Alicia Ruby

This week, our two year-old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel - Alicia (my daughter's idea for a cool name) - declined precipitously in less than 24 hours. Our first-rate animal ER here in Greenville did everything they could to save her, in fact it looked for a while as if she would pull out of it.

Sadly, she died in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, as some really great and compassionate people at Upstate Veterinary Hospital worked as hard, and as professionally as anyone, anywhere, could.

Rather than mourn the loss of what should have been a decade of additional years, God, in His mercy, is using this to drive home the importance of gratitude for what I am given.

If you would, let me share with you a letter I wrote to her Saturday morning, before going to Upstate Vet. Hospital to bring her home to us one last time.
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June 23, 2012

My Dear, Sweet, Alicia Ruby -

Even when you were alive, I know you couldn’t read. Somehow, this makes my broken heart feel a little better, though.

You were only in our lives for two years, but the utter joy you gave us, your gentle nature, your unconditional and ever-present love made it worth far more than to not have had you at all.

I wish I knew why you got so sick, and declined so quickly. Two year-old dogs aren’t supposed to have that happen to them. But something very, very wrong was going on, and God, who made all things good, spared you from suffering, and me from having to make the decision to put you to sleep.

When I took my last picture of you alive, and you were looking better, I expected to pick you up the next morning and take you to Dr. Martin, or perhaps next door.

 On the way home I had a flat tire – again God’s providence in making sure I could take the call – the one from Dr. Heft, telling me you  had gone into distress, and your heart had stopped when they started giving you a transfusion.

Because I had just finished changing the tire, I could come back, so you wouldn’t have to be without one of us with you. You did not want us to be away from you, and I had to come back.

They worked to help you breathe, and try to get your heart to start. They began about 1230a on Tuesday morning. I got to you at 1250a. Sweet Puppy, I asked questions as they continued until 1220a. Finally, at 120aI asked Dr. Heft, on a scale of 1-10, what was the likelihood of bringing you back. She was kind even in the way she told me you weren’t coming back.

Several times I bent down and held you while they tried so to get you back. I kissed you, prayed for God to revive you.

I came to embrace the fact that you had left us, and I had to rest in Christ that this was, as all things, to his glory.

Rather, than regret the years we – Annie, Mommy, and me, will not have with you, I have asked God to help me be grateful for the richness of your unselfish love – well, unselfish, except if one of us was eating an orange – for the two years we did.

They allowed me to go to an exam room where they brought you to me, laying you the table. You lay on the towel you were on in the treatment area, and had the towel they had over you as a blanket, so that you could stay warm. They even had a towel folded for a pillow for you.

Your eyes were open, and you looked just like you did when you were resting next to Mommy.

After about an hour, I picked you up, and held you close to my heart and wept so. As I write this, I have had to take my glasses off.

I have wept so many times.

When I left you, I had been with you in that room almost three hours.

I got home, and Mommy did not realize you were gone.

We told Annie the next morning. It was the hardest thing as a parent I have ever done, listening, and filling in blanks as Mommy gently told her you had gone.

Annie wanted, as I had hoped, to have you in the back yard. I got a container from Walmart for you, and Mommy washed your fleece bedding you laid on in your crate.

On Thursday night, I dug a place for you. Between tree roots, stopping to drink tea and water, and sobbing uncontrollably, it took me until 330am. It was one of the highest honors of my life to do this for you.

I will have Annie and Mommy help me design it as a memory garden for you.

Annie wanted you to have some things with you, so she got them out, and drew a diagram showing where she wanted me to put them. To the left of your head will be one of your yellow toys you liked to play tug-of-war with. To the right, the green spray paint lid. Your breeder, told us early on that you would like to play with things like that.

Your plastic “peppermint” is going to your bottom left, and one of your last rawhide bones to your bottom right.

I am putting a picture of Annie on an exam table at Dr. Mages’s office, and that wonderful picture of you and Annie taken in my study with the foyer to your backs. Annie looks so happy, and you look so sweet, even though you are not looking into the camera.

