The Wear and Tear of the Care

I snapped last week.  A minor offense had me in tears – all day.  And I’m not a weepy person.

My friend, who had inadvertently hurt me, apologized over and over, but I couldn’t turn off the fountain.  He finally asked me, somewhat hesitantly, if I had someone to talk to – he knows I’m dealing with my mom and it’s been difficult.

Here’s what I’ve learned – from the heart.  Caring for a dying parent is exhausting, whether it’s long distance or next door.  And when the care extends over years, as it has with my mom, it only gets worse.  Scott tells me it’s called caretaker’s stress, and it’s very real.

I’m no one’s idea of an angel.  I’m hot-tempered and impatient. These are not characteristics that set you up well to deal with a needy elderly parent. And during the two weeks I spent in Cleveland last month, there weren’t enough anxiety-reducing drugs in the world to make it better.

Perhaps the worst part of this ordeal is that you feel guilty. Constantly.  Interrupted with short respites of relief, when you manage to do something kind and appreciated.  My mom can’t get her hearing aids in anymore, so she’s just deaf enough that everything has to be repeated – loudly and slowly.  Her once sharp mind is going, so I found myself constantly correcting – “No, mom, I didn’t have waffles with whipped cream for breakfast….”. We battled over the car, making her very angry because my sister and I are so adamant that she not drive.

And you feel two inches high by the end of the day.  My mom is dying.  She has good days and bad days, but the bad days are starting to outnumber the good ones.  So I’d find myself restless at night, asking myself obvious questions such as, “Why was it necessary to correct her?  Why can’t I be nicer?  Why am I such a bitch?”.

My sister clearly has the harder row to hoe.  She lives in Cleveland, and so is on constant duty.  Joan has had to set some boundaries to protect herself, such as limiting visits.  But that goes only so far.  Because she, too, feels terribly guilty.

We call each other and talk about things that would have unimaginable 10 years ago.  Sometimes we get a laugh, often we don’t.  And too often, we hang up with hearts that are heavier than when the conversation began.

It’s not pretty. And I hope you never have to go through it.

Rescuers Back from Haiti

An inspiring story on a day when I could use one:

Gary Durian & Baxter share the joy of homecoming

We are all grateful and gratified that our Search Teams are safely home after their 14-day deployment to earthquake-stricken Haiti. SDF Founder Wilma Melville attended the homecoming event for the L.A. County teams and shared her thoughts with us:

When my phone rang on the afternoon of January 14, the voice on the other end was excited and filled with urgency: “Our handlers have been activated for deployment to Haiti!”To me, this meant that our Search Teams—who had trained endless hours, for years and years, over countless miles of rubble—would soon be put to the test.

From that very first hour I followed the rescue efforts on the TV news with the rest of America, and we received daily accounts from our handlers via satellite and cell phone. I spoke with many SDF supporters to share the news, and called all the Guardians and Sponsors of the dogs deployed to Haiti to keep them up to date.

Two days into the deployment, my heart must have heard the words before my ears did: “Canines from the Los Angeles County Task Force have located three girls…alive!”Alone at the time, all I could do was march around the room, waving my arms and shouting, “There—I knew they could do it!”

But it wasn’t until the teams’ homecoming late on the night of January 28 that the emotional impact of what these dogs and handlers had accomplished truly found its way into my heart.

It took two buses to carry the 72 members of the Task Force from the L.A. airport to the rendezvous point in Pacoima. Among them were “our guys”—the Canine Search Specialists and their amazing canine partners. Tears welled up in my eyes when the voice on the loudspeaker said, “The buses are ten minutes out.”The crowd of 300 family and friends became more excited, and soon the buses rolled in. Cries of happiness rang out as the blue-uniformed Task Force exited the buses and family members hugged and kissed their returning heroes.

