I don't read Real Simple magazine. O.K., maybe occasionally if Francie leaves a copy lying around the house and I can’t find anything else… but that’s more of a skim than a read. Anyway, when I mentioned to Christine that I was considering writing this week’s commentary about our cultural obsession with lists, she suggested I check out this month’s Real Simple. A quick skim proved her point. Page 8 has the Simple List. Page 35 asks readers to name the top three things on their lifelong to-do list. Page 67 suggests eight ways to mix this season’s brights (super lemon and vibrant green with a hint of slate gray is the new black in my opinion, but, hey, I’m just a skimmer).
The point is that lists are everywhere. David Letterman has been entertaining viewers for over 25 years with his Top 10 lists. We rank order lists of sports teams, MBA programs and even breakfast tacos. A quick Google search can produce everything from the the Top Ten Worst Products Ever to the Top 15 Offensive Odors (body and foot odor edge out hydrogen sulphide for the top spot in case you’re wondering). Even The Alcalde, the alumni magazine here at the University of Texas, has a popular feature called My List in which alums are encouraged to submit a list of the 10 works that most influenced their lives. It seems we just can’t get enough lists.
My theory is that lists are popular because of our appetite for instant gratification. Unlike my sometimes painfully long commentaries, lists eliminate the fluff and details and get right to the point – just the facts. Lists shape our opinions and influence our decisions. I bet every college-bound high school junior or senior has looked at the latest U.S. News & World Report list of top colleges. How often have you referred to the “best of” issues of the Austin Chronicle or Texas Monthly to pick a restaurant? Travel guides are now full of “must-do” activities for even the most obscure destinations.
The latest entry into the world of lists is the “25 Random Things About You” request that is appearing on nearly everyone’s Facebook page these days. Not that this is new. I recall getting a similar request on email quite a few years ago. The difference with Facebook is the pressure you can now put on friends to reciprocate with personal and sometimes sordid details about their lives that will be visible to a large group of people.
I ignored the initial requests, but must admit I enjoyed reading other people air their dirty laundry and reveal their deepest secrets. O.K., that may be a stretch but I was surprised at how open people were in these lists. I learned new things about people I thought I knew very well. I laughed aloud at some of the inside jokes that I knew only a handful of people would get. I was surprised at how well this exercise allowed people to reflect on what is truly important. I was happy to see that most people don’t take themselves too seriously.
Yesterday, one of my best friends from college described his feelings when he lost his father a few months ago. It was his list, coupled with similar openness from several dear friends, that finally convinced me to reciprocate, so here goes.
1) I sincerely love what I do. I am very fortunate to have found my true calling. Even if I won the lottery, I would probably continue with the TEMBA program. I should have realized that education was my passion a long time ago. My wife, my parents, my in-laws and sister-in-laws are all educators, so the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree.
2) My father was my high school principal. I know, it probably sounds like a nightmare, but it was actually pretty cool. I even worked in his office my junior and senior year. Many of the philosophies and practices I attempt to bring to TEMBA, I learned from him.
3) John F. Kennedy and I shared an office…well, sort of. When I worked in D.C. immediately after undergrad, I shared an office with five other people in the Russell Senate Office Building on Capitol Hill. That same office just happened to be the personal office of JFK when he was in the Senate in the 1950s. I still have a picture of a youthful Jack & Jackie standing almost exactly where my desk would be nearly 35 years later.
4) My most cherished material possession is a baseball glove. When I was six or seven, my dad gave me a left-handed Spalding baseball glove – a Cleon Jones model no less. To this day, it remains the only baseball glove I have ever used. It became even more special when my son Ben started using it a few years ago. He still does.
5) Speaking of baseball, I threw out the first pitch at a Cubs game….o.k., it was the Iowa Cubs versus the Memphis Redbirds, but it was still pretty cool. When I lived in Memphis, I petitioned the state historical commission for a marker to commemorate the site of an old ballpark that had hosted Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and countless other Hall of Famers. It was also the site of one of Elvis Presley’s first live performances. The Memphis Redbirds, the AAA affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals, joined in the effort and asked me to throw out the first pitch on the day the historical marker was unveiled. In case you’re wondering, it was low and outside.
6) And the third thing related to baseball, I was there- about fifteen rows behind the dugout - when the Boston Red Sox broke the 86-year-old Curse of the Bambino by defeating the St. Louis Cardinals in Game 4 of the 2004 World Series. I’ll never forget it.
