Friend or Foe?

Thirty-two years at one company, most of my social activities tied to work, a lot of travel for work along with work associates, starting at the bottom and working my way up to Chairman and CEO - these are all contributors to asking yourself what the difference is between a "friend" and an "acquaintance" if you find yourself getting blind-sided by the people you trust.

When you work for a company as long as I have, and you find yourself in a position of caretaker for the people, it is quite difficult to separate work from family. I made a solemn promise when I became COB to protect the shareholder. In this case, the shareholders were also the employees. You can't make a promise like that without caring about what happens with each and every employee and their families. Instead of having one family (your own), you end up feeling like you are responsible for say, 300 families. (That is, unless you're a completely heartless and selfish bastard.)

If you're human, you care. I cared. But when I was betrayed by people I trusted, I found out that there's a big difference between a friend and an acquaintance...

An "acquaintance" is someone you've met, see from time to time (even daily), a business associate in or out of your company, or know through someone else - perhaps even a vendor or a customer. You may even get together from time to time, or attend their family functions, but that does not make you friends.

A friend is unmistakable. He's the person that comes through for you when things go bad. Period.

Anyone can be your "friend" when you're on top. Anyone can be your friend when they want something from you. Anyone can be your friend when they benefit somehow by their association with you. Anyone can be your friend when it's politically correct. Anyone can be your friend when they want to hide something from you (diversion). Anyone can be your friend when they're hurting. Anyone can be your friend when you want something from them that they do not want to give (illusion). Anyone can be your friend when they want something you have (betrayal). Anyone can be your friend when they want something for themselves without necessarily hurting you (suck up).

When you lose your job of 32 years, you find out who your true friends really are. Don't kid yourself if you're in a position of authority in your job. Take an inventory of who you think your true friends really are before it is too late. You can't be good friends with everyone. Narrow your circle of people you can really count on in your mind. And, for goodness sake, make a really good friend or two outside of work. This will save you the pain of losing almost every good friend you ever thought you had in one fell swoop.

On a good note, I was pleasantly surprised to find a few true friends from places I never expected. To them, I say thank you and I love you. They know I would do anything for them. As any true friend would.

Whatever Happened to Grandma's House?

I knew that I would be filling future blogs with stories and tidbits about the profound contribution my Grandmother made to my becoming the person that I am today, so I thought I would give you a glimpse into who she was by posting a reprint of an article that appeared in the local newspaper. It was written by me.

"My daughter told me the other day that she went past Great-Grandma's house and it was ready for demolition. I started to cry.


"My grandmother was the best person I have ever known. I grew up in that house on Lorraine Road in Glen Ellyn. No - I didn't live there, but Grandma Van took my cousins, my siblings and me for the weekend every weekend as far as I can remember. She worked full-time at the Wheaton Court House, worked part-time as the Glen Ellyn Rotary Club bookkeeper, kept active in her church (St. Mark's Episcopal), took care of all of her own needs, took care of her home (including mowing the lawn when women didn't do that), gardened, played the piano, played cards with her girlfriends, and took art classes. And, she took care of her five grandchildren most weekends. What a woman!


"My grandmother was widowed before I was born, so she spent most of her life alone than with a mate or companion. We were her companions - us five kids. Of course I was the oldest so I got the best of Grandma. Everything I have come to value, I've learned from her. Things like values, faith, honesty, integrity, wisdom, compassion, etiquette, and the passion for music and gardening. I'm a grandmother myself now, and if I can pass on only a fraction of what she gave to me, I'd feel as though my grandmother lives on.


"Paulina Van Steenkist passed away in 1990 at the age of 92 in a nursing home in St. Louis. But she lived at 216 Lorraine for her entire adult life. She came to this country from Belgium with my great-grandfather, Polydore Janssens (Paul), when she was just a girl. The house was built in 1915 and they were the first owners. My family has pictures of that home when it was the only home around on a dirt road. Grandma told me stories of how the horses would drink from the water fountain downtown Glen Ellyn when they would go to town. I bet you didn't know that the fountain in the center of town used to water the horses. Paulina married late and lived her entire married life there. Her and my grandfather raised my mother and my aunt in that house. And then she raised me. She lived there until she was about 90 years old.


"About five years ago, I brought someone down Lorraine Road to show him where my parents lived when I was born. It was a tiny home just two houses down from Grandma. The house was gone. I didn't know. In its place was a 'trophy home' that barely fit on the lot. But Grandma's house still stood - modest but proud. Now that could be gone too. I haven't had the strength to drive by to see if they've knocked it down yet. I wonder if they'll keep the beautiful Magnolia tree in the front yard. Probably not.


