We The People

Posted on September 17, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

“We the People” is the opening phrase for the United States Constitution, which was ratified on September 17th. Frequently we focus on the Declaration of Independence and the Fourth of July, yet it is the Constitution that defines the United States government. It helped define what we can do with our time and our money, frequent themes within a frugal life. As a writer I am drawn to the words and what they mean to me. So, allow me on this overlooked anniversary to play with those words and a bit of logic. Feel free to do the same and see where they take you. What country do we, not just me, define?

We the People sounds like a fine basis for a society. We, a plural, a community. The People, capitalized, humans without discrimination.

Look at the phrase without the influence of history or political histrionics. Now, design a society that supports that concept.

People. People must live and to do so they must survive. The basics come to mind: food and shelter. Food leads to agriculture and the proper care of the land, the water, and the air. Shelter is not as much about housing as it is about protection from the elements. Houses work well for that, but the main thing they do is protect people from the detrimental effects of exposure: too much sun, too much wind, too much rain, too much cold, and their many variations. For people to survive they must be healthy, which with good food and shelter becomes much easier. Health also includes defense against nature’s biological hazards. Sanitation helps and treatment of infections is also necessary.

People is plural, many individuals.

We is effectively singular, it is community. At its smallest, community is the family. Generations extend family forward and back giving importance to more than one lifespan, to more than only the present. The younger generations benefit from the mother’s health even before the child is born. The older generations benefit from the support of others while giving back experience and lessons. Teaching works best when communications are easiest. Different people and different stories mean different communications: written word, song, dance, picture, experience.

Those two paragraphs are enough to argue for good health care, housing, environment, infrastructure, and a knowledge of the world around us. Child care, elder care, education, the arts, and an understanding of each other provide continuity for the species.

Labels blind us to the true meanings of words. But it seems to me that providing for we the people would be conservative, a philosophy and strategy that seeks to preserve and perpetuate our species.

Defense is necessary, but only because this “we the people” disagrees with another “we the people”.

Finance is necessary, but only because we have yet to figure out how to provide for, and distribute equitably enough goods for everyone.

The concepts we and our society need aren’t new. They are fundamental and part of our history. Since we learned to write, we’ve recorded the effort; but our species goes back hundreds of times longer than our oldest writings. Those issues have been with us throughout.

The one thing that has gotten us this far is that none of is can do this alone. It requires “We the People”. So, as I asked above, “What country do we, not just me, define?”

PS There is a personal lesson. Having done this I started to look at and reassess my personal choices and values and realized that I lack that simple definitive statement. I want to find my personal version of We the People, and I’ll make sure it is a complete sentence.

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Tired Busy Good

Posted on September 14, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Life’s been busy lately. Good – I think. Let me check. I’m tired enough to have missed something.

Somewhere there’s a song that goes something like, “Time ain’t money when you’ve got nothing but time.“, and no, it isn’t the Huey Lewis song.

Lately, I’ve been booked with so many unpaid opportunities that I am pleasantly overwhelmed. I haven’t even minded a couple of the no-shows because those dinners turned into quiet recuperations. Well, I do actually wonder what we missed. We’ll get back to those projects. They are ours. Their schedules are in our control, mostly.

A year ago, that much activity only happened sporadically. Now, this activity has me fondly remembering my vacation from last fall when I walked across Scotland in the rain. Carving out that block of time wasn’t easy. This year it would be tougher. And that’s good. Economic reports chronicle unemployment, salaries, discretionary spending, and interest rates. Gross Domestic Product (GDP) may sway government policy, but there are intangibles that precede economic recoveries. I think I’m witnessing the turn of the tide.

I knew that the financial turmoil could get this bad. The possibility was obvious, but I thought the probability was low. Oh well. Here we are. Luckily, there is more than one here here. There’s a here that’s up there with organizations and ultra-rich living in a disconnected world of financial instruments and abstractions, where frugality may mean foregoing necessities that are unimaginable luxuries for 99% of the world’s population.  There’s a here down here where most people pay bills by working. Make something or provide a direct service and get paid. Build a wall, wire a house, mow a lawn, counsel someone’s that distraught, teach and receive money in exchange. Of course, within the American system, everyone is allowed to set their goal to whatever level they desire.

Luke: She’s rich.
Han Solo: [interested] Rich?
Luke: Rich, powerful. Listen, if you were to rescue her, the reward would be…
Han Solo: What?
Luke: Well, more wealth than you can imagine!
Han Solo: I don’t know, I can imagine quite a bit.
(Star Wars: Episode IV)

My schedule isn’t the only one that is filling. Friends are harder to get in touch with. Folks in cubicles are getting home later. Entrepreneurs are meeting, planning, and gathering resources. A fair chunk of my community of friends are most easily phoned after 9PM. The rest of the day is booked. Last night I was 0 for 4 trying to call friends before 8PM.

In my opinion, our society works best when it isn’t disconnected. But while some segment of society seems to have lost compassion for the rest that rely on public education, health, transportation, and recreation, they are getting to the point that I am beginning to feel sorry for them. (Note: I say stereotypical because I am very aware of very aware people like Warren Buffet and such.) They may have money but they seem to be losing wealth.