7) I run 50 to 60 miles per week. I don’t know what I would do without running. It’s my time to think, reflect and explore. If I’m not on the trail, I run random routes across town, rarely running the same route more than once.
8) I was immediately attracted to Francie. It took a few months before I "grew on her" (her words, not mine).
9) I drink way too much coffee. I’m guessing at least 72 ounces a day. Seriously.
10) I love pickles and even drink the juice once the jar is empty. I thought this was rather unique until I saw another friend list the exact same thing a few days ago…though she apparently drinks her pickle juice from a wine glass. I’m not that refined.
11) I have eaten blowfish testicles along with other organs and parts (considered a delicacy in Japan) and bull testicles aka Rocky Mountain Oysters (probably not considered a delicacy anywhere). If a medical study ever suggests that massive amounts of coffee coupled with some pickle juice and animal testicles is the key to long life, then I’m in great shape.
12) Speaking of a long life, I want to live to be 104. I don’t really recall how I settled on that number, but I have publicly stated that to a number of friends and fully expect to get there. I even plan on celebrating my 104th birthday with a night out on the town in Paris. Seriously, I’ve actually thought about that. How’s that for random.
13) I regret not inviting Scott Sills to my 13th birthday party. Scott and I were best friends and neighbors growing up, but drifted apart a little during those adolescent years. Kids this age can be cruel, something I now see first-hand as my kids approach the teenage years. Scott probably doesn’t even remember this snub today, but I know what I did was cruel and wrong. Today, Scott is literally one of the world’s leading experts on infertility and has helped countless couples realize their dreams of parenthood. I am proud to call him my friend.
14) I still miss my dog Benford. I didn’t have pets when I was growing up, so Benford, an ornery dachshund named after a Texas basketball player, was the first. He was appropriately born on our wedding day and survived pancreatitis, a bad back and an attack from an overzealous Great Dane to live to be nearly sixteen years old. We have two dachshunds now, but none will ever replace Benford.
15) I have never been hospitalized. Sure, I’ve been to the emergency room on many occasions, but have never been officially admitted and assigned a room.
16) My son Sam is the bravest person I know. Sam was born with a heart defect – a small hole that we all hoped would close up on its own. It didn’t and in the summer of 2007 he had open-heart surgery to patch the hole. He was well aware of the risks and the process, yet didn’t show any fear and handled everything much better than I probably would have. By the fall, he was playing flag football again and later led his basketball team in scoring.
17) If I had to pick one book that has influenced the way I think it would be The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs. It changed the way I look at neighborhoods and cities and the impact architecture, planning and density can have on a city’s vibrancy and energy.
18) I apparently look a lot like a guy in town named Phil. At least three times in the last few weeks (all while running), I have received a warm wave or smile followed by the standard, “oh, I thought you were someone else.” Maybe Phil would like to help out with some 6th grade homework.
19) My first car was a 1983 light-blue Ford Mustang with t-tops. It made road trips to New York, Key West, New Orleans and almost every university campus in the SEC. I drove it into the ground. In its final months, you would have to start the engine about ten minutes before it would engage into drive and actually move forward.
20) I inadvertently have a collection of snow globes in my office. I say inadvertently because I don’t collect them. In fact, I don’t like knick-knacks at all. I received one featuring the Dallas skyline from the Texas MBA at DFW Class of 2007 (which I was honored to receive) and, next thing you know, they’re all over the place. Let me repeat, I don’t collect snow globes. Tessa, are you listening?
21) I once co-owned a coin-operated laundry. If anyone ever tells you there is such a thing as an “absentee-owner” business, run as fast as you can.
22) I don’t use an alarm clock. I simply look at the clock when I go to bed and decide when I want to get up. I usually awake at that exact time, but never more than 1 or 2 minutes off.
23) When I write my goals down for a particular year, I assign a word that is representative of what I want to accomplish. This year’s word is “push.”
24) I love to write. One of this year’s goals is to complete the outline and write the first few chapters of a novel I have been thinking about for some time now. It’s about a soon-to-be-elected Congressman’s haunting childhood memory of a deliberate hit-and-run and his determination to right this wrong, even if it costs him his political career.
