My Little View

What Happens When....

2011-04-05T22:05:00.000-07:00

Joyful Expression of Self

What happens when there's so much of me that I explode? Feeling as if I could fly.

I reserve these thoughts for my private moments. I'm at my computer, my friend, with my old cat perched atop the machine and....I'm inspired. The life in front of me: what does it hold? I'm joyful: is that a sin? Is it OK to be joyful, even happy? I don't know.

The Eastern European (Polish, Lithuania) Jew background that I call mine is not resplendent with joyful utterances. (Too many root vegetables laced with toxins.)

I'm happy today: some great interactions. A few moments with my friend Miroslav from Ukraine, some other good people, a Mission: I am blessed. I am crazy, I know.

Reflecting on Fatherhood: Twenty One Years

2010-08-17T16:55:00.000-07:00

....On the Course of Events Over Twenty One Years

My little boy is 21 today. So, that means, it was that long ago when I got to become a father, a biological dad. It's been a great time for me that, if I'm lucky, will never end.

The biggest life improvement by becoming a father was the motivation: the idea of improving myself was no longer theoretical. If I was going to avoid hurting and damaging my son, I had to become a better person, a better human.

The will to improve myself was strong. Why? Well, not only did I/do I care for him but there was the issue of "fairness." As I looked at the situation, I encouraged myself, even though I didn't know I was doing it at the time, to evaluate the justice: here was this little person who didn't ask to come into this crazy world and if I didn't alter my behaviors, my world view, he was going to get hurt. More than he should have to.

It's not an uncommon stance for most parents. And, I know I'm not that unusual for having gotten a lot out of the experience of being a parent. Some people get more, some less.

It was an awakening, though. For that, I'm quite grateful. In a spirited and cosmic way: I was opened up...to the love that was this child, this small person "made up...of molecules from the beginning of time." That's one of the things I said after he was born: "...from the beginning of time." What a concept. And he's mine.

George Moskoff, a 54 year old guy who wants to be like the Dalai Lama. www.theapgconsulting.com

2010-08-15T13:42:00.001-07:00

How to engineer a Turnaround from Rosabeth Moss Kanter. Lord knows we could use one...http://bit.ly/co6G87

2010-08-11T14:24:00.001-07:00

An audacious idea for philanthropist, funders: more transparency; accountability, and; authenticity. Is he nuts? http://bit.ly/9yzxu9

2010-08-11T08:50:00.001-07:00

Micro-volunteerism: another source: Aardvark. Here's NPR's take on it. http://n.pr/jP0kY or go to http://vark.com

2010-08-06T06:18:00.001-07:00

Fannie Mae got the contract to use $75B of Federal money to help homeowners avoid losing their homes. http://n.pr/cOnRQB

2010-07-13T12:55:00.001-07:00

Feds rulings shut down financing for Energy Retrofits: bad times made worse. http://bit.ly/9fpLcf

2010-07-12T14:00:00.001-07:00

Local PBS Affiliate Re-Airs Interview http://ping.fm/yScFo

2010-06-28T16:49:00.001-07:00

Upsetting day: in Turlock, Ca. and on way to bike in a preserve, a bike falls off the bike rack on the back of the car. Bummer damage.

How Lucky Can A Guy Get on Father's Day

2010-06-21T08:56:00.000-07:00

What A Lucky Guy Gets For Father's Day

Despite my present circumstances, I consider myself a very lucky guy.

My older son called me on Saturday, one day ahead, and wished me a "Happy Father's Day."

On Sunday morning, I talked to several male friends who are dads themselves and wished them a "Happy Father's Day." I also wrote about the guys at San Quentin -- with whom I

visited on Saturday night -- and the struggle they're all working on to be better dads.

On Sunday, besides having some success with the repairs on my kayak, I managed to pick up my car from "The Car Mart" -- where it sat on dispaly with its "For Sale" signs for the weeknd. The bike trip to pick it up went without incident; on Friday, by contrast, after leaving the car, I managed to challenge gravity and ended up doing an "endo" -- over the hanldebars on to some pavement.

TJ, my 31 year old son (from Patty's first marriage), called me to wish me a good day. We had a nice talk.

Last night, Father's Day, Alexander took me out for Chinese food and we took it to Spring Lake for a picnic where we could see the golden, steep hills and observe some turkey vultures looking for some food. Moo shu pork, orange chicken, pork fried rice: very nice.

George Moskoff, a 55 year old guy who wants to be like the Dalai Lama but has given up on that idea. www.theapgconsulting.com

2010-06-14T19:53:00.001-07:00

I'm mountain biking: stole my son's bike and have been tuning it. Riding some crunchy trails at Annadel. No injuries.http://ping.fm/NPnTZ

2010-06-03T08:08:00.001-07:00

All sorts of people are reporting challenges in describing and agreeing to a new "reality" in the business world; people are clinging....