There is great turmoil above. Down below though, there seems to be an awareness brewing of what to trust, which systems continue to work, and who to deal with. There’s an angry sky with lightning and thunder, but beneath it farmers’ tractors are rumbling to life and the wheels are slipping, slipping, and now possibly catching and gaining traction. Sometimes we have to ignore the weather and get to work anyway.

Life isn’t perfect. I continue to wonder about paying my bills. I also am heartened by the response to my classes and my art; and I am heartened by the anecdotal observation that I am not alone. Lots of people are tired, because they are busy, and that is good.

 

This post was brought to you by, a very late evening writing session after a very long day. Good.

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Training The Trainers

Posted on September 10, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Classes have begun. Well, of course classes have begun; it’s September. Outside the pubic school system though, classes are continual. Before graduation, education was something scheduled for nine months out of twelve. After graduation, testing and learning are daily events. That was true before graduation too, but summer vacation fought hard against learning. One of the signs that it’s time to listen and learn again is when things don’t seem to be going the way we expect. Considering the planet and the economy right now, there’s a lot of listening and learning that needs to happen. Luckily, There are a lot of people taking both roles.

I helped teach a class this week. Art and Photo Book Making was an evening’s event put together by Joe Menth (co-owner of Fine Balance Imaging with Nancy MacFarland) and me. Joe talked about the how of making the book: image quality, file management, creative options, etc. I talked about the why of it: gift vs. sales, price and cost sensitivities, sale distribution, etc. We had a good enough time and a large enough audience that we’ll probably do it again. Stay tuned. While Joe taught his section I sat and learned. I don’t know if our roles switched when I was talking, but there’s always that possibility.

People amaze me. Give anyone enough time and eventually they’ll get to a topic that they know better than most. Even kids can be experts. Ask most parents about who is the family’s computer expert. It probably isn’t the oldest person in the room. When I was in school though, we were taught to sit there and be quiet. We weren’t even allowed outside the school grounds for lunch. Everyone ate in the cafeteria. The local Dairy Queen would’ve loved it if we could only walk from our parking lot to theirs every noon. Nope. For the most part, we sat there and listened. I won’t try to tell you it was all right and proper. Some classes were chaos and some were physically dictatorial. But in any case, the flow of information was well-defined. It took years for me to loosen up and realize that there were things I could teach the teachers.

Teachers must be taught. At some point, a person stands into that role, whether through a desire to teach, in response to a request, or sometimes by chance. I’ve fallen in to teaching. I enjoy public speaking, at least after the first five minutes of wondering how it is going to go this time; and I’ve learned to recognize that there are things I know better than most. Being an expert isn’t as important as having an interest in the topic, an interest in the audience, and an audience that wants to learn.

Karate taught me that. When I started, I was respectfully impressed with everyone with a black belt. Even before I had a green belt though, my instructor (Shobayashi Karatedo Kyoshi Jerry Gould) put me in charge of a class. He says. I do. But what was I supposed to do? There was no time for hesitation, so I mimicked what I’d seen in class. I started with the basic meditation, which purposely went a little longer than usual, and the basic exercises. By the end of that, I’d decided to step slowly through some of what I’d already learned. I stayed within my comfort zone and eventually made it to the end of the class. They liked it. How could they? I wasn’t a black belt. I barely knew more than they did. Some even knew more, but about different aspects. Ah, so that’s why he had me teach the class.; so I’d learn that knew something and that there was no reason to fear being up front. Or it could have been that he needed a break.

Writing this blog is a continuance of that realization. I am not an expert, but I also acknowledge my experience, my openness, and my lack of fear within topics that are burdened with taboos. Money is central to our culture, society, and civilization, but talking about it in the first person is discouraged. Yet, someone has to say something, even if it is merely to be a starting point for someone else’s discussion.

New Road Map Foundation (where I am currently the board Secretary) exists as a resource for people wanting to learn about money and their relationship with it. Personal financial literacy, integrity, and independence are not taught in schools, so someone has to do it. Most people are self-taught simply by living and learning. Too many give up. There’s no comfortable place to talk about it, or no one to talk with, and they don’t see authority figures as role models. New Road Map has stepped up a notch and, in addition to hosting forums and classes for people want to learn more, New Road Map is teaching a class in how to teach financial literacy, integrity, and independence. (Sign up soon. I think there’s still room for the Training The Trainers session in New England. Oh yeah, and it’s free.)

Our world is changing rapidly and old ways and perspectives are being replaced. I suspect that we each have the capacity to learn the necessary skills and healthier world views, but experience alone is a drastic course. That’s one reason why I applaud teachers, whether they are in the school system, working independently, or working informally on a personal level. If an audience wants to learn, then the biggest hurdle has been cleared.

A friend of mine (Steve Smolinsky) has a concise way of saying that, but I’ll add more words because I enjoy typing, “Pay Attention. Add Value. Have Fun.” Go check out his web site and his blog for his expansion of the description (and hire the man for some lucrative consulting gigs.) For me, Pay Attention, is at least partly listening to what people want and understanding their situation. Add Value is that simple act of making sure that everyone involved gets something positive out of the interaction. Have Fun, is obvious, and ask yourself how often it is overlooked. I’ve sat through enough lectures to know that it is possible to have a class that includes none of those elements; yet, believe it or not, even karate classes can include all three. Make it un-fun and even if I learned something, I doubt that I’ll be back. Make it fun, and as long as I learned something, I’ll probably come back for more and probably bring a friend.