25) O.K., I do occasionally read Real Simple. There, I said it.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
TEMBA Gazette, Running Commentary, January 23, 2009
In a letter to his brother, Vincent Van Gogh once suggested it is “better to scrape off with the knife a part that is wrong, and to begin anew, than to make too many corrections." In other words, quick fixes and band-aid approaches do not a masterpiece make.
Van Gogh created over 900 paintings during his short life and the evolution of his work is evident even to the untrained eye. Just compare The Potato Eaters to any of the various sunflower paintings and you’ll see what I mean – the use of lighter color palates, shorter brushstrokes and other techniques in the latter that are now so distinctively identified with Van Gogh.
Vincent Van Gogh did not paint in a vacuum. He carefully studied Rubens and several Japanese artists. He met and was clearly influenced by Pissarro, Monet, Bernard and especially Gauguin. He worked tirelessly despite his physical and mental limitations. He adapted, changed and refined his technique and style over time.
I ask you for a moment to think of TEMBA and, for that matter, the entire McCombs School of Business as an unfinished work of art. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but bear with me for a minute. Think about what is working well and essentially complete. Think about those things that only need a quick touch-up. And yes, contemplate those things that need to be scraped off with a knife and started anew. You can probably think of examples of each.
Earlier this week, you received emails from both Dean Eric Hirst and me inviting you to participate in the school’s strategic planning process. Both emails contained a link to a short survey that I encourage you to complete. The survey focuses on four key strategic priorities: excellence, distinctiveness, integration and community. Your individual participation is essential to accurately portray what we are now and what we can be in the future.
Together, we can create our own masterpiece. Think of it as our version of Starry Night, only no one loses an ear.
http://www.zoomerang.com/Survey/survey-intro.zgi?p=WEB228MH8UUP4X
Van Gogh created over 900 paintings during his short life and the evolution of his work is evident even to the untrained eye. Just compare The Potato Eaters to any of the various sunflower paintings and you’ll see what I mean – the use of lighter color palates, shorter brushstrokes and other techniques in the latter that are now so distinctively identified with Van Gogh.
Vincent Van Gogh did not paint in a vacuum. He carefully studied Rubens and several Japanese artists. He met and was clearly influenced by Pissarro, Monet, Bernard and especially Gauguin. He worked tirelessly despite his physical and mental limitations. He adapted, changed and refined his technique and style over time.
I ask you for a moment to think of TEMBA and, for that matter, the entire McCombs School of Business as an unfinished work of art. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but bear with me for a minute. Think about what is working well and essentially complete. Think about those things that only need a quick touch-up. And yes, contemplate those things that need to be scraped off with a knife and started anew. You can probably think of examples of each.
Earlier this week, you received emails from both Dean Eric Hirst and me inviting you to participate in the school’s strategic planning process. Both emails contained a link to a short survey that I encourage you to complete. The survey focuses on four key strategic priorities: excellence, distinctiveness, integration and community. Your individual participation is essential to accurately portray what we are now and what we can be in the future.
Together, we can create our own masterpiece. Think of it as our version of Starry Night, only no one loses an ear.
http://www.zoomerang.com/Survey/survey-intro.zgi?p=WEB228MH8UUP4X
Friday, January 16, 2009
TEMBA Gazette, Running Commentary, January 16, 2009
It reads more like a notice on the back of a hotel room door than an amendment to the US Constitution. “The terms of the President and Vice President shall end at noon on the 20th day of January.” Yes, despite the opulence and grandeur of this five-star inn on Pennsylvania Avenue, there’s no provision for a late check-out. Noon, as prescribed by Section 1 of the 20th Amendment, is the firm check-out time – no exceptions. So, next Tuesday at noon EST, the 43rd guest will depart and the 44th will arrive.
I was fortunate enough to work on Capitol Hill and witness this transition of power twenty years ago. Other than the day I met my wife in the Russell Senate Office Building, inauguration day probably ranks as the most memorable during my time in DC (though, now that I think about it, seeing the Cowboys play the Redskins at RFK ranks right up there too). The city was electric. Party affiliation didn't matter. Everyone was caught up in the moment.
I attended the swearing-in ceremony of George H.W. Bush. I saw Ronald Reagan board a helicopter and depart the Capitol grounds for the final time. I watched the parade travel down Pennsylvania Avenue. I went to two inaugural balls and several smaller parties. I heard Stevie Ray Vaughn perform (it was the first and, sadly, only time I saw him play). I even witnessed - and I’m guessing this is the only time in US history - a sitting president being announced, not by the familiar melody of Hail to the Chief, but rather to the trumpet vibrato of Soul Finger. Let me repeat that: Soul Finger - as in the Bar Kays and Stax Records and the Memphis Sound. George H.W. Bush came out to Soul Finger. It was surreal. To this day, that ranks as one of the greatest things I've ever seen. As far as memories go, those are definitely some I will always treasure.
