I was browsing my music collection this evening. When I do that I usually run across something I haven’t listened to in ages and ages and tonight was no exception. This evening it happened to be Pet Shop Boys, “Very”. For those that remember it, or have it, it’s the CD they put out in the opaque orange jewel case embossed with little circles.

Thats when it hit me. I haven’t routinely bought physical music for a long time. Oh, when I lived up in Portland, I would always buy the KINK Live CDs at Starbucks every fall. It benefits SMART (Start Making A Reader Today) and it’s locally produced by the KINK staff and each edition usually has some pretty awesome acoustic tracks on it from some very cool artists.

But other than that, I’m pretty much an iTunes guy nowadays … like a million other people, I suppose.

But I MISS going to the record store and buying physical media. I started thinking abut that tonight, trying to think of what it is that I miss. It can’t be the convenience factor – searching online and downloading is much more convenient and efficient than going to the record store and maybe or maybe not finding the album you’re looking for.

I think its the hunt itself, frankly. I think back to when I was a young man, especially back when we were all buying vinyl, and I remember, if dimly, the charge I would get in finding an album that I’d been looking for. I remember the feeling of “Wow! NEW music!” that would hit me as I placed the needle on the record, or later slid the shiny CD in to the tray.

You usually bought the album because you heard a song on the radio, or in a club, or at a friends house. You might have bought that album for one stinkin’ song! Sometimes that one song was the only thing worth listening to on the album too. Most of the time, though, there were other good songs on the disc and in some cases, there were some real gems hidden away as track 9.

Buying music online is nice, I can’t deny it. The simplicity of finding pretty much anything you want any time you want it and having it in your personal music device of choice within seconds can’t be denied.

But there’s something missing. Wandering around a record store, browsing the bins, maybe even flirting a little with the clerk at the counter (it only happened once … In fact, when I bought PSB’s Very…) spending time reading the song lists, looking at the album art, discovering a completely new artist because the store was playing something cool and you asked about who it was.

Maybe it’s time to visit the local record store again.

Are any still in business?

I’ve found myself, recently, thinking of myself like George Bailey.  Specifically, George Bailey in the middle of the movie when he discovers that Bedford Falls is Pottersville and Mr. Gower actually gave the kid poison…

Why?  Well, almost three years ago, I made a decision about my life, my career and my future which not only turned out badly for me, but left a large number of people who trusted me, relied on me and respected me in a lurch.  Is it my fault that their situation got more miserable after I left?  No.  But I just can’t help but think that if I’d stayed where I was, all of our situations today would be much happier.

I have more than one Clarence the Guardian Angel in my life.  Unfortunately, I’ve not been very good at listening to them in the past.  Most, if not all, of them are a whole lot smarter than I am.  I should listen more.

When one looks at one’s decisions in life and starts toting up the pluses and minuses, one begins to realize where one could have made better decisions.  Can those decisions be changed now?  Of course not.  Each decision in life acts as a lesson taught – whether or not it is recognized as a lesson learned.  I’ve tried hard to learn from my prior decisions in order to make better ones in the future.  I guess I just need more practice.

Psychiatrists will tell you that when something is causing you distress, you can do one of two things about it – one internal, one external.  You can change how you feel about the situation or you can attempt to make a change in the situation itself.

My method has almost always tended toward the latter rather than the former.  So now, I find myself in a situation caused by my reactions to a situation which was caused by my reactions to a situation which was caused by my reactions to yet another situation a few years ago.  Am I in a “bad” place?  Heck no.  I have a great job, a decent roof over my head and a life that many would envy, certainly.  I have nothing to complain about – honestly.  Am I “happy”?  Well, that’s a whole other question.  I’m certainly happy that I have health and life and friends and family.  What little I can complain about is stuff I really have no right to.  It’s all whiny, selfish, unimportant, self-absorbed crap.  I’m in a city and state I don’t like.  I’m dealing with a climate I don’t like (and it’s not just the heat in summer … I never in a million years would have thought I’d ever get sick of sunshine – but I’m sick of it).  I run in to people around this place every day that I don’t like and I really miss my old friends.