During the speeches that followed, I started thinking back to the tiny beginning of the Search Dog Foundation when my dog Murphy and I came back from our deployment to the Oklahoma City bombing. At that time there were only 15 Canine Search Teams in the U.S.—not nearly enough to adequately respond to disasters. I knew this had to change, and I started working with expert canine trainer Pluis Davern to create more teams for the country by partnering rescued dogs with firefighters. That was in 1995…

As news crews interviewed the handlers, and as families hugged and cried together, I thought: Here we are today, after all the years of hard work. Ten lives have been saved by the combined effort of dogs and humans. Our rescued dogs have become rescuers. Our handlers are true American heroes.

And the nation is better for the work that was done in Haiti. As I write this, the handlers are collecting the knowledge gained from the deployment to share with all of America’s Search Teams. Disaster response will be stronger because the teams were there, because they said “Yes” to years of training and sacrifice. “Yes” to the call to action.

Wilma Melville, Founder
January 28, 2010

Please, if you are able, join me in supporting the Search Dog Foundation. Thanks for considering it.

Denim

I spent the last two weeks in Cleveland, helping out my mom as she continues to recuperate.  Part of any good rehab plan, if you’re blessed with double ‘X’ chromosomes, is to shop.  Chico’s was having a big sale, so we set off to do some serious damage.

I set my mom down in a big changing room and went out to hunt for good stuff.  I came back with armfuls of clothes, and warned her I was going to wear her out trying on outfits.  We did very well, although I could tell my mom is discouraged that her illness makes zippers and buttons impossible to wear.  As I tried on a pair of jeans, she sighed and said how much she missed wearing hers.  I made a mental note, and came back to Los Angeles determined to find a solution.

What is it about denim that makes it so appealing?  I swear the cutest outfit babies can wear are denim overalls (and of course, this particular baby is particularly cute in said outfit as he’s my grandson!).

I remember being in high school (yes, kids, that was 1968) and battling the administration for the right to jeans to school. “Dungarees,” sneered our principal, “are fine for the farm but not for the campus.” Well! How times have changed.

My parents were of the same generation as the principal, and wearing jeans was unheard of for adults.  But over time, attitudes shifted and denim became ubiquitous.  I remember the day I came home to Cleveland for a visit and found my European-born, very conservative father wearing blue jeans.  And beaming with happiness.  He and my mom fell in love with what we all love in denim – the softness after numerous washings, its forgiving nature, and the way you can wear just about anything with it.

As my mom and I went through her closet, hanging up her new clothes and tossing out tired or seldom worn outfits, I came to her faded jeans.  I held them and asked her, “What do you think?”  She cradled them in her arms for a moment and said, nope, not quite ready to give up on them.

I completely understand.  And I hope she’ll be happy when she gets a package next week with a new pair of jeans – these with an elastic waist – that she can love almost as much as her old ones.

Shocking! Controversial! McNealy’s e-Mail!

OK, I was a little irritated that I had to pull down my post that, after all, contained the text that was widely available on CNET and other news outlets.  But good team player that I am – and despite the fact that this blog runs on WordPress, not blogs.sun.com – I did the righteous thing.  I do think some took offense at what I saw as a pretty harmless intro.  But I’ll let you be the judge… Here it is, in unabridged form!

For those of you who didn’t have the privilege of working with Scott, this email will give you a sense of the man. This is a guy who cared more for his company and his employees than he did for himself. Tough as can be, Scott could still surprise you with a little bit of sentimentality. Scott hired me over seven years ago, and when he stepped out of the role of CEO, much of the joy in my job slipped away.

You don’t often get a chance to work for a true leader. I count myself among the lucky few.

Enjoy.

Gang,

When I interviewed many of you for employment at Sun over the years, one commitment often made was that things will change above, below, and around you faster than any place you have ever been. Looks like this was one area we exceeded plan for 28 years. While it was never the primary vision to be acquired by Oracle, it was always an interesting option. And this huge event is upon us now. Let’s all embrace it with all of the enthusiasm and class and talent that we have to offer.