Inauguration festivities, particularly the official balls and parties, seem to get more extravagant every season. Dolley Madison staged the first official ball in 1809 when 400 people paid $4 a pop to celebrate her husband's triumph. From those humble beginnings, minus a few exceptions in times of war or uncertainty, the balls and parties have grown in number, size, exuberance and popularity. It's probably no surprise that President Clinton had the most parties with 14 official balls for his second term, while President-elect Obama is expected to attend 10 next week.
But as far as parties go, there is one infamous shindig in a league of its own. One filled with so much revelry and unruly behavior that the President had to ask Congress for money to repair the things that were damaged and broken. One that is unlikely to ever be rivaled again.
It had been a bitter campaign with allegations of murder, bigamy, adultery and prostitution. It was a campaign in which one candidate was derided as an elitist, a Yankee and, yes, even a pimp. It was a campaign in which the other candidate was assailed as a lowbrow, a murderer and an adulterer. It was the campaign of 1828 that pitted John Quincy Adams against Andrew Jackson. In the end, it was Andy Jackson's image as a champion of the common people that pushed him to victory.
Prior to Jackson, inauguration activities had been reserved primarily for the Washington elite and East Coast landowners - genteel affairs with coffee, biscuits and polite conversation. But Old Hickory wasn't exactly the coffee & biscuit type. Neither were his supporters. An estimated 30,000 people from the South and West converged on Washington to witness the inauguration and, well, have a good time. The scene was probably akin to a modern-day tailgate party minus the RVs.
Following the swearing-in and inaugural address, the newly-elected President was mobbed by supporters and well wishers who followed him back to the White House for a reception. The staff literally rolled out the barrels – barrels of orange punch spiked with rum. The revelers were all too eager to imbibe. In short order, several of the barrels were knocked over, glasses were broken and party scum covered the White House floor.
It got so crowded that in order to leave you had to crawl through the nearest window. After several hours and fearing for the President’s safety, the staff ushered President Jackson out of the building and to a nearby hotel, but that didn't stop the party. Chaos reigned. In frustration, the remaining staff passed ice cream and barrels of liquor out the window in an effort to shift the party to the outside lawn. It worked.
When all was said and done, the White House looked more like a roadhouse after a brawl. Fine china and crystal was shattered and strewn all over the floor. The carpet was sticky and damaged beyond repair. Upholstered furniture was mud-caked and filthy. In a letter to a friend, Washington socialite and writer Margaret Bayard Smith, who was accustomed to the coffee & biscuit crowd, called the party "a rabble, a mob...scrambling, fighting, romping…ladies fainted, men were seen with bloody noses, and such a scene of confusion as is impossible to describe.” Margaret had obviously never been to 6th Street.
Margaret Smith acknowledged something else though. Something beyond her shock and outrage. In concluding her letter, she wrote "it was the People's Day, and the People's President, and the People would rule." In a strange way, what the party represented was democracy – a celebration of government by the people.
Next week's inauguration represents those same principles. There’s something comforting about witnessing a relatively unchanged tradition that has been carried out 56 times since George Washington took the oath of office in 1789. Through wars, conflicts, economic uncertainties, tragedies and other perils, this peaceful transfer of power has survived. It serves to unify the nation. It inspires us to meet the complex challenges facing the world. It validates the principles of democracy – of government by the people. And that’s something worth celebrating - rum punch or not.
I was fortunate enough to work on Capitol Hill and witness this transition of power twenty years ago. Other than the day I met my wife in the Russell Senate Office Building, inauguration day probably ranks as the most memorable during my time in DC (though, now that I think about it, seeing the Cowboys play the Redskins at RFK ranks right up there too). The city was electric. Party affiliation didn't matter. Everyone was caught up in the moment.