2010-05-25T10:31:00.001-07:00

I got some recognition! From my Undergraduate School.
http://ping.fm/ujF9V

2010-05-19T20:16:00.001-07:00

a long day that continues; watching "The Visitor" right now as I continue to work.
I have to send pictures from Gallup!

Day 3 Gallup New Mexico: We Get to Know the Begays

2010-05-06T06:08:00.001-07:00

Lorraine, 79 years old, without much English, said she liked the shed we're building to store their personal belongings for the next few weeks. They will be in storage while a remodeling crew from Southwest Indian Foundation (SWIF) renovates their house, adds on a bedroom.

Harvey, her husband, and she, care for three grandchildren. The town of Gallup has only one bar that serves hard liquor. Curious. There are lots of families like this on the Reservation which is why this one was approved for this remodeling job.

I just found out today, Wednesday May 5th, that there is an agency, the Navajo Tribal Utility Authority (NTUA), that provides clean, potable water for residents: 27,000 square miles of land to cover and 250,000 people to serve.

Eight high schoolers and two teachers are working hard to get the house ready. Plenty of demolition to take off old stucco, siding, roofing. New windows, a small bedroom addition.

The students are finding meaning and satisfaction in working to help others.

Today, Thursday, will be our last day of work. Going to treat the kids to the Grand Canyon tomorrow and maybe get home in time for Mother's Day.

2010-05-05T06:18:00.001-07:00

Gallup, NM Day 3: Kids got wise and used sunscreen, hats yesterday. Shed walls up at Begay's house. Windy. Kids found two horse skulls.

2010-05-02T08:23:00.001-07:00

On the road to Gallup to work on Dine land.
http://ping.fm/a8vzI

Day 1: The Trip to Gallup and Back

2010-05-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

Day 1: 666 miles from 95472 to Kingman, Arizona. They don't recycle here. Pity. It doesn't pay, though, with all this land.

I drove most of the time. 11 hours. Ethan drove for a little while but a CHP pulled out and it gave us both an adrenaline rush. Let's say he's ticket challenged and I don't want to see him get any more. (Gotta get him to a track!)

Beautiful vistas here. Lousy coffee at the Super 8. Good thing we all have low expectations of Super 8.

Rest Stops closed yesterday in both California and Arizona: how to save some money.

334 miles today to get to Gallup, NM; no one's up at 8am. Oy. I've already done my "things," some stretching, synced my iPod Touch (which I just got last week and really like thank you....so much cleaner and easier than my Blackberry).

I'm thankful for a good car with good seats: thank you Swedes and Volvo: injured my back two weeks ago and these long times in the car are...challenging. Feel old sometimes.

I'm wondering how much gas we're burning to get to the Navajo Land so that we can help them fix some houses that have been neglected. And, for those who are reading this, this is me being positive and grateful. I am.

George Moskoff, a 55 year old guy who wants to be like the Dalai Lama. www.theapgconsulting.com

2010-04-28T14:13:00.001-07:00

Oy: Finally getting out the invitations for this event in July. Community Building: the way to be.
http://ping.fm/3YsO8

The Quail Don't Know About DST

2010-03-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes...It Takes Me a Minute...

This morning, I was peering over the top of my monitor to the gentle slope above my house. The quail were quietly and peacefully eating the seed I had spread yesterday.

Occasionally irritated by a scrub jay, they would return to their feeding. I looked at the clock: they were late: it was 10:45am. Hmm, what's going on?

Yes, they normally come around 9:30am but...quail don't know about Daylight Savings Time. I had forgotten about the clock change. Bully for them.

I Had a Dream

2010-02-03T08:44:00.001-08:00

Good morning,
    I had a dream this morning before I woke. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with Community Building so I wanted to share it.
    In the dream, I'm an observer of a presentation by a company that reviews high tech products. The Vice President of the tech-review company was making a presentation to one of its clients. (I have no idea what they did but, somehow, I was invited to participate.)
    After some brief remarks standing, the VP sits down in a comfy chair -- obviously one that she has transported there -- and begins "emptying" in traditional CB methods. She talks about a woman who stuck out her tongue in defiance. Then, she proceeds to tell us that she was scared to come here today; she didn't know what to expect and thought she might not be received well.
    She's almost in a reclining position as she's speaking; her feet are on an ottoman. And, all eyes are riveted on her. I hear someone close to me start crying; the cryer has obviously been moved and is touched by what the VP is saying.
    I'm incredulous: I look at the VP speaking and I think "I have to share this with my CB friends....there's a company out there that practices CB methods: authentic communications...and...they make money doing this..."
    I focus back on the situation, leaving the daydream within the dream, and I now hear 20 children -- of all colors and sizes -- singing. Other observers are being moved to tears, too. I peek through a lot of bodies to see the children: they're happy.
    Somehow, I understand that this is what they do: they, even the children, review high-tech products and build community. That's what they do in their company. And, then, they take that "show" to their clients who subscribe to their services.
    I awoke. My cat wanted breakfast and was waiting over me, wanting to get in her early morning "rubs." The image of the children singing is still vivid in my head. I must do something related to community building today.
Thanks for reading.
George