This combination has the potential to put Sun, its people, and its technology at the center of yet another industry and game changing inflection point. The opportunity is well documented and articulated by Larry and the Oracle folks. Not much I can add on this score. This is a very powerful merger. And way better than some of the alternatives we were facing.

So what do I say to all of you now this is happening?

It turns out that one simple message to the large and diverse Sun community is actually quite hard to craft. Even for a big mouth who is always ready with a clever quip. The community includes our resellers and customers, our current and former employees, their friends and families who supported our employees on their mission to change the industry, our investors, our supply and service partners, students and educators, and even our competitors with whom we often collaborated.

But let me try. Though nothing I could write comes close to matching the unbelievably strong and positive emotions I have for you all. See, I never was able to master dispassion. I truly loved starting, running, and living Sun. And the last four years have not been without serious withdrawal. And the EU approval rocked me more than it should have.

So, to be honest, this is not a note this founder wants to write. Sun in my mind should have been the great and surviving consolidator. But I love the market economy and capitalism more than I love my company. And I sure “hope” America regains its love affair with capitalism. And except for the auto industry, financial industry, health care, and some other places (I digress), the invisible hand is doing its thing quite efficiently. So I am more than willing to accept this outcome. And my hat is off to one of the greatest capitalists I have ever met, Larry Ellison. He will do well with the assets that Sun brings to Oracle.

What we did right and wrong at Sun over the years might make for interesting reading. However, I am not a book writer. I am a husband, father of four, and a builder and leader of people who want to make a difference.

But spare me a bit of nostalgia. Not of the mistakes we made, and lord knows I made a ton. But of the things we did right and well.

First and foremost, Sun innovated like crazy. We took it to the limit (see Eagles). And though we did not monetize our inventions as well as we could have, few companies have the track record in R&D that we had over the last 28 years. This made working at Sun really cool. Thanks to all of you inventors and risk takers who changed how we live.

Sun cared about its customers. Even more than we cared about our own company at times. We looked at our customer’s mission as more important than ours. Maybe we should have asked for more revenue in return, but our employees were always ready to help first. I love this about Sun which I guess makes me a good capitalist if not a great capitalist.

Sun did not cheat, lie, or break the rule of law or decency. While we enjoyed breaking the rules of conventional wisdom and archaic business practice and for sure loved to win in the market, we did so with a solid reputation for integrity. Nearly three decades of competing without a notable incident of our folks going off course morally or legally. Not all executives and big companies are bad. Really. There are good companies out there. Special thanks to all of my employees for this. I never had to hide the newspaper in shame from my children.

Sun was a financial success. We paid billions in taxes, salaries, purchases, leases, training, and even lawyers and accountants for devastatingly cumbersome SOX and legal compliance (oops, more classic digression). Long term and smart investors made billions in SUNW. And our customers generated revenue and savings using our equipment in countless ways. Many employees started families, bought homes and put them through school while working at Sun. Our revenues over 28 years exceeded $200B. Few companies make it to the F200. We did. Nice.

Sun employees had way more fun than any other company. By far. From our dress code (“You must!”) to beer busts to our April Fools pranks to SunRise to our quiet enjoyment at night of a long hard well done day of work, no company enjoyed “work” more than Sun. Thanks to all of our employees past and present for making Sun such a blast.

I could go on for a long time reminiscing about the good and great stuff we did at Sun, but just allow me one last one. We shared. Not the greatest attribute for a capitalist. But one I could not change and was not willing to change about Sun while I was in charge. We shared in the success of Sun with our resellers. With our employees through stock options, SunShare, beer busts, and the like (for as long as Congress would allow) and through our efforts to keep as many of them on board for as long as possible during the inevitable down cycles. With our partners through the Java Community Process, through our open source collaborations, and licensing strategies. With our customers through our commitments to low barriers to exit. Sun was never just about us. It was about we. And that may be a bit of the reason we are where we are today.