Classes have begun, and I suspect that most of the people reading this post graduated from school and are in the midst of the continuing adult education program called life. We know that learning never stopped. And now it looks like it’s time for us to learn a little quicker, probably from each other as we all become teachers teaching teachers. We’re all in this together.

PS Don’t forget, I’ll be teaching my class on Modern Self-Publishing on September 28th at the Langley Center for New Media. Now, can someone finally teach me to do a better job of promoting my own work?

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Let Them Say No

Posted on September 7, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

I applied for a job. They said no. I’m disappointed but not surprised. I think they’re missing out on a great opportunity, but they probably wanted someone who lived closer (it couldn’t be age discrimination.) I asked anyway. It is easier to say no first, save me the effort, save them the time, save me the rejection. But I’ve decided that letting them say no cuts out a step or two, and maybe ends in a yes.

Almost every day since my triple whammy, I’ve applied for a job, networked, or at least shopped around. My portfolio may have the right stocks, but in times like these it’s prudent to pay the bills with cash instead of depressed stock. Besides, on the fun side, boat prices have probably dropped more than house prices. There are some great bargains out there, and who knows, maybe we’re heading to a Waterworld existence. Nah.

It is easy to look at job openings and find reasons why they won’t work. Some job descriptions are so specific that it’s obvious that they have one person in mind and they already know their first name; but policies dictate that the job must be made public, so we get a glimpse of some company’s office politics. Other jobs are so gloriously defined that the company is hunting for super-heroes. About the only thing left to chance is cape or no cape. Most jobs are described as needing a list of talents, skills, experiences, and conditions that are individually reasonable but collectively almost impossible to find in one body.

If I just limited myself to the jobs that exactly matched me, then I’d be saying no to possibly every job out there, except for the ones that are purposely vague. (Applicant must be breathing and show up in daylight occasionally.)

Once upon a time as a lead engineer I had to winnow through applicants. No one perfectly matched our requirements. I wasn’t surprised. We were designing a type of vehicle that had never flown. No one could know everything that was needed. I knew more qualified people were available but they hadn’t applied. They’d self-selected themselves out of the process by looking at the criteria and measuring themselves against it. They didn’t have everything, so they decided to not try.

For my job search, instead of measuring myself against the listed criteria, I realized that there were three questions involved. My task is to ask and answer the question: “Do I want the job?”, which I answer based on my interests, goals, and values. The company hiring people has already asked their first question, “Does anyone want this job?” Then they get to ask the question, “Do we want anyone that answered our first question?” If I say no immediately, I’ve mistakenly taken responsibility for their questions and answers.

There are jobs that I’d like to take on, even though I don’t know everything about them. That’s an opportunity to learn. When I was reading resumes I was thinking about more than the technical criteria. Of course, I wanted someone who could do the job, but an expert that is hard to get along with isn’t as useful in a team as someone who’d shown that they could learn and get along with others. I accepted the notion that training would be involved.

When I apply for a job, I don’t know, and can’t know, what interconnections the company has to keep in mind. I might have downplayed skills that they consider vital. I know that I might be measured against the other applicants as much as against the criteria. I might be the only person who said yes.

In terms of jobs and even business opportunities measuring myself against abstract criteria is daunting; but jobs aren’t filled by abstractions and opportunities present themselves to everyone.

In turmoil and chaos there is opportunity. There must be a lot of opportunity floating about right now. Turmoil and chaos eject people from their comfort zones. Comfort zones are yes zones. Outside of the comfort zones reside many no’s. No I don’t want to do that, or that, or that. Take me back to the land of familiarity. It’s 2011. Sorry. That land is under redevelopment. Yes’s and no’s are in turmoil too.

Some friends who own and operate small businesses have found old markets evaporate and new possibilities arise. It is easy to try to reinforce the familiar old markets because sometimes their interruption is temporary. New possibilities are easy to discount because they have no history to bolster credibility. But this is the time when transitions are critical and powerful.

I look at the new possibilities the way I look at resumes. This may not be perfect, but does it fit? Can it fit? If it isn’t ideal, is it still better than every other option?

One friend received an unsolicited offer to teach a class. They said no. They didn’t feel that they were expert enough. They measured themself against an abstraction. The people who asked them to teach had measured them against more pragmatic and actually endearing criteria. They liked the teacher and wanted to work with that teacher. A personal no can speak louder than someone else’s yes.

Saying yes to myself moves me forward. Saying no for someone can be demoralizing for both of us, and I might get it wrong. By letting them say no, instead of doing it for them, they get the opportunity to say yes.

This post was brought to you by a personal yes. (Ah, the familiar role of the artist.) I’ll let you say no to reading it if you wish, but you might just say yes instead. You probably did if you got this far.

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Evaporated Wealth

Posted on September 3, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Where’d all the wealth go? The market drops. DNDN falls off a cliff. My house’s assessed value shrinks? The nation doesn’t appear to be worth as much. My net worth is a lot less than it was before. How did the wealth evaporate?

Wealth appears to be evaporating all around us, except for those lucky enough to be holding gold, or those who are enjoying the perks of executive compensation, or lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time with the right skills. When the price of something drops, the wealth associated with that asset drops at the same time and speed and to the same extent. A vacant lot in my neighborhood was listed at over $300,000 a few years ago. Now it is listed at about $175,000. The owner’s asset has dropped almost 50%. Where’d the wealth go?

