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Leaving your comfort zone

I often joke with my partner and friends that I can’t leave my comfort zone because I don’t have one. In other words, as Charlie Brown once said: “My anxieties have anxieties.” All kidding aside, I do believe that it’s important for our development as human beings to break out of the boundaries of our typical lives, and try something new and exciting, and perhaps scary. (Maybe this is my Halloween post after all.)

Recently I was invited to deliver the closing keynote speech at a conference. I’m accustomed to conducting seminars, Webinars, workshops and various presentations, but a “keynote” was not in my repertoire until now. I guess you could say it was out of my comfort zone. Because I didn’t consider myself keynote material, my first instinct was to decline. In fact, I had a conflict on the date in question. But then, as if by magic, the conflict disappeared, and I had no good reason to say no. And there was a strong reason to say yes: A person I respect – and consider a star in the communications firmament – had recommended me for this speaking engagement. So saying no would have disappointed both him and the conference organizers. At the same time, my partner, bless his generous and brilliant soul, was encouraging me to “go for it” so that I could stretch myself.

Now that the speaking assignment is behind me, I’m glad I did it, for many reasons. But the main one is that I feel gratified to have pushed myself beyond my usual self-imposed limits.

It’s funny. In my personal life, I’ve indeed done an “exit, stage left” from my comfort zone. Those occasions were a little too personal for this forum, so you’ll have to imagine what I mean. Professionally, I stretched my wings when I broke into podcasting, social media and then conference podcasting. You know what? It feels good. These challenges energize me.

What about you? Have you left your comfort zone recently?

Talk to your baby

This post is outside the realm of my usual topics, but not really. First, some background: Last week while out walking I noticed several moms pushing strollers while staring down at their iPhones or BlackBerrys, madly texting. Their babies were wide awake, but the moms were engaged with someone else. As a parent and as a human, this worries me.

When my daughters were babies I talked to them all the time, especially when I was the only adult in the house, and well before they were verbal themselves. “Let’s have some oatmeal ... OK, it’s time to put on these blue socks … Which foot first? Left? Right? ... Honey, we’re going for a walk. Where’s your pink snowsuit and your mitts?” This is not Pulitzer material, but it’s communication that helped my children to learn to speak, to listen, to learn, and to feel cherished and loved.

This week in the New York Times, health columnist Jane Brody tackled this very topic. Her article begins:

I recently stopped to congratulate a young mother pushing her toddler in a stroller. The woman had been talking to her barely verbal daughter all the way up the block, pointing out things they had passed, asking questions like “What color are those flowers?” and talking about what they would do when they got to the park.

This is a rare occurrence in my Brooklyn neighborhood, I told her. All too often, the mothers and nannies I see are tuned in to their cell phones, BlackBerrys and iPods, not their young children.

Brody goes on to quote Randi Jacoby, a speech and language specialist in New York, who says: “Parents have stopped having good communications with their young children, causing them to lose out on the eye contact, facial expression and overall feedback that is essential for early communication development.”

If you’re a parent, please think about this. You’ll have plenty of time to play with your iPhone when the kids go off to college!

You can read Jane Brody's piece here.


P.S. Actually, two of my most-read blog posts are about communicating with children:  Talking to teens and How teens communicate.

Madly loving Oakville

I consider myself fortunate to live and work in Oakville, Ontario. We enjoy the benefits of a smallish town, along with proximity to big-city Toronto and the international airport. My location near the downtown part of Oakville allows me to grab a bite at dozens of restaurants, shop for clothing and food, amble along the lake shore, and drink numerous cups of coffee, should I desire. Another bonus: being able to walk to such events as Midnight Madness and the Oakville Jazz Festival (August 7 – 9 this year).

Would you like an online visit to Oakville? Here is a three-minute video from this year’s Midnight Madness (music, food, shopping and more). At the end you’ll hear a fabulous a cappella group called Fine Grind. The second video is more of Fine Grind. In my humble opinion, their performance was the best part of the night. My video doesn’t do them justice.

You can see more of our town in this video, shot on Canada Day, July 1.

A Canadian primer for our American friends

This is an update of a post I first wrote in 2007.

As an American-Canadian, I always find the first week of July somewhat jarring. Up here we celebrate Canada Day, while down south, the big holiday is Independence Day (which also happens to be my little brother’s birthday). My relatives wish me a “Happy Fourth of July,” even though it’s just a regular Saturday here this year.

Since crossing the border from New York to Ontario 20+ years ago with all my worldly goods, I’ve adjusted to my new home, and can even "pass" for a Canadian, despite my slight but lingering Noo Yawk accent. With all those years of "Canadian experience" under my Roots belt, I’m happy to share some tips with my American compatriots who may not be aware of what life is like north of the 49th parallel.

1. In Toronto, winter arrives in late October and doesn’t depart until April … or May. For the first time in your life, you’ll buy long underwear, mittens and a toque (a practical, yet decidedly unattractive knitted cap). And you will wear them. Gladly.
2. You can count the number of years of Canadian residency by the salt rings on your boots (unless you live in Vancouver, where the people wear Birkenstock sandals all year, apparently).
3. Don’t worry about foregoing the American television networks you have come to love; you can watch most of your favourite (not favorite) programs here except those on Fox News, and you won’t really miss them anyway, eh?
4. Thanks to universal health care, you can say goodbye to HMOs, co-payments and deductibles, but you may have to wait in a queue, I mean, a line, no matter how high the balance in your bank account.
5. A check is a cheque, a two-dollar coin is a toonie, milk is sold in plastic bags (in Ontario anyway), and you boil water in an electric kettle from The Bay or Canadian Tire.
6. Starbucks is ubiquitous in large cities, but every block seems to sport a Tim Hortons, where the drink of choice is a double-double.*
7. The geography stretches not from sea to shining sea, but from coast to coast to coast.
8. There’s no death penalty here. And it’s a mosaic, not a melting pot.
9. You’ll soon understand this sentence: "Gord, please pass me a serviette; I’ve spilled some poutine on the chesterfield."**
10. And, last but not least, you’ll finally have to learn the metric system.