Finally, I asked Mommy to bring a fresh orange for you. I will never forget the first time I peeled one after you came home, and you went nuts, as you did over carrots, spinach, celery, almost any fruit or veggie.

I was not able to sleep last night, not because I was stressed, but because I needed some way to express my thoughts of the past week.

In a few minutes, I am coming to bring you home – not as I had hoped, but – under the circumstances – as I want.

I will lay you in the container, and seal it with red "racers" tape. You would bark at the cars when I would watch a race on TV, so it seems fitting. I will seal it that way so that nothing can get to you.

Before I do, I will put the things I described in this letter, along with the letter itself.

I will place you so that your face is toward our house. When we look toward your place in the years to come, we will be looking toward each other.

By the way, my view of Heaven has changed in the last year or so. Some better teaching has helped me to understand that I won’t just be floating around in a spiritual stupor. God will have things there that were blessings for us here.

So, I will – Annie Mommy and I – will see you soon.

I will close with the little song Annie and I made up for you –

“Alicia Marie Ruby Dee,

Won’t you come away with me?

I love you!

Let’s elope!

We’ll have dinner by the sea.

Oh, how happy we will be!

I love you!

Let’s elope!”

I wrote the first part, and Annie did most of the second.

Well, as hugely difficult as this is for me, it too, is my honor.

It is time for me to bring you home, Alicia. See you in a few minutes.

I won’t forget your orange.

Love,

Daddy

Facebook vs. 10x Growth - Or How I decided not to drink Mai Tais at the Tiki Hut

I have diagnosed ADD. 

If you have read previous posts of Juggling Wolverines, you already know this. 

You may also know, both from Facebook, and this blog, that I see ADD as both a blessing and a curse.

People with ADD are often creative and pretty visionary.

At the same time, we have this knack for creating utter chaos and destruction.

When I was diagnosed back in 2004, I began taking a med - Strattera - which was hugely helpful in allowing me to focus.

Coaching was another big help. I had an executive coach work with me for three years, giving me a good start.

In 2008, I started with a comprehensive coaching program for entrepreneurs - The Strategic Coach. 

"Coach" as members refer to it, was founded by Dan Sullivan and his wife Babs Smith. 

Coach has been hugely helpful to me in providing tools I desperately needed, and use.

A great concept Dan Sullivan has laid out is called 10x Growth.

The idea is that rather than trying to grow, say to a point that is twice where you are now, you can actually grow ten times in the exact same period, using the same size of staff, or less, with the same energy or less.

My reading Dan's thoughts, and listening to audio on the idea, came at about the same time as I was hitting brick walls this year because of my ADD. 

Dan himself has ADD. He wound up inspiring me to find an ADD coach in addition to what I am getting out of Strategic Coach.

Enter the incomparable Nancy Snell - a kind yet blunt Yankee. In the course of working with her, we reached a conclusion - one corroborated My Reason for Living, and two friends of mine - Jon and Phil.
I was addicted to Facebook. 

No, wait, I was intoxicated with Facebook, like a guy in a leisure suit at the Tiki Hut bar at a Howard Johnson Hotel in Toledo - asking for just one more.

At this realization, I heard the voice of another friend, Julia Waller, who spent seven hours with me at the Strategic Coach HQ in Toronto helping identify and define the things I should focus on as my Unique Ability.

She pointed out that I was spending too much time on Facebook.

All five, over the last two years,  were separately telling me that Facebook was eating up my time.

And, I was hearing my hero, Dan Sullivan, mentioning that once you adopt a mindset for 10x Growth, you see things you are doing that are not "1ox" in quality. 

I realized at once that using the same amount of time or less to grow 10x as opposed to 2x was practical and real.

I also realized that Julia, Coach Nancy, Wife Nancy, and friends Jon and Phil were pointing me to the treasure trove of time I could invest - 
 in 10x Growth.

So where does that leave you and me? 