In my opinion, wealth is an illusion. It is a powerful illusion, and partly forms the basis of our economy, but it is an abstraction that we impose upon the world. Abstractions and illusions can vanish with a thought, and if we decide to think that way, wealth can vanish just as quickly.

Pop that bubble though and find that it’s not a balloon. Deflate the concept of wealth and it stops shrinking when it reduces to an inner kernel of value. Value, at least one way I use the word, is more tangible, and less likely to change because of opinion.

We could decided that the price of the vacant lot was zero. The price is merely what the market will bear. If no one wants to buy it, it’s price would necessarily be very low. But its value wouldn’t be zero. The land can hold a house and grow a crop. If someone set the price at zero, and someone bought it, they’d get value for the smallest trade in wealth.

Some things can have zero value. Investments with Bernie Madoff, shares of bankrupt companies, the charred remains of a dollar bill burnt to light a cigar, are all worthless, except as stories. Writers can find value in anything.

Much of our society is based on the illusion of wealth and the common agreement of what a currency can be traded for. Those are both abstractions, but they are necessary abstractions, at least for a little while as we evolve our society and civilization into something more sustainable and equitable. Without those illusions it is harder to trade services for cash which can be traded for the goods and services we need in our modern lives.

Watching wealth can be demoralizing and exhilarating. Most people invested for less than a decade have had too little experience with exhilaration. It is the counter swing of the financial pendulum. Human history shows that the pendulum rarely gets stuck on either end of its swing for long. The swings may show up in dollar signs but they also show up in emotions. Optimism and pessimism swing with wealth, though usually slightly out of synch; otherwise, bubbles wouldn’t catch people by surprise.

Watching value is harder than watching wealth just like seeing what the magician is really doing is harder than being taken in by the sleight of hand. Value is fundamental and more closely tied to quantitative analysis. It can be boring.   Value can also be encouraging.

Recently a friend took me aside. She literally suggested we walk away from the traffic on Main Street and sit on the beach. She’d been worried about how I felt amidst the recent financial difficulties; but instead of handing out advice or wagging a finger at a risky style of investing, she wanted me to know that she’d looked at the companies I was invested in and agreed with me. I was invested in good companies. I knew and know that, which is why my emotional swings have been far less than many people expect. She’s a business owner and successful because she’s aware of the illusion and power of wealth and the fundamental nature of value. It was heartening and endearing to find that she’d spent that much effort understanding that part of my life rather than simply making assumptions.

Value is rarely the topic at parties, unless bragging rights are involved. There’s less drama involved and drama is theater and theater is storytelling. Value may not produce story, but it can sustain a life.

Frugality had a stigma of cheapness because frugal folk aren’t conspicuous consumers. They aren’t after the shiniest version or the trendiest tastes. They understand their needs and and wants and resources, and act accordingly. So, if a truck looks dirty and dented but runs and isn’t rusted, then its value is high. It is also less likely to be stolen.

Our country is looking dirty and dented. Even the hitch-hikers may avoid us. But under the hood there is a lot of solid value. I think a couple of extra wars and some failed experiments in deregulation syphoned out too much fuel. But the people I know are hard workers and smart. We have one of the best models for government, partly because it was designed to be repaired and improved. We also are a culture that is more likely to welcome new ideas. It is tough right now, looking at the negative swings in our nation’s and personal wealth, but in part, that’s our collective emotional response. Recognize the underlying value and the wealth we evaporated could return as a welcome rain.

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Get A Puppy

Posted on August 31, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Turmoil and anxiety. Chaos and conflict. The last few weeks have seen high highs and low lows. For a while there, most days give me cause for celebration and then commiseration. Yesterday had a bit of both. I made sure I ended the day on the upside by calling a friend who is a cosmically minded confidant to many and fun. She hears the highest and the lowest from her clients. (Reference available upon discreet request.) Her response to the bouncy nature of today’s world was to get a puppy.

She was on the speaker phone because the puppy was acting like a puppy. Things must be chewed and then scattered around the room. Interruptions will happen, but then that’s true of life.

Cosmic confidants, a term I just invented, are those folks that try to read the ways of the world to help people understand where they are within the map of their lives and what’s the weather forecast for the next bit of the journey. People seek confidants of every sort when something is amiss and directions aren’t clear. My friend has clients in every social strata which means she hears the troubles and confusions of rich, poor, mainstream, innovative, young and old. That’s a broad perspective, and one that reaches across lifetimes of stresses. Some days she can’t end the day with a phone call because she has to withdraw and recuperate before the next day.

Our call was a mutual relief. We laugh together and knew that was what each of us needed. A few key troubles were shared to sketch our settings, but we quickly switched to finding things to celebrate. As she put it, “If the world’s coming to end, then I might as well get a puppy.” If we’re in the final act, we might as well exit the play smiling.

Today’s world is overwhelming. It always has been. Back when civilization was largely agrarian, life was a constant struggle. What’s different is that today’s problems are global, can be influenced us, and can be covered in great and immediate detail. Ignoring reality requires astonishing rationalizations and efforts. Embracing every problem that comes along was too much when running a farm, but at least the solutions to the problems benefited the farmer. Now, working on planetary problems might not show results within a generation or a neighborhood. Work doesn’t provide immediate reward.