*A double-double is a coffee with two creams and two sugars.
**Translation: Gordon, please pass me a napkin. I’ve spilled some gravy-and-cheese-curd-covered French fries on the couch.

Oh, my aching eyes

Eye remember the daze wen noose papers employed copy editors an proofreaders. You could pik up a major daily and knot have two contend with a hole palate of stiles of spelling and usage, running the gambit from hear to they’re. Editors could reign in they’re teems, and the pubic could reed the news in piece.

OK, you get my point. Honestly, as a parent, I worry about what our kids are seeing in the press – the ones who are reading mainstream media at all. Formerly glorious newspapers are riddled with errors not unlike the ones in the above paragraph. Do you notice this too, or am I just cranky these days?

What I learned from Andy

While I shoveled the first genuine snowfall of the season, I caught sight of a man on a blue bicycle – not something you spot all the time in Oakville in December. We both nodded hello and then he said, “How are you doin’ there, m’am?” “Oh, fine,” I answered, “the snow’s not too heavy.”

He then hopped off his bike and explained how he’d been busy shoveling driveways in the neighbourhood. I studied his weathered face as he told me that Southern Ontario snow was no challenge for a Newfoundler like him (although he used the term Newfie, with a laugh). Hmmm. “Are you looking for more shoveling work?” I asked. “Oh, yes, m’am.” In a flash, my new friend took the shovel off my hands and got to work.

And work he did. He cleanly cleared the circular part of the driveway and the sections at the end, near the road, where the town plow had dumped frozen boulders.

Every snow day since that time in early December, Andy has been back, happily clearing my drive, and those of my neighbours too.  Along the way, he has taught me a few things:

Word-of-mouth is the best generator of new business. Since he first cycled by my house, Andy has gained at least five of my neighbours as customers. All hired him eagerly after seeing his fast, neat work.
Assume the sale. Each time the snow falls, Andy shows up. He assumes I want him to clear the driveway. I imagine this grizzled Newfoundler knows a thing or two about marketing, although he’d never call it that.
Be grateful. A few times this month I was feeling sorry for myself, juggling deadlines and trying to cram Christmas shopping and baking into an impossible schedule. Then I thought of Andy, who would never ever complain about “too much” work to do. And he’s outside, digging through icy mounds of snow in biting winds, while my labours involve nothing more strenuous than splicing sentences or storyboarding videos in a warm office. When Andy finishes the job, he knocks on the door and humbly shows me his handiwork. When I pay him, he says thank you, and his face lights up as though I’ve given him a wonderful gift. Yet he has bestowed one on me, freeing me from an onerous chore that has irked me ever since I became a solo homeowner.

May your New Year be filled with gratitude and new friends.

I said, “LET’S HAVE A NICE QUIET DINNER!”

On a recent Friday night, after a hectic week, my partner and I decided to eat out so that we could unwind, reconnect and just share each other’s company (and not cook!). Well, forget about quiet conversation. Three minutes into the evening, we realized that we could not converse at all because the restaurant was so noisy – the 1980s soundtrack, the din of conversation, the plates banging. To communicate at all, we had to shout at each other, which sort of ruined the idea of an evening out. We chalked it up to the nature of the restaurant –  a casual spot filled with 20-somethings and families. And we joked about inventing a headset/mic combo just for diners that would allow people to communicate at the table while blocking out everything else. (That’s what happens when two geeks go out.)

Several weeks later, at our favourite fine-dining restaurant in Oakville, we were fortunate to be tucked into a little table in the corner. Not too far away (it’s a small place), in the centre of the room, three couples held court at a round table. Two of the men were so boisterous that I was almost tempted to ask them to keep it down. (Giving them the evil eye didn’t seem to help). Compounding the problem, everyone else in the restaurant had to crank up the volume on their own conversations so as to talk over Big Mouth and Friend.

My partner and I wondered: Is it just us, or do other people think restaurants are too damned loud? An article in today’s Globe and Mail addresses this very point, going so far as to measure the decibel level in dining establishments in several Canadian cities.

Have you noticed this, too? Do you find restaurants are no longer cozy places to enjoy a quiet meal? With all the dollars spent on  fancy renovations, doesn’t anyone think about acoustics?

Help for Crackberry addicts

The recent Blackberry outage put countless users on edge. Yikes, they were unable to thumb through their email for, like, hours! As a communicator, I like this comical video, “A Cure for Blackberry Addiction,” on MyRaganTV (despite the error on the title screen– “effects” instead of “affects”) because it reflects a sad reality: our inability to unplug.

How to put your priorities straight in three easy steps

1. Spend the weekend with friends you’ve known for almost your whole life.
2. Scare yourself silly by traveling in a Beechcraft prop plane to get there.
3. Reflect on how fortunate you are to be alive.

Heidi's cure for Social Media Stupor Syndrome

What a great post by Heidi Miller, who says: "I've had a terrible case of Social Media Stupor Syndrome, with underlying Microblogging Paralysis. And it's not just me--it's an epidemic..."

Check out Heidi's post to discover the cure.

I hear you, Heidi. To me, there's nothing better this summer than stepping away from the keyboard and getting my hands dirty in the garden, or spending the whole day with a REAL person, not a virtual one!