But I have few regrets (see Sinatra’s “My Way”) and will always look back at Sun and its gang with only pride. Enormous pride. You are the best this industry ever had though few outside of Sun recognized it. And what we are about will live on in Sparc, Solaris, Java, our products, and our spirit. Well past everyone’s recollections of what we did together. I will never forget though.

Oracle is getting a crown jewel of the technology industry. They will do great things with Sun. Do your best to support them and keep the Sun spirit alive and well in the industry. Our children will be better for it.

Thanks for the off the charts support to everyone who ever carried a Sun badge, used our products, or helped our company through the years.

And thanks to my wonderful wife, Susan, who gave this desperado (see Eagles) a chance to choose the Queen of Hearts before it was too late. Someday, hopefully, you will all get to see or meet her and my other life’s works named Maverick, Dakota, Colt and Scout. If you do, perhaps you will understand why I stepped back from the CEO role four years ago. And why I feel like the luckiest guy in the whole world.

My best to all of you, and remember:

Kick butt and have fun!

Scott

Who Me? Go Off Half-Cocked?

I heard from the powers that be that I was a wee bit premature in posting my Scott McNealy blog. So I’ve pulled it down. Look for it in a few more days.

Going to Cleveland. Send Xanax.

I hate it when I question my own writing.  Specifically when I have completed a post entry that I like and then get cold feet.  And that’s why you won’t see the original entry I wrote last night also titled “Going to Cleveland. Send Xanax.”

I admit it – I fell in love with my own title. It seemed to hold so much promise.  I even had the perfect photo from zazzle.com:

But it was not to be. Frankly, my entry couldn’t live up to the title and the photo. Try though I might, I just couldn’t be as funny as I wanted – my anxiety about leaving for Cleveland to take care of my mom for a couple weeks just came bleeding through.

The post also felt mean-spirited to me. Don’t get me wrong – I love being controversial and I don’t mind testing the limits, but I don’t like to be mean. Not my style – or at least that’s my self-image (if that isn’t so, please hold off on “truthing” me until I get through the next little while).

As I look through my blog history over the past three years, there aren’t many draft posts that I chose not to publish. One of them was named “Toad”, and as you might imagine, it definitely did not pass the “nothing mean-spirited” test. Another was about my long marriage – too drippy and sentimental. There were several that seemed to be ramblings without a point, written apparently to amuse myself and not my readers. There were a couple that suffered from over-writing. My writing tends to be best when it’s fresh off my fingertips – too much rewriting dulls my prose and turns me into a scold, I’ve learned.

Ahh, the little surprises tucked away in a blogger’s virtual suitcase.

But you know?  I just loved the title “Going to Cleveland. Send Xanax” too much not to use it.  Although this post is no “Burn On, Big River“, it still feels appropriate for a pre-Midwest trip.  And by the way?  If you do have any Xanax you’d like to contribute to the cause, feel free to send it my way!

Dog Rescue Updates

I confirmed that Ron and Dawson are, in fact, in Haiti, along with many other rescuers, canine and human.

A quick update from the Search Dog Foundation:

At 1:15pm local time, an SDF Search Team in Port-au-Prince located three girls, trapped alive since Tuesday in the rubble of Haiti’s devastating earthquake.

Bill Monahan and his Border Collie, Hunter, were searching a neighborhood near the Presidential Palace, concentrating on a large bowl-shaped area of rubble which was all that remained of a 4-story building.

After criss-crossing the area, Hunter pin-pointed the survivors’ scent under 4 feet of broken concrete and did his “bark alert” to let Bill know where the victims were. Bill spoke with the survivors, then passed them bottles of water tied to the end of a stick. As they reached for the water one of the girls said, “Thank you.” Highly trained rescue crews from California Task Force 2 are now working to extricate the girls from the wreckage and provide first aid.

So much life lost. But three little girls saved.