Meditation can seem ritualistic and the details of poses and exercises can distract from the practice; but at it’s essence, the meditation I practice can be reduced to sitting still and breathing, being aware of the moment and not being consumed by the past or concerned about the future. We humans need something that makes us aware of the moment.

Puppies know no other existence. Babies are the same way (from what I hear.) Watch a puppy and notice that there isn’t a lot of planning going on. Squirrel! (Go watch Pixar’s UP! if you don’t get the joke.)

Over a year ago I was in pain. I won’t belabor you with descriptions of symptoms. Doctors made guesses. I tried lots of different diets. No change. One specialist was head down, taking notes, and in my frustration I rambled and ranted about how unhealthy I felt despite diet, exercise, and lots of earnest effort. At one point I said, “Sometimes I think I’m just worrying myself sick.” His response, without lifting his head or stopping his writing was, “We have a saying. Sometimes if you let the patient talk long enough they’ll tell you what’s really happening.” My pains were happening just after Dream. Invest. Live. went public and the stock market tanked. (By the way, check the comments left by someone who had a really bad day.) The doctor’s guess of a diagnosis was that I was too stressed. I was thinking too much. His official prescription was for a colonoscopy plus another test that I also couldn’t afford even with insurance. His unofficial prescription followed two questions. “Got a girlfriend?” “No.” “Got a dog?” “No.” “You should get one of those.” He didn’t specify which one. He also recommended more wine.

Pets and partners can be great stress relievers, as long as the attraction is mutual and healthy.

I was spending too much time in my head worrying about the future. How was I going to find the money to sustain my life? How awkward would it be writing a book about investing in the stock market when the stock market wasn’t rational?

Ironically, or maybe as a reflection of the way the world works, my pains brought me back to an awareness of the present. There isn’t much future to consider while feeling very mortal.

Today I installed my next photo essay (Twelve Months at Penn Cove) in Raven Rocks Gallery (Opening Friday, September 2, 2011 5PM – 8PM). For the last few weeks I’ve been focussed on the day to the point that I couldn’t attend my dad’s 85th birthday gathering down in California. The recent DNDN plunge didn’t encourage travel either. After the frames were hung and the prices posted, I drove over to the local state park: South Whidbey. There was nothing else on my schedule except lunch and this blog. I sat on a bench on the bluff watching the ships pass and the birds swoop. Nothing dramatic, but something deep and restorative.

Money is valuable, but a puppy’s wag is priceless. And each moment is just as precious.

Twelve Months at Penn Cove

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Learning Yes

Posted on August 27, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Saying yes to myself fills the page with words and my world with opportunities. Saying no stops progress. Saying no is necessary when too much is going on, but saying no out of humility is a luxury. Yes is an affirmation, and sometimes yes is a necessary step that moves someone from a comfortable rut and into an uncertain but hopefully improved situation. I’m learning to say yes.

I hesitated as I started to write this post. It may sound silly or contrived but the sentences in that first paragraph that included the word yes flowed and the sentences that included the word no took longer to write. My original mental sketch of the post changed after writing one paragraph because I was aware of the immediacy of my response. No wonder (and oddly enough there’s a hesitancy again) no wonder some people find themselves stymied as they try to progress by considering each possibility with how it will fail to meet expectations instead of how it will succeed.

Lately I’ve found myself lining up new types of classes. Each is an extension of an existing class or an ongoing energetic conversation. Half of the new classes are the result of someone turning to me and asking, “So, Tom, would you teach that class?“. I’ve said yes. Details to follow, both for this blog, but also within my head.

Modern Self-Publishing – I’ve talked about it before, and each time I teach it something has changed since the last time, even if the previous session was only a month ago. I always handed out class notes: handouts xeroxed and stapled. Blurb.com offered a new type of paperback printing process, so I tested it by converting the handouts into a bound pamphlet. One of the attendees pointed out that their friend in Boston wished she could’ve taken the class, could I send her a copy of the handouts? Well, yes! There’s an online version, for a small nominal fee. Then I quickly went home and clicked the right buttons on the web site to make the book public and profitable.

There’s another yes there. Inspiration followed, and now I’ve expanded it from a pamphlet into a book form by including my narrative beside each slide. (Email me for details. tetrimbath@whidbey.com)

Art & Photo Book Making – A good friend (Joe Menth from Fine Balance Imaging) helped put together my photo essay books, knew about my self-publishing classes, and taking two positives we’ve made another class – Art & Photo Book Making. The first half will be Joe talking about how to make the book: properly formatting the images, collecting the requisite text, working in and around the restriction. I’ll teach the second half, the what to do with your product, by talking from the point of view of a self-publisher: the art and photo book as gift, portable portfolio, or item to sell.

People learned that I knew something about writing, photography, and publishing, so I received an unsolicited request to teach a class that pulled all of those elements together for one group’s special needs.

How to Prepare, Write and Publish a Family History – First an unexpected email, than a phone call, all without knowing the details but always with a cautious yes. When they mentioned they were willing to pay for my time the yes became less cautious and more enthusiastic. I’d actually said yes in my head, even if the arrangements fell through, because they’d inspired new avenues for me to travel. Anyone interested in self-publishing for a writers’ group, travel enthusiasts, business seminars?