Well, for one, you made it to Juggling Wolverines, and you are giving me an audience for some fun I have writing.

You also give me the chance to say that interacting with you on FB is great fun, and sometimes profound as I get to share in relationships with a pretty diverse bunch.

But, I want to grow, and GROW 10X, not just monetarily, but in the entirety of my life  - whether that is in creation of value for entrepreneurial and estate planning clients, helping other business owners in an outside venture I recently became involved in - or growing 10x as a husband, father, friend, racing driver, whatever.

So much of that rides on my investment of time.

I have been riding Facebook like a Weight Watcher's refugee at an all-you-can-eat Chinese super buffet.

So, I am faced with a choice.

1. Continue on FB as I am now, and not just fail to hit 10x Growth, but move backwards- Or 
2. Put my FB account on ice.

I want to grow 10x.

My FB account goes on ice.

A big part of my problem with Facebook is the stimulation I get from seeing posts I just have to respond to.

My blog gives me the opportunity to write, just for the joy of it, and sometimes someone responds.

It is just not as convenient for me to find out - not as easy as logging on to FB.

So, off of Facebook I go - off to reallocated time for 10x Growth - and still writing my blog, perhaps more than I have, but as an outlet that is itself an investment in my sanity. 

Not a Mai Tai marathon at the Tiki Hut.

The Fight for the Votings Rights of the Viability Challenged Grows Fiercer

It appears that on further review, the number of Viability Challenged voters who cast ballots in the 2010 SC general election is not 950 as first thought, but a much, much smaller number.

This saddens me.

First because the courageous vanguard is so tiny.

Then because it will be that much harder to protect the voting rights of the Viability Challenged if more have not stood up before - pardon my choice of words.

Hanging Out in a Nouveau Entrepreneurial Culture

Last weekend, I attended an international conference of new technologies and deregulated energy entrepreneurs.

Okay, I didn't exactly go to Paris, but Charlotte, NC is pretty convenient for such a cool opportunity.

So why would an attorney go to such an event? Well, attorneys have felt the recession like everyone else. In fact, while there I met or heard surgeons, other attorneys, corp execs, even a guy who ran a honkingly large division of Virgin Records.

What did I come away with?

A big dose of insight into how to create value for consumers, for one.

Loads of stimulation of ideas as I listened to people who had started companies and businesses in the US, Canada, and Europe.

Shoot! Even the Donald was there, and his appreciation for the smaller entrepreneur was gratifying.


THE SMALLER ENTREPRENEUR!!! Shoot, that may have been the biggest thing I got from the three days of this conference.

In a microchip world, the smaller entrpreneur can now - regularly does - achieve financial results that thirty years ago required boatloads of financing and a big physical footprint.

Begrudgingly, the President even gets a little credit.

Yes, hard to believe, isn't it? I am giving credit to the President.

He has been pushing the States to deregulate electricity and natural gas marketing by a 2015 target date.

Bill Gates and Warren Buffet both see this as the next big thing.

A huge number of the attendees at this conference were already achieving some great value creation in the US, Canada and Western Europe in that economic segment alone.

And yes, I went to the conference already committed to that concept.

What is so amazing is that the ability to enter and participate in that business, even across state, provincial or national borders is great for almost anyone.

No joke.

The Challenge of Taking Free Days

Sometime soon I am going to do something I have not done in years.

Take a family vacation.

That may not seem like such a big deal, but I somehow lost the ability to do that after a parent became ill in 2007.

Oh sure. I have taken days off, but not for real, get out of Dodge, turn off the cell phone, and ditch the lap-top time.

A community of entrepreneurs I am a part of, calls these days "Free Days." Those are defined as 24-hour periods, midnight to midnight, where you are completely disconnected from work.

How will I possibly do it?

By investing some time and energy in delegating to a crack team, and outsourcing some things that need to be done, but are not my unique ability.

AND by planning for a productive week of both revenue generation and business tuning upon my return.

Thinking on this, I realize that to stay fresh and creative, I have to keep Free Days in the mix as part of my regular schedule, not as treatment for burn-out.