I attended the swearing-in ceremony of George H.W. Bush. I saw Ronald Reagan board a helicopter and depart the Capitol grounds for the final time. I watched the parade travel down Pennsylvania Avenue. I went to two inaugural balls and several smaller parties. I heard Stevie Ray Vaughn perform (it was the first and, sadly, only time I saw him play). I even witnessed - and I’m guessing this is the only time in US history - a sitting president being announced, not by the familiar melody of Hail to the Chief, but rather to the trumpet vibrato of Soul Finger. Let me repeat that: Soul Finger - as in the Bar Kays and Stax Records and the Memphis Sound. George H.W. Bush came out to Soul Finger. It was surreal. To this day, that ranks as one of the greatest things I've ever seen. As far as memories go, those are definitely some I will always treasure.
Inauguration festivities, particularly the official balls and parties, seem to get more extravagant every season. Dolley Madison staged the first official ball in 1809 when 400 people paid $4 a pop to celebrate her husband's triumph. From those humble beginnings, minus a few exceptions in times of war or uncertainty, the balls and parties have grown in number, size, exuberance and popularity. It's probably no surprise that President Clinton had the most parties with 14 official balls for his second term, while President-elect Obama is expected to attend 10 next week.
But as far as parties go, there is one infamous shindig in a league of its own. One filled with so much revelry and unruly behavior that the President had to ask Congress for money to repair the things that were damaged and broken. One that is unlikely to ever be rivaled again.
It had been a bitter campaign with allegations of murder, bigamy, adultery and prostitution. It was a campaign in which one candidate was derided as an elitist, a Yankee and, yes, even a pimp. It was a campaign in which the other candidate was assailed as a lowbrow, a murderer and an adulterer. It was the campaign of 1828 that pitted John Quincy Adams against Andrew Jackson. In the end, it was Andy Jackson's image as a champion of the common people that pushed him to victory.
Prior to Jackson, inauguration activities had been reserved primarily for the Washington elite and East Coast landowners - genteel affairs with coffee, biscuits and polite conversation. But Old Hickory wasn't exactly the coffee & biscuit type. Neither were his supporters. An estimated 30,000 people from the South and West converged on Washington to witness the inauguration and, well, have a good time. The scene was probably akin to a modern-day tailgate party minus the RVs.
Following the swearing-in and inaugural address, the newly-elected President was mobbed by supporters and well wishers who followed him back to the White House for a reception. The staff literally rolled out the barrels – barrels of orange punch spiked with rum. The revelers were all too eager to imbibe. In short order, several of the barrels were knocked over, glasses were broken and party scum covered the White House floor.
It got so crowded that in order to leave you had to crawl through the nearest window. After several hours and fearing for the President’s safety, the staff ushered President Jackson out of the building and to a nearby hotel, but that didn't stop the party. Chaos reigned. In frustration, the remaining staff passed ice cream and barrels of liquor out the window in an effort to shift the party to the outside lawn. It worked.
When all was said and done, the White House looked more like a roadhouse after a brawl. Fine china and crystal was shattered and strewn all over the floor. The carpet was sticky and damaged beyond repair. Upholstered furniture was mud-caked and filthy. In a letter to a friend, Washington socialite and writer Margaret Bayard Smith, who was accustomed to the coffee & biscuit crowd, called the party "a rabble, a mob...scrambling, fighting, romping…ladies fainted, men were seen with bloody noses, and such a scene of confusion as is impossible to describe.” Margaret had obviously never been to 6th Street.
Margaret Smith acknowledged something else though. Something beyond her shock and outrage. In concluding her letter, she wrote "it was the People's Day, and the People's President, and the People would rule." In a strange way, what the party represented was democracy – a celebration of government by the people.
Next week's inauguration represents those same principles. There’s something comforting about witnessing a relatively unchanged tradition that has been carried out 56 times since George Washington took the oath of office in 1789. Through wars, conflicts, economic uncertainties, tragedies and other perils, this peaceful transfer of power has survived. It serves to unify the nation. It inspires us to meet the complex challenges facing the world. It validates the principles of democracy – of government by the people. And that’s something worth celebrating - rum punch or not.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
TEMBA Gazette, Running Commentary, January 9, 2009
I knew I had reached unprecedented levels of boredom when I sheepishly reached for Francie’s copy of Us magazine. Wireless access was unavailable, the only gift shop was now closed and I had already equaled my personal best on BrickBreaker. As I reluctantly thumbed through the opening pages of the tabloid, Sam suddenly suggested, “So now I can say I’ve been to Honduras, right?”