Seemingly separately at a meeting of the artists that will be on the Whidbey Island Open Studio Tour, the topic of social media came up. I mentioned my use of blogging, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and now Google+. A few curious heads turned my way and asked if I would teach a class about that.

Social Media for Artists – in negotiations, because I said yes, but I wanted to include a local expert to add to my pragmatic perspective. Russell Sparkman of The Center For New Media will teach half. I’ll teach half. Stay tuned for what that means and when it will happen.

Saying yes at so many junctures has resulted in a fuller and funner life. Saying yes has also become a practice and a habit that makes me more aware of the questions and requests that I overlooked before. Life looks busy and more is approaching.

I know people who deeply understand subjects and skills to the point that they aren’t conscious of their unique ability. To their eyes, everyone should be able to understand how to dance, or how to repair a computer, or how to decorate, or how to listen, or how to laugh. One of my favorites is a friend who understands computers so well that he knows when it is easier to rebuild the hardware instead of tinkering with the software. A blue screen of death on a Friday can result in a rebuilt, updated and upgraded computer by Monday. Why doesn’t everyone do that? Dude. We few of us are as smart as you, particularly in that field.

Acting as if everyone knows as much as you is honorable humility. It places everyone on an equal level without a hint of ego. It also denies gifts to the rest of us. It can be comfortable saying, oh no, no one needs to hear what I have to say. But I’ll return to my most posted Will Rogers paraphrased quote, “You know everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects.” If my ignorance and curiosity matches your skill and expertise enough that I ask for your help don’t be too humble; don’t assume I am merely being polite. Learn to say yes and share your gift, probably for a nominal fee of course.

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What Is The Same

Posted on August 24, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Step away from anything for several years and then step back in. Our world is changing rapidly. That’s not news. In some cases it is even good. I’m an optimist; so, of course I’ll find the good in that. But that doesn’t negate the emotional reaction. Adjusting to something that is not the same is educational and, at some level, a source of stress. Hopefully the stress costs less than the education is worth. In either case, plans and actions must change as well.

My dad turns 85 this week. Happy Birthday Dad! His world and mine have lots of similarities, but the way they play out are completely different. He had to find a new career at 58. I’m submitting resumes at 52. He moved to the West Coast from outside Pittsburgh several years ago. I went through that culture shift a few decades ago. I learned my work ethic from him and my mom. He works every day tending twenty acres. I work every day managing my writing, photography, events, and charitable work. He gets dirtier than me.

Back when I was a new engineer at Boeing, Mom and Dad came out to visit. They were a bit surprised to find that I wasn’t wearing a suit and tie to work. As a pragmatist I didn’t see the need. I worked with computers more than people. The computers didn’t care what I wore, though anything that built up a static charge was considered a bad idea. I took a day off so we could all go on the Boeing tour. Lots of folks want to see buildings that dwarf jumbo jets. While we stood in line outside the gate my mom pointed out the well-dressed men heading in to work. She thought I should dress like them. They looked impressive, but I didn’t work with them. I worked with the next guy that showed up. He was wearing a wide-brim Panama hat, knickers, suspenders, and knee-high argyle socks. He was the computer guru responsible for operating my groups’ “mini” computer (only the size of four refrigerators and three washing machines!) So, Mom, do you want me to dress like the folks I work with? My work environment was not the same as they expected.

The idea of wearing a tie came up again while talking to my dad about my dating life. He remarried after my mom passed away. That’s how he ended up on the West Coast. Ain’t love grand? He probably wore a tie. I’m single and he suggested that I might have more luck if I dressed better, maybe wear a tie. A tie on Whidbey means either you’re not from around here, or you’re delivering bad news, or you’re going to ask someone for money. Maybe it means it’s Sunday, but I wouldn’t count on it. I wear shorts most of the time, and the only odd thing about that is that I wear them throughout the year. For most of the year it isn’t much of a topic of conversation. Welcome to island life where even the billionaires wear shorts.

So here I am, 52, applying for jobs and signing up for eHarmony. My how things have changed.

Thirty years ago, applying for jobs meant reading the paper, asking for an application, typing up resumes using fresh typewriter ribbon and heavy paper, with a nice cover sheet, and mailing everything off in crisply lettered envelopes. Don’t forget to sign with a good pen and a strong signature. Be patient. It would take a while. Today I applied for a job online. It was natural to link to my LinkedIn profile, upload a resume or two, click on some pull-down menus, and hit Send. Oops. I probably forgot to read the Terms and Conditions page. It was probably delivered within seconds, but maybe as long as minutes. I could hear from them anytime, or not at all. They might even read this blog post before calling. (Hello.) The world is not the same. But I like it better this way.

Fresh out of college, dating was tough. I was an engineer in a building of engineers and in 1980 very few engineers were women. My social scene was like that last sentence, lacking punctuation. Dating was a random thing, though as my mother pointed out it would be easier if I put on a tie and went to church. I didn’t do either. Maybe she was right. About ten unmarried years later I finally placed a personal ad in the paper. Other busy professionals were doing it too. The process was less random, but it took weeks. Post an ad, receive weekly bundles of postcard replies or not, mail back responses or not, maybe call, maybe meet. Now, answer a questionnaire, upload some photos and phrases, type in credit card info, and a computer can provide a match within minutes. Almost none of them live on my island, but so it goes. At least the process is efficient. (And yes I am a fan of eHarmony, and No, I am not going into details. But I will say that I am happy with the results – and still single.)