That is how to make sure I can continue to create value.

Former Fundies, Evangelicals, and Death of a Salesman

I have mused over the last week about an exchange on Facebook with a friend who, like me, is an Evangelical and Reformed believer. She was sincerely adamant about certain conservative thinkers using terms like "objective legal standard" or "food stamp president" as code words for white racism.

So, I asked some other friends who are conservative, and are black. The scratched their heads figuratively.

I later listened to Congressman Allen West, who himself has been black for some time, and is a conservative by birth - - or is it the other way around?

I also heard J.C. Watts, former QB of the Oklahoma Sooners, former Oklahoma Secretary of State, Former Congressman, and I would say a potential Veep candidate.

He supports Newt, one of the code-speak offenders.

So, why do white liberals, who are former fundamentalist Christians and/or current Evangelical Christians (there is a BIG difference) buy into the code-speak thing?

Well, I worked it in reverse. I WAS a liberal, so much so that I could have made Nancy Pelosi look like Jesse Helms.

I protested outside the South African mission to the UN protesting apartheid. I still think the policy was wrong, by the way.

I was the typical Southern white liberal student who wanted to change things. I was angry.

And I did not want to be looked down upon by people from up North.

Then it hit me!

The unseen actor on the thinking of liberal former Fundamentalists and liberal Evangelicals was and is -

WILLY LOMAN!!!!!

You know. The protagonist in the Tennesee Williams play, Death of a Salesman

He wanted everyone to like him. He was obsessed with the idea. He guided his sons with exhortations that the way to succeed in life was to get everyone to like you.

So, liberals and progressives in general are hypersensitive to anything that remotely looks like it could offend.

As such, discourse is chilled, otherwise acceptable words are relegated to a trash heap of language, and

Grace is sacrificed on the altar of a legalistic moral code.

The bad news, the ex-Fundamentalists are still Fundamentalists, but in a better part of town.

The good news - the right people like them!

By the way, Willy's obsession eventually led to self-destruction.

On the Edge of Catholicism

For those of you who know me personally, and know I hold to a Reformed theological world-view, chill. It's all good.

I remain an Anglican trapped in the body of a Presbyterian.

I am reading a wonderful book entitled More Christianity, by Dwight Longenecker. Dwight is a former Anglican priest who came into the Catholic Church a few years back, along with his wife and children.

His terrific book is a cogent explanation to Protestants of what Catholic Christianity is all about.

While I find more than a few things in Catholicism I am not comfortable with, the sheer grandeur of faith as expressed by Catholic believers is, I think, pretty awesome, and gives me pause to consider whether I, as a Reformed believer, am too familiar with God - appreciating His personal and intimate relation to me, but being indifferent to His vastness.

Our Dog, and Media of Exchange

You may remember that we have a cute Rottweiller-Yorkie mix, Medusa.

We have had a problem with Medusa bringing in large sticks to chew on when coming back in from the open concept restroom.

Chasing her around the house, demanding she give us the stick, has not worked. So, we have resorted to giving her a treat if she drops the stick.

Works every single time. Unfortunately, Medusa seems to be a Conservative Republican Dog.

I know I should be happy about this, since William F. Buckley, Jr. (may his name be praised) is my political godfather.

Medusa has made the connection between collecting the sticks, and exchanging them for treats.

How cool is that????

The story now takes an unfortunate turn.

You see, Medusa, as dogs often do, eats her own poop.

Our dog, one day brought in a "product."

Alarmed, I ran to the kitchen, quickly found the bag of treats, and offered a couple to her. Medusa moved away from her fecal snack, and happily gobbled the treats.

I recovered the "item," having had the presence of mind to get a couple of paper towels, and a hazardous materials suit.

Soon, Medusa decided to switch from sticks to poop, and now the cute business transaction has taken on the context of something akin to extortion.

Sorta like the individual mandate under the President's healthcare program.

Maybe Medusa is an Obama supporter after all.