And when two weeks ago, my home was burglarized … well, that didn’t help either.  That’s never happened to me before.  No matter where I’ve lived.

But, one thing I can say without doubt.  The actions and leadership of a single person can make a difference.  In some cases a huge difference.  I used to consider myself simply one cog in a large, immovable, unchangeable machine.  I used to hear compliments that people would make about my talents and abilities and slough them off – after all, I was raised in New England humility where you didn’t trumpet your accomplishments because you were told, confidently, that good, hard, high quality work would be rewarded on its own merits when seen by others.  I used to think that my presence – or any one person’s presence – on a project or on a team or in an organization wouldn’t matter one way or the other.  Sure, the team matters, but most teams don’t do very well or feel very good about themselves without a good leader – or a good coach.

I wish I’d come to realize this earlier and I wish I’d come to realize earlier that I am that good leader.  I am that good coach.  People have been telling me this for years.  Now, staring 50 in the face, my ears have finally opened to the news.

I, probably like most people, have people in my life who have been affected by war … some having given the last full measure.

And I, probably like many people, don’t give anywhere near the level of respect, love, admiration and thanks to these people that I should.

Paradoxically, many of the people in my life who are or have served would also bristle at the very idea of what I just wrote in that last sentence.

It is on this day, now called Veteran’s Day, formed after WWI as Armistice Day, that we as a nation pause to recognize those who have served in our armed forces.  Unlike Memorial Day, we honor all who have served – past and present, dead or alive, young or old, man or woman.  Today, we as a nation make it a point to thank our service people.  We hold parades and special church services.  Politicians make speeches.  People who do that sort of thing attach even more magnetic ribbons to their cars.

What I find curious, however, is the general approach that many of these people (at least the ones I know) take toward all of this public adulation – many of them just hate it.  I suppose to a certain extent, this is simply a reflection of how most of us are – reasonably humble about ourselves and uncomfortable with a great deal of praise.  It’s interesting to me to hear from these folks that they don’t feel right about the thanks and the praise.  They were just doing their jobs.  They were just following orders.  They were professional soldiers, sailors, Marines.  “What are people thanking me for?”

Maybe some of it is the idea of being singled out as individuals.  For most of these folks, they’ve spent their careers as part of a very large team.  They’ve gotten used to being addressed as a group.  Individual recognition, while fairly common, comes as the result of a direct action by the person, not just “for your service”.  Perhaps that’s part of it.  Perhaps the discomfort comes from being thanked by people in the general public, who generally have no idea what these folks have gone through or how they’ve lived, simply for being employed in the job they do.  It’s almost as it they feel like someone is thanking the girl at the checkstand of the local grocery store just for coming to work at 7:00 am.

I don’t know either.  I am not a veteran.  I’ve never served my country other than trying to be a good citizen.  So I’m in the category of the majority of the rest of the population who has no real idea how these folks have actually lived.  Oh sure, I’ve heard the stories -but the stories I’ve heard are all “civilianized.”  Spend a little time around a group of folks who have served together and you, as the full-time-never-served civilian will feel distinctly out of place very quickly – and not because these folks are mean or trying to be anti social – but merely because they have a jargon, a language, a set of common experiences that I can’t share … and most of it I don’t understand.  It’s no different than one of my non-technical friends sitting in a room full of Broadcast Engineers.

What I do know is that over the years, I’ve learned to temper the amount of thanks I send out to our veterans.  I appreciate their service and their sacrifice.  I am thankful that they have chosen a life of service and sacrifice.  But I stop short of just sending out blanket thank-you’s because the last thing I want to do is to make my friends feel uncomfortable.

But there are days when, I’m sorry good friends, I’m going ot be a bit more effusive about this.  Our service people and veterans have given much to our country and to people all over the world.  No matter how you feel about the politics of any particular situation these people are or were in, they chose to serve and they chose to do the job they’ve done.  For that, they absolutely deserve my thanks and the thanks of a grateful nation.  These are, in most cases, amazing yet quiet people who have dedicated their lives to the rest of us.

So, Veterans … thank you for your service.

Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.

Why no blog from me to date? Can’t say really. And who knows, maybe this lasts six months and I get tired of it and move on. I’m like the wind that way.

Ed