My plans for my life have changed. Retirement, a divorce out of a marriage, my first career, have not worked out as I expected. At an abstract level, I know that life will not turn out according to plan except through either extreme luck or extreme rigidity. The changes catch me by surprise despite that awareness.

Amidst the changes, I strive to maintain some constants within my life. Frugality and adaptability have always been useful. Frugality has allowed flexibility because I am less likely to be constrained by monetary pressures. Even amidst this month’s personal financial upheaval, my frugality has enabled me to readily extend and rearrange my resources. I’ll miss my Dad’s birthday party, but I’ll probably get to visit later this year. Adaptability has made it easier to react to my new situation. My passions are people and ideas, which means I’m part of a community and I’m aware of what’s new. Over the years I’ve kept somewhat apace of technology, so I’ve already established an electronic network of friends via Facebook and Google+, while also reaching out via Twitter and LinkedIn. If I’d retired as a recluse the transition would be too traumatic. Friends and familiarity make life easier.

What’s the same? Personal values and an acceptance of change.

And if I have to wear a tie – well, luckily, wearing a tie is merely a fashion choice. I actually enjoy wearing a suit occasionally. I’ve been told I look good that way. Maybe I’ll be able to work in jeans. Maybe I won’t have to get a job. The market will probably recover. Windfalls happen. Books and photos can sell. Who knows? But something will change and I’ll be ready to adapt while I, essentially, stay the same.

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Sketching Life

Posted on August 20, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

This week we held a board meeting for The New Road Map Foundation, an organization that advocates financial literacy for individuals. Good timing. Have you seen the economy lately? It’s looking sketchy. New Road Map helps people draw the life they want instead of just copying someone else’s. But we don’t all have to do it the same way.

We all agreed this is a prime time for the organization’s goals that I think of as financial literacy, financial integrity, and financial independence for individuals by individuals. (I forget the exact wording.) Every person may not be their own credentialed financial expert, but professional institutional expertise has lost much of its credibility. New Road Map provides resources based around the 9-Step program developed by Joe Dominguez and written and championed by Vicki Robin. The site has study guides, inspirational stories, access to classes, speakers, and the Simple Living Forums, which are possibly the busiest part of the site. The forums are online discussion groups of people at every level of financial knowledge and stability. There’s a lot there. Spreading it around is the hard part.

I’ve been Secretary, prime note taker and agenda collector, for a bit more than two years now, during some of the worst economic crises in memory. I feel sorry for anyone that’s only known investing from 2000 until now. To them it must seem like perpetual drama and trauma. It wasn’t always that way. In the meantime, though, even experienced money managers find themselves avoiding the topic and the news. (Hmm, maybe if I wasn’t Secretary the economy would return to normal.)

Despite the drama, we know there are people who are taking personal responsibility for their finances. We also know that many people don’t know where to start.

Art comes to mind as an analogy as I write. That’s probably because I am blogging from my Saturday station sitting beside my photos amongst the painters, sculptors, and jewelers at the Bailey Saturday Art Market.

Creating art intimidates many. They look at masterpieces and balk at starting because they can’t imagine getting from not even knowing one canvas from another to somehow being able to create stunning imagery. The trick is realizing that every masterpiece was painted by someone who, at one time, knew nothing about paints, pigments, brushes, and easels. Child proteges happen, but I suspect most artists follow a much longer and more strenuous path without knowing how far they’ll go. The important accomplishment was the tendency to continue the journey.

I think everyone has some artist in them. The trick is finding the art that fits the artist. Most of the artists setting up today started slowly and small then worked their way to bigger visions and larger goals. Finding the best way to start may mean taking many first steps into different arts until one is found where the second step leads to the third, the fourth, and on. Whether it is a fad, a trend, or a major movement, sketching has become common. Groups of them gather to sketch, socialize, and amaze the rest of us with many points of view from within one scene.

Sketching groups seem to be more like quilting groups, but without the need for eye strain, pricked fingers, and yards of fabric. I don’t sketch, but I’ve watched sketchers set up with a few pens, maybe some simple watercolors, and a sketch pad. Drinks frequently are included. Maybe that’s an advantage over quilting, a stain doesn’t ruin months of work unless it soaks an entire book.

Understanding personal finance can be intimidating. Few people are taught much more than how to balance a checkbook. Credit cards, mortgages and taxes are part of everyday life and most people sign up out of necessity instead of from deep understanding. Understanding the interplay of income, debt, and taxes is necessarily more complicated. Personal investing can be that much further removed until retirement becomes less abstract, at which time there isn’t as much time for it to work readily and easily.

I think everyone can handle most, and maybe all, of their personal finances. Ideally there are steps that could almost be mechanized if a person started back when they made their first dollar, peso, or euro. Realistically, even though I am a proponent of the 9-Step program and think Step 1 is a good place to start, it can make most sense to start with the piece that presents itself. Find that comfort zone, that easy sketch, and work from there.

I started without knowing it. A grandmother who had quiet investments in stocks and rental houses, frugal parents who didn’t spend more than they made but who weren’t afraid of necessary debt, and a high school bookkeeping class meant that I started my first professional job with the ability to live off one paycheck a month and invest the rest. By the time I read Your Money or Your Life I was mostly on my way to early retirement. Stepping through the 9 steps was more confirmation than illumination. I hire out the tougher parts like taxes.