"Glen Ellyn is a beautiful town and I still love it. But the destruction of the historical homes that were the very fabric of her beginnings is terrible. And I'm sure I'm not the only one saying 'Gee - whatever happened to grandma's house'."

Today, the house is gone and many other things have changed. But I choose to remember it the way it was - a little heaven on earth for a little girl.

The Early Years...Man's Best Friend

...or should I say "a child's" best friend? When in doubt, give the child a dog.

I can't tell you how many times I found solace in the arms of a dog (or my arms wrapped around one), during times of mental pain as a child. I could fill an entire blog on just childhood memories of me and one of my many dogs. But a couple of them rise to the top to make my point.

I can't remember any time during my childhood or my life when I did not have a dog, other than brief times between the loss of one and getting a replacement. My first dog recollection was of a tiny Dachshund named "Leisha". She was a red smooth coat and was left free roaming her whole life (things were different when I was a child). She followed me everywhere when I was home and slept in bed with me and my sister at night. To this day, I do not know how a dog can sleep under the covers at the end of a bed and breathe! But she did. And now, my current dog "Teddy" (full circle back to a "mini-dox"), does the same thing - sleeps at the foot of the bed under the covers with me and my husband. I still ponder how he breathes! 

Another story that comes to mind is a German Shepherd mix we had when I was young named "Misty". Misty was an outside dog (my father never allowed another dog to live inside of our home after Leisha), and she lived on our patio in a dog house on a chain her whole life. When I had my most painful moments, I could find comfort with Misty. I remember when she had puppies once (my father did not believe in spending money on a dog so spaying was not an option). Male dogs that wandered the neighborhood would find Misty's scent when in season, and of course she was on a chain...

This one puppy incident was memorable because she had a record 13 puppies. In fact, I believe it was so noteworthy that it made the local newspapers at the time. It was memorable for me because no one seemed to care when Misty would deliver ("she's a dog - she knows what to do..."). I cared. I spent one night, sleepy and cold, outside with Misty through her entire delivery. I helped her break the sacs open and get the puppies stimulated - she had her paws full. One such sac was quite large and it freaked me out a little as a child. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and hand opened the sac, not knowing what would come out of that sac. Well, to my glee, it was a pair of puppies! I always joked they were "twins" because they came out of the same sac and looked identical in every way. Not being a Vet, I never really knew if that was possible or not. But its not important - to me it happened. I even made sure that one person took both puppies together as to not break up the "pair". I had no idea what I was doing during that birth, but it didn't matter.

It's difficult to measure a child's love for their pet. In my case, my pets did far more for me than I ever did for them. They gave me unconditional love. There are few things more precious than that.

The "80/20" Rule...

You've probably heard of the "80/20" rule. If not, it simply means that if you apply the 80/20 rule to something, you'll probably get it right. Example: 80% of your business probably comes from 20% of your product line. Other examples would be 80% of your sales from 20% of your sales force, etc.

What most people don't realize, is that you can probably apply this to almost anything if you really think it through. For example, if you could do 20 things 80,000 times, you'd probably be better off than if you did 20,000 different things 80 times. You get my drift...

An interesting twist to this is that in theory, incoming CEOs usually replace 80% of the team with their own people, keeping 20% of the current team that worked under the old administration. (No different than in politics; only in that case, it's usually a "clean sweep" approach.)

I made the fatal mistake of keeping 80% of the old team and dismissing 20. Since my record was stellar at management development, I had the silly notion that I could take people who were loyal to the old administration or under-qualified, and either bring them around or groom them to their potential. This was naive, and a monumental waste of time and resource.

I have two pieces of advice for you if you are in management and newly appointed. The first is to make sure that your new team is on board with your vision for the company/task/project/department - whatever. (The obvious is to make sure that everyone on the team is fully qualified to do their job. You'll have time for "grooming" later.)

The second is to evaluate the entire organization based on the 80/20 rule. This will give you a starting point toward success. Identify where you are doing things right, and where the 80/20 rule has proven itself to be true. Then take a look at what is failing and see if applying the 80/20 rule could improve the outcome. (This evaluation could be flawed if you haven't applied my first recommendation.)

Best wishes for a beautiful and prosperous New Year.

Farewell, Sara and Snow...

I woke to a quiet and gray morning last Friday - the day my horses went away. It was a bittersweet day. Although gray, there was a magical light snow falling to lift me up. I knew the outcome of the horses' placement was the best possible scenario; a dream come true under sad circumstances. My Sara went to her horse sitter and trainer who loves her like I do. She'll have a home for life there. Snow went to an old time friend and confidant who will take care of her like I would. I'll be able to see both horses from time to time.