2010-01-19T07:55:00.001-08:00

just upgraded to Pandora One and..I'm glad I did.

Without Inspiration

2010-01-17T19:20:00.001-08:00

In the Absence

What do I write about when there's no inspiration to write?

Some would tell me to "shut up" if I've got nothing to say. But, this situation provides an interesting place to study: where can inspiration be located in the brain? Well, without the cerebellum, that little regulator down below, the question wouldn't matter: I couldn't move my fingers, beat my heart, or run my lungs.

I'm sick and been in bed all day. Napping, watching movies, TV shows on Netflix and...there's almost no way for me to summon up any energy to write about something important. So, this is what I get: the doldrums.

So, is inspiration located somewhere in the pre-frontal cortex, something we share with other organisms? Have you ever seen those videos of ravens curling themselves up and rolling down a hill in the snow? I'd call that inspired.

I've got a movie playing on the other screen: Anthony Hopkins playing an old man who set land speed records on a motorcycle: it's good for distraction. And, my eyes aren't quite working right -- yes, I've cleaned my glasses -- so I've come to not mind that things are fuzzy; must be the sickness or comes along with the doldrums.

So, maybe tomorrow, things will be different. Perhaps, I'll be visited by a little visitor that helps needy people just like me: inspiration.

A Dog, A FedEx Driver and a Missing Road Sign

2009-12-04T12:43:00.001-08:00

It's the day after Thanksgiving and...I needed a walk. A long walk. I had been a "Course Marshall" for Sebastopol's SaveaTurkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day; a 5K run put on by vegan athletes on some level, paved ground. It was fun, and powerful, to be out in my orange vest stopping cars so that runners, walkers (and sloggers: very slow walkers) could pass.

The event provided the needed inspiration for me to get out, exercise and neutralize the internal committee who seemed to relish any holiday as a psychological entry to beat me up.

A new course for me this morning. I could tell when I had gone almost two miles and was ready for my turn (which I didn't know) onto Sexton Road but... I wasn't quite sure: no road sign and...I'm seriously out in the sticks: I could walk for hours and never get home if I took a wrong turn.

I looked at AT&T's fiber vaults -- those beige four foot high boxes that allow connections from fiber to copper -- on the side of the road but couldn't tell from them; they all had "Burnside Road" addresses on them: no help. Someone, behind a fenced area, on a phone but couldn't hear me ask for help: "I'll walk down the road" I told myself. "Damn, not even a 4x4 post laying on the ground...what happened to that sign?" was the question in my head.

But, here, coming up the gentle ridge was a white truck, a FedEx truck: "they're friendly people...and they know the roads." The driver stopped her vehicle and turned off the engine (must be the rules). "How are things on Gold Ridge Road?" she asked. Yes, this was the driver who used to deliver to our previous house, the woman who was so friendly to Henry, our dying thirteen year old golden retriever puppy. (Goldens are puppies all the way.)

Yup, he used to make himself comfortable in her cab and cargo area -- just inside the purple and orange "FedEx" lettering: hiking his haunches up the steps, he'd impose. "I'm just checking things out" was the message he seemed to deliver with some humility (I never understood how he did that). The Alexander Haig of Enos Avenue: "I'm in charge here." I remember that she, Ellen, would smile a lot and, then, be ready with a treat for the canine garbage disposal we loved to call our "Moose." His appetite, sad to say, is down a bit: he's quite selective these days.

Ellen was sad to hear that her buddy was not well. (The picture is from last week; didn't look too bad there for a case of advanced cancer, did he?) She also acknowledged that Henry had the kind of life that only a few dogs get close to: "I could tell by his spirit that he had a good family."

And, now that I've waited so long to publish this piece, Henry has decided it was time to go. Just last night. Goodbye Henry Moskoff.

2009-11-18T14:37:00.001-08:00

Consultants working to help themselves and non-profits: Pictures: http://ping.fm/bnxFm