This was a logical assumption given that we were at that very moment enduring a painfully long layover in Tegucigalpa, but my response wasn’t as straightforward. “Well, it depends,” I said. Sam looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Perhaps the harrowing descent into one of the world’s most dangerous airports or the complimentary drinks on Copa Air had temporarily clouded my judgment. “Personally,” I continued, “I think you have to get your passport stamped to make it official.”
Sam wasn’t buying it. “But we’ve walked on the ground,” he said, referencing the fact that we departed the plane via airstair instead of skybridge. “Yeah, but you don’t have the credential…the proof,” I argued back.
Sensing Sam’s frustration, Francie chimed in. “It’s more than just the passport though. You have to experience the place - you’re not seeing anything or experiencing the culture at the airport,” she said. “Just getting your passport stamped doesn’t do it unless you leave the airport area and actually experience what the place has to offer.”
The more I thought about her theory, the more I liked it. Travel is more than just checking the box. It’s all about the experience. Sure, we can say we’ve been to Honduras and proudly add the pin to the Places I’ve Visited application on Facebook, but without exploring the Copan ruins or visiting the Mosquito Coast or enjoying the festive atmosphere of La Ceiba, have we really been there? Have we actually experienced Honduras? Of course not.
The same can be said about other things too. In fact, this theory applies to all of life’s worthwhile pursuits, including getting an MBA. When I was in school, Dr. Steve Salbu once asked how many of us were in school simply for the credential – for the piece of paper. Not one hand went skyward. I have a feeling most alums, current students and even prospective students would agree. Pursuing an MBA, or any degree for that matter, is more than just getting a piece of paper. It’s more than just checking a box. It’s the knowledge gained, the skills acquired, the friends made, the confidence amplified, the memories cherished, the dreams realized or – as Francie put it – the experience enjoyed.
The beginning of a new year brings new goals, desires and dreams. We call them resolutions which, by definition, means a firm determination to do something. Maybe it’s a career change. Perhaps it’s further educational pursuits. Possibly it’s running a marathon or finally starting that novel. Whatever the goal, pursue it with passion, purpose and a sincere intent to enjoy the full experience or, to put it back in airport terms, be sure to leave the terminal. That’s the only way to truly say you’ve been there.
This was a logical assumption given that we were at that very moment enduring a painfully long layover in Tegucigalpa, but my response wasn’t as straightforward. “Well, it depends,” I said. Sam looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Perhaps the harrowing descent into one of the world’s most dangerous airports or the complimentary drinks on Copa Air had temporarily clouded my judgment. “Personally,” I continued, “I think you have to get your passport stamped to make it official.”
Sam wasn’t buying it. “But we’ve walked on the ground,” he said, referencing the fact that we departed the plane via airstair instead of skybridge. “Yeah, but you don’t have the credential…the proof,” I argued back.
Sensing Sam’s frustration, Francie chimed in. “It’s more than just the passport though. You have to experience the place - you’re not seeing anything or experiencing the culture at the airport,” she said. “Just getting your passport stamped doesn’t do it unless you leave the airport area and actually experience what the place has to offer.”
The more I thought about her theory, the more I liked it. Travel is more than just checking the box. It’s all about the experience. Sure, we can say we’ve been to Honduras and proudly add the pin to the Places I’ve Visited application on Facebook, but without exploring the Copan ruins or visiting the Mosquito Coast or enjoying the festive atmosphere of La Ceiba, have we really been there? Have we actually experienced Honduras? Of course not.
The same can be said about other things too. In fact, this theory applies to all of life’s worthwhile pursuits, including getting an MBA. When I was in school, Dr. Steve Salbu once asked how many of us were in school simply for the credential – for the piece of paper. Not one hand went skyward. I have a feeling most alums, current students and even prospective students would agree. Pursuing an MBA, or any degree for that matter, is more than just getting a piece of paper. It’s more than just checking a box. It’s the knowledge gained, the skills acquired, the friends made, the confidence amplified, the memories cherished, the dreams realized or – as Francie put it – the experience enjoyed.
The beginning of a new year brings new goals, desires and dreams. We call them resolutions which, by definition, means a firm determination to do something. Maybe it’s a career change. Perhaps it’s further educational pursuits. Possibly it’s running a marathon or finally starting that novel. Whatever the goal, pursue it with passion, purpose and a sincere intent to enjoy the full experience or, to put it back in airport terms, be sure to leave the terminal. That’s the only way to truly say you’ve been there.
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