Everything went as planned. We loaded both horses into my friend's trailer. We knew Sara wouldn't go anywhere without Snow. But, they would be soon parted as planned, with Sara off-loading first at her new home down the road from us, and Snow staying in the trailer to head on down to my friend's place.

Sara loaded and off-loaded like a champ. It was like she knew. Snow had been loaded first at our place as planned and she loaded like the sweetheart that she is. Knowing Snow was on the trailer, Sara obliged and followed suit. Of course it helped that the three of the people who loved her most were present and accounted for.


I couldn't go with them to Sara's new home; I said my goodbyes at our farm. My husband followed the trailer behind my friend and got her off-loaded at her new home. When he came back, he said the event had bothered him more than he anticipated. He took a picture of her in her new home. I know he cried.

I heard from my friend later that day about Snow and all things went well for her too. She's settling in with her new friends. I miss her already.

Sometimes life takes a turn you don't anticipate. After having Sara for 20 years, I never expected to have to give her up. She was part of the family. I have her "baby shoes" somewhere...


Now, we'll be able to spend more time up north without worrying about the horses at home (even though they did have the best of care). "Teddy" (our mini-dox),is our "only child" now with the horses gone and we're "empty-nesters" with our children all grown. Of course I had 500 chickens once, but that's a whole 'nother story...

I'm Older Than My Mother...

...was when she died. Today is my mother's birthday. She's long gone now - she died when she was 54 years old. I'm now 56. I think about that now and then. My mother worked at her death but I understand that now. I haven't said much good about her in my blogs, although there were many good things about her. She was shy and quiet and unassuming. She had the prettiest ice blue eyes I've ever seen and she was a beautiful woman. She had a career in nursing, when she could work.

I now know that my mother must have suffered from clinical depression but was never treated. Things were different back then. She cried a lot, sat in the dark waiting for my father to come home (most nights he didn't until the wee hours of the morning), drank too much beer during the day, and I can't recall her ever coming to my rescue when my father came after me. She was also the brunt of his abusive ways. But, she was my mother. I have good things in me that I'm sure I inherited from her. She gave me life.

I hope she's found peace in heaven and realizes that when I speak of her in negative ways, it is reporting the facts as I remember them, but always remembering that she had a debilitating illness that was never properly treated. I recall these experiences as things that happened to me, as an understanding of who I am and where I came from. And, how far I've come.

She was born on Friday the 13th and always joked that the day was "good luck" in her case. She's with her mother and father now and I believe that's the happiest she could have ever been. She's in the most loving and caring of hands now and it's where she belongs.

The Early Years...Straight "A"s!...

...in penmanship! Seriously though, I did get As in penmanship my entire school career. I was, after all, your typical first-born perfectionist. I still am. It's a sickness.

I soon found out in grade school that my parents really didn't care much about what I did in school. Lacking attention at home, I enjoyed the attention I received from my teachers so I performed well...for a while. I did get all As throughout the primary years but then around 4th grade I started to fall off. Two things happened. First, there was some homework. Forget about it. Second, that was about the time I took over almost complete responsibility at home - cleaning, cooking, laundry, ironing, you name it - thus, forget about the homework getting done! I barely made it out of grade school and on to Junior High School. In my day, Jr. High began with 7th grade. My grandson informs me that nowadays, you would be considered a "tween", or as he prefers, "double digits".

I loved art from the very beginning. Even if it was just writing. I remember getting in trouble (when wasn't I?), at home for deciding to arrange my goldfish on my nightstand in a very creative way. (It wasn't a very good outcome for the fish.) Anything I could "arrange", cut (as in hair), color, paint, etc., was. I actually began my 32 year career with my last employer as a Graphic Designer in their in-house graphics and printing dept. For you older folk, remember the first electronic typesetters where you could only see the code on the screen for your work until you printed it out? We were actually code writers and didn't know it. You had to see beyond the code and imagine what something would look like as "bold" or "centered", etc., even though it didn't appear that way on the screen. All you saw was the preceding code and then the word it applied to. Of course you had to "turn off" the code after the word too. I digress.

Of course I only got to walk across the street to school for kindergarten before my parents decided to move a town away, so the rest of the grades in that school meant a very long walk for very short legs. And, there was that walk home and back for lunch time as well. Those were the good ol' days of frostbite and frozen tears. Most lunch times, my mother was still in bed or had just gotten up. My regular for lunch was chocolate ice cream (which was supposed to be only for my mother, but who would know?), in some milk. I watched Bozo Circus until the Grand Prize Game and then I knew it was time to walk back to school. I met Bozo once. I don't think he liked kids...