Courage in Black and White, Redux

As I watch the horror of Haiti’s latest disaster unfold before my eyes, I can’t help but think about Dawson and Ron Wechbacker, the two heroes who routinely fly to the sites of disasters like this to help.  I’m reminded of this because so many journalists have spoken of the desperate need to get search dogs to Haiti as quickly as possible to find survivors.

Dawson is a cadaver dog, so his job will start a little later.  He and his canine colleagues, whether trained for survivors or the deceased, all face the same dangerous circumstances – unstable buildings, fires, sharp objects – and delicately walking through ruins being vulnerable to the next aftershock.  These dogs do their jobs fearlessly, all to please their human companion.  And yes, some do die in the line of duty.

We’re going to be sending several checks this week for relief – the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, Doctors Without Borders – and to the National Search Dog Foundation.  In gratitude for services given with a generosity of spirit to which we should all aspire.

And yes, I absolutely believe that dogs have souls, too.

_______________________________

Courage In Black and White

April 2, 2007

While flying up to San Francisco last week, I had the privilege of sitting next to not one, but two heroes. One, Ron Wechbacker, is an adviser at Morgan Stanley in his day job, and is a rescuer during major disasters in his off time. The other, Dawson, is one of Ron’s two rescue dogs.

Ron and Dawson have worked tirelessly doing rescue work following events including, to name a few, 911, Katrina, and Rita. Dawson is one of those amazing dogs you see out there, clambering over smoking ruins, sniffing and following scents until they find what they are looking for. In Dawson’s case, he’s what’s known as a “cadaver” dog. He’s looking for the fallen. Ron’s other dog, Manny, is a survivor dog, and he is looking for the living who are buried beneath rubble or mud or rocks. Ron told me that in both cases, when the dog finds what he’s looking for, he is trained to stand at that spot and bark until someone comes to investigate. The dog’s reward? His favorite squeaky toy.

Ron and Dawson were on their way up to Sacramento to pay their respects to one of Dawson’s fallen comrades. Rescue work takes its toll on these animals – think about the stress on muscles and joints that climb over the remains of high rises… and the damage to paws from walking on hot materials or broken glass (Dawson doesn’t like to wear rescue booties – it compromises his sense of balance when he’s out there walking across a beam.).

After sitting next to these two guys for an hour, I was humbled, with my faith restored in mankind.

So a few thank yous:

• To Ron, of course, who has given selflessly of his time and his heart to help so many families be reunited in life – or to have the peace of mind of knowing what has happened to their loved ones To the National Disaster Search Dog Foundation, a volunteer organization who makes sure there are trained handlers and dogs ready to go where needed. Check out their website and if you’re wondering where to put some of your charitable dollars, think about them…To The Guide Dogs Of America school in Sylmar, California, a wonderful organization that trains guide dogs for the blind – and who has donated several top quality dogs for rescue efforts. Dawson, a gorgeous boy, was donated by the school to work with Ron. If you want to donate to them, check their website, too. I spent some time there socializing puppies before they go into training and I’m amazed at the work this organization does.
• Heroes come in all colors and all shapes. Who knew? Well, now I do, and so do you.
• United Airlines, who allows rescue dogs to fly in cabin, and get where they need to go. Southwest Airlines, their main competiton in Burbank, does not. I don’t get that at all, and I thank United for its enlightened and humane policy.To Morgan Stanley, who has been so supportive of this kind of volunteer work. And remember, Sunnies, Worldwide Volunteer Week is coming up on April 14 – 22 – this can be your chance to find a cause that fills you with the kind of passion that rescue does for Ron. And finally, of course, to Dawson and the other working dogs who do so much for us and ask so little in return – affection, kindness, food, and companionship.
  

Precarious

One of my best childhood memories was summer break, when I could stretch out on a hammock with a stack of books next to me and just read. I’ve retained that love of reading over the years, and admit that with my Kindle, I’ve never been more hooked. But print or electronic, when I love a book, I reread it. So I find myself re-reading Elizabeth Stout’s book, Olive Kitteridge, at the same time that I’m reading Al Riske’s new book, Precarious, for the first time. What a lovely combination.

