Not "terrible two" type of meltdowns, full on drop your drink and hang on to the counter tantrums. The Super Nanny kind. The kind of tantrum that you see in the middle of Walmart on an hourly basis, thrown by someone else's child. The kind that makes you want to peel your skin off and walk away from the whole ugly mess. Tantrums that melt whatever thoughts were in your troubled brain prior and make it impossible to think for an hour afterward. Bad, bad, bad.

I don't know what started the process. We moved this past fall, added a third boy to the family this spring...maybe one or both of those big events triggered the trouble. Maybe he realized that he is now the middle child. Maybe he figures this is a way to get to spend some one on one time with us...I have no idea what started it, my concern at this point in time is how the heck do I end them. I need to end this insanity before I start throwing my own tantrums right beside him. Before I track down that band of gypsies my parents used to threaten to sell my brothers and I to when we acted up as kids. Where are those gypsies anyway. Now that I'm a parent I would think that I'd be privy to the contact information. Where's the "Gypsy Hotline" to call when you have kids to sell, bad ones.

Now I know my son isn't a bad egg. I know he is still the sweet little man who follows me around the garage with his own little hammer just looking for the chance to help Daddy with a project. The one who used to tell me "I love you so much I going to pop you head off." Ohh...hmmm...maybe I should have read into that a little more...maybe that is precisely what he is attempting to do when he hangs on my shirt screaming at the top of his little lungs.

I know that this is a phase, like all the other parents tell me as they laugh to themselves, knowing that their kids are already long past it. Still, to live in fear of the pending eruption of a new tantrum is like building your dream house next to an active volcano and watching it all the time looking for signs of the next lava flow. Right now we are living in Pompeii. I've seen the documentary, I know how the story can end. I want more than anything for my son to just fight through this on his own and find a way to deal with his anger.

My boys are a passionate gang. "Spirited" is the way a nice old lady at a check out counter once put it. "Your boys sure are spirited aren't they?" I didn't take offense to it. I actually like to tell people when the boys are being boys that my wife and I are raising "free range children." Now for the most part we do have a pretty good discipline system in place and the boys know the rules and our expectations. They are, for the most part, respectful little gentlemen. I know from experience that they will have the next 15+ years to learn how to walk in a straight line and color the sky blue and the grass green. I want to encourage them to think outside the box and play and be as creative as possible now so they can remember how to later, when most others have forgotten. The creative minds are the ones who change the world. I'm not too humble to admit that I want my boys to be those kind of people.

For now though, I just hope I can find a way to get through to my precious little time bomb that these tantrums are not the way. Do they offer yoga for 4 year-olds? Can I get him into anger management classes after preschool? Does he need help finding or realigning his "chi?"

Many more of these explosions and I am going to have to create a rubber room somewhere in the house. Don't flip out...it won't be to lock him in...it will be for the rest of us to escape to.