Road to Nowhere

This Friday night, I have to stand in front of 300 people and speak at a fund raising event. This, alone, is making me extremely nervous. So much so that I have an eye twitch.

To make matters worse, I have to read something that I did not write. It's a heavy-handed bio for which I need to channel Charles Kerault. Or Charlton Heston as Moses parting the Red Sea. I'm more of a light-hearted quipper who is more comfortable one-on-one or with a small group of friends.

Yet, I recognize that this is not about me. It's an honor to have been asked to give this speech.

When I was first hired by Kodak in the late 80s, I didn't speak to anyone for months. Literally. In retrospect, I recognize that I have come a long way from my intense shyness. I used to get physically ill beginning new jobs; now I meet with new clients on a daily basis.

I guess it's all part of my path. I'm just not exactly sure where I'm going. Or why.

I'll gladly accept any and all prayers that I do justice to this piece that was written, I'm sure, with love. I just hope I don't trip myself up over the hokey Hallmark sentimentalism. It's not my strength.

Currier & Ives Gotsta Stop Eatin'

A while back, I went to the Cape with a bunch of friends from college. One friend commented toward the end of the trip that I should become a “snacktress” because my eyes light up and I become animated whenever someone opens a bag of Frito's.

Wouldn’t that be a great job?

I envy the guy who walks around the country asking, “Can you hear me now?” What could be better than receiving a nice, recurring revenue stream from an oft-broadcast commercial? He was on TV constantly for a while but no one would ever recognize his face in LAX. And, even if we did, would we care?

Until my first snacktress job appears, however, I need to back away from the chips. My oldest brother joked over the phone a minute ago that, much akin to the Grinch’s heart growing three sizes, my ass appears to be keeping pace.

What a holiday card that would make.