Al’s book is a compilation of short stories, and what he shares with Ms. Stout is his ability to tell a good story beautifully. No gimmicks. No flash. Just wonderful storytelling, in all of its understated glory. These are stories that you find yourself in – the highest compliment I can pay an author. You see your own foibles and, if you’re lucky, an occasional glance at your own grace.

Greedy reader that I am, the day Al’s book finally arrived, I canceled all meetings and put chores on the back burner so I could curl up and read. But I found myself putting the book down after just the first story. Why? Because I didn’t want to finish the book too quickly. These are stories I wanted to relish.

So I’ve rationed the book to myself, allowing only one story a day. It gives me something to look forward to, and a reward for being good – or a small piece of self-forgiveness if I haven’t.

Find yourself a comfortable chair, a good light and a cup of tea. Open Al’s book and be transported in the loveliest way possible.

Marrwiage… Is What Brings Us Together…Today

This was one of the greatest lines ever from The Princess Bride, one of the greatest movies ever -

 

But while marriage may bring us together, it certainly does not keep us together, if divorce statistics are any indication.

Several months ago, my son asked me to write about how his father and I have had such a long, happy marriage. Andrew is in his first serious long-term relationship, and was looking for the secrets of wedlock bliss. He commented that his dad and I – at least in his memory – rarely fought, and usually managed to put up a pretty united front.

I undertake this task with the concern that I’m woefully unqualified to comment. After all, Scott might (rightfully) say, “Well, Andrew my boy. The reason you didn’t hear us fight is that your mother has a bad habit of putting on the big freeze when she’s pissed, and refuses to talk at all!” Sigh. True. So true.

I grew up in a family of screamers.  Get mad?  Scream at each other.  Stomp out of the room.  Slam the door behind you.  Jump out of the car at the first stoplight.  Pout.  Yell.  Accuse.  Man, I hated that.  Which is why my preferred fighting mode is passive aggressive: read my lips because I’m steaming.   I’ll ice you out before I yell.

Neither method is going to win any awards for maturity or effectiveness.

But in looking back, although my parents were yellers, they drew the line at:

• Defamation of character
• Bad language (beyond “damn” or “hell”)
• Bringing up old baggage
• Ultimatums

And that kept the fighting, while unpleasant to listen to, at least pretty clean.  Most important, it kept the arguments contained to something you can recover from someday.

I remember as a young bride thinking that if I just said “that” it would be the end of our relationship.  I don’t remember what “that” was – it likely changed from argument to argument.  But you know what I’m talking about – the one nasty comment that is guaranteed to be a deal killer, to be so painful that it cannot be taken back.  I don’t think about that anymore, because I don’t want to hurt the person I love most in this world.   But I would say to my son, if there is something awful that you know is a really hurtful comment – don’t say it.  Just don’t.  Keep it to yourself where it belongs.

Of course, fighting is not a recreational sport – but it is a competitive one.  We do it for a reason – we disagree, we need to work out our differences, we need to stand up for our perspective.  And in any relationship there’s a ton of stuff to work out.  Going from one to two requires compromise and forgiveness.  But in some cases, there’s just no point in having the conversation again.  In my own little dialogue-killing manner, I ended our discussion of one sore point (once again, I don’t remember what it was) by saying,

“Before we waste a lot of energy on this, let me explain how this is going to go.  I’m going to say this, and you’re going to say that.  Then I’ll counter with this, and you’ll counter with that.  Then I’ll say this, and you’ll say ‘Likewise, I’m sure.’ At which point I’ll become infuriated and stop talking.   You’ll be infuriated that I’m freezing you out. So can we just skip the argument?  We’re not going to agree anyway so let’s just leave it alone.” 

And we did.

So if I were to offer advice on growing relationships, it would be to fight fair.  What about you?  What advice would you give? I’d love to hear others chime in on this topic.