To those under thirty, congratulations if you are already sketching out your personal finances and your plan. To everyone else, don’t be surprised if your life has already provided a few lessons, some resources, and accomplishments that can provide a prepared canvas, a foundation from which you can draw a personal masterpiece. The most important step to take is the next one, even if it feels a bit sketchy.

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Tough Act

Posted on August 17, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Pardon me as I share a comment from my Facebook wall (friend me).
“Tom, the fact you can be so honest and brave by writing your most personal life story is amazing to me.” What other choice do I have? The comment was tagged to the post, Whirling Dreams, which was about my reaction to the Triple Whammy of dismal performance of my three main stocks (AMSC, DNDN, MVIS). I could act tough and pretend that nothing was wrong and that the investing strategy in my book never falters. I could act totally relaxed and trust completely that the universe will provide. Instead I try, and evidently succeed at some level, to be honest about what happens in my life.
“All the world’s a stage . . . ” – As You Like It, William Shakespeare.
All the world may be a stage but I’ve played a part, worn a facade, in the past and I found that in the end that was a tough act.

For those of you who don’t follow links, the quick synopsis is that with eerie coincidence, my largest asset, DNDN, dropped 60% the same day that the markets began their major league hiccups. A portfolio that was poised to make significant progress towards “enough” turned the other way. My net worth dropped from several years of living expenses to a cause for concern. Most people assumed that my situation degraded because of the general market. Nope. One company missed earnings by 20% and the stock dropped 60%. My resumes began making the rounds (unsubtle plug: skills resume, chronological resume, artist resume). Keep passing those along folks.

I wasn’t a happy camper, unless I was camping (Hollyhock was nice). It is unsettling to be prepared for an uplift and get hit by a downdraft. Friends consoled me with unsolicited phone calls. Talking always makes it easier to get through tough times. Yet, many talked about how long it would take the market to recover. One aspect of my style of investing is that my portfolio’s swings, and therefore some of my emotional swings, are tied to companies and their stocks instead of the market. The advantage is that I don’t have to worry as much about global economics. The disadvantage is that companies small enough to be disconnected from the market typically undergo greater swings. I could act as if the swings didn’t affect me, but they do; and life is harder if I act as if they didn’t.

A couple of weeks have gone by. Psychologists can probably analyze the various emotional stages I’ve passed through. After last week at a think-tank event at Hollyhock, the internal chaos has subsided from hurricane-strength to merely a small-boat advisory. I didn’t want to look at the market, my portfolio, and even downplayed my book if the topic came up. Now though, I’ve poked my turtle head out of the shell and looked around.

The markets aren’t a happy place. To an amateur like me, it looks like storm clouds raging far overhead with occasional downbursts causing flooding and random lightning whose thunder reaches far beyond the strikes. The finance gods are warring and we’re only catching glimpses of the battles. All this because AAA became AA+? I was always happy when I got a single A. Something else must be going on.

My portfolio isn’t a happy place either. Some stocks are recovering, but unless my recovery happens sooner and stronger, or I find sufficient revenue elsewhere, I’ll be tapping into my IRA by the end of the year.

Ironically, when I lost confidence in my book, Dream. Invest. Live., sales happened. That was unexpected. The book was first printed just as the market crashed a few years ago. It was a bad time to finish and try to sell a book on personal investing based on an individual’s stock strategy. Oops.

A sale of my own book brought me back around. What was in there that I could use? How could I learn from myself?

One of the investing mantras I use around fellow stockholders is, “What’s the company worth?” The question usually comes up because a stock price is up or down, or because someone wants to buy or sell. My stocks were down, but what were the companies worth? A quick review convinced me that the companies were doing reasonably well. Each had a bit of bad news, but each bit of bad news was potentially temporary; and I felt that each company had entire potential product lines that weren’t reflected in the financial institution’s stock valuations. Even a reduced valuation was potentially more than enough, possibly, eventually for my portfolio to fund my lifestyle and more. My portfolio of companies was fine. The current value of my stock portfolio was the only problem.

Renewed confidence in myself and the future changed my outlook. Dream jobs exist, and my varied skills and ability to adapt mean I can be enthused about possibilities that range from engineering to art to advocacy to entrepreneurship to fill_in_the_blank. I also realize that smaller jobs, short but deep writing assignments, organizational consulting, facilitation, public speaking, etc. could be fun and satisfying and make a big improvement in my cash flow. Even my current projects in my books, photos, and classes can help significantly. Instead of living in fear I began to live within enthusiasm.

I don’t think I could have made that progress if I’d fallen into an act of toughing it out.

During one of the sessions at Hollyhock I had the opportunity to describe my response to the recent crisis. I made the point that my disruption was disassociated from the market turmoil. I’m sure my point didn’t register with the audience that ranged from struggling artists to major financiers. No matter. The main point I made was that in the process of living a frugal life I’ve had to understand my values, my skills, my needs, my wants, and where help is very handy. Living frugally is a glass-half-full life. To many it looks half-empty, but from within there’s an appreciation for what’s there. Asking those questions is tough. Answering those questions is empowering. Acting is replaced with action, and that can be fun.

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