On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston continues to be interested in the research he's doing on retirement trends. He's discovered something called a Men's Shed which is different from a Man Cave where men can go and stand next to each other. 

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My work continues to lead me into retirement research. Specifically, how to make retirement fruitful and productive. One of the leading causes of an unhappy retirements is too few friends or no friends at all. Referred to as social isolation, the US Surgeon General said that social isolation is as unhealthy as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. I find it interesting that being alone is as unhealthy as repeatedly inhaling smoke into your lungs. They seem dramatically different to me. Oddly, there are times I need social isolation to stay healthy or at least to stay sane. I guess too much isolation is the issue.

This research on retirement led me to something call Men's Sheds. Not Man Caves, which are for a man and maybe his buddies to drink and watch sports in spaces painted in testosterone. This is a Men's Shed. I first heard about them in Australia and now they've grown to Canada. They're destinations for retired men to gather and do something together – more than watch sports and drink. They're places that retired men gather to work on things with their hands. It seems a lot of them involve wood working and fixing things made from wood. One retired person has the tools and knows how to use them and opens up his shed for everyone to come and mess around with the woodworking or hang out while other people are messing around. Men around the community join them and they gather in the Men Shed regularly to build and fix things. It gives them purpose and camaraderie, which, if I read all this correctly, men seem be on the search for more so than women. It doesn't say why.

Furthermore, and this interested me, is that men develop friendships shoulder to shoulder. They watch things together next to one another or do things together next to one another, and friendships develop. And I think about the number of fathers I've come to know over the years as we stand together facing the ball field or the volleyball court watching our kids play. We had great friendships, and I only got to know them and come to like them when we stood side by side. I think that's kinda interesting.

Last thing and I'll get off this topic - is the many fewer places for men to gather. Having a 'men only' space is taboo today. In fact, many things 'men only' is taboo today. I mentioned to a friend in Oregon that I'm a member of a male-only Mardi Gras organization. He wondered what kind of misogynistic world I live in down here in south Alabama. He wondered how civilization has passed us by. How could I possibly be a member of such a thing? I let it go. But later in the same conversation he quietly admitted he had no real friends where he lives. He has to travel to see his friends. I felt for him. So I sent him a picture of me and my buddy standing side by side on a Mardi Gras float wearing big grins and throwing beads with the note: "Sure looks like hell, doesn't it?"

I'm Cam Marston, Just trying to Keep it Real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston and his buddies are beginning to discuss retirement. Cam's learning, though, that maybe working so hard to get to retirement may not be worth all the effort. 

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The subject of retirement has come with my crowd lately. A few years ago, we maybe whispered about retirement, but now it's a full-on conversation – when are you going to retire, we're asking each other. How will you know it's time? The answer from nearly everyone is "as soon as possible" and "I'm ready right now."

Last week I had breakfast with a lady in healthcare who leads education for medical doctors for a very progressive organization out west. We talked shop for a bit. She had lots of ambitions plans for her organization. She sounded like someone fully engaged and stimulated by their work. My guess is she's about my age and I asked if she ever thought about retirement. In a rush she said "Oh goodness yes. I can't wait." "When do you want to retire?" I asked. "As soon as I can," she said. "But it sounds like you enjoy your work." I was confused. "I do," she said, "but I'm ready to not have to do it anymore." She enjoyed it but doesn't want to have to do it.

Similarly, I've heard more references to burnout recently than I've ever heard. A friend in Mississippi said his wife could tell he was burned so badly that she needed him to either take a year off or buy a new boat. Now that's a supportive spouse! He was lucky to have her and he knew it. I'm hearing burnout references in my calls and with other friends and colleagues, too. Seems like Covid ramped up burnout – before then I seldom heard it. Since then, I hear it more, especially recently. Social Scientist and author Arthur Brooks defined burnout as a "vortex of exhaustion, cynicism, and self-criticism." Wow. But, yep! They all feed each other. The things that used to make you happy about your work now make you unhappy. And, for what it's worth, I read a study that Gen X'ers were experiencing burnout at higher rates than not only any generation today, but any generation every surveyed. I guess that's something to brag about – my generation has broken the unhappiness bell curve.

Burned out and aching for retirement. No employer wants that guy on their team. Then I read that over forty percent of retirees have an unsatisfactory retirement. Retirement's not all it's cracked up to be, they say. Without work, they have no friends and no purpose. The "retirement red zone" is an expression financial professionals use to refer to the five years before and after retirement when you're supposed to get your financial world in order. Turns out this red zone also refers to getting your non-financial retirement world in order, too – making friends outside of work, developing curiosity to drive your hobbies, especially hobbies that include meeting new people. Learning to structure your day when no one else is telling you how to do it. And then, of course, healthy activity. No retirement is enjoyable if you let your health go.

It all makes me wonder, as I feverishly work towards my own retirement, if the emotional and psychological price I'm paying to get there will be worth it?

I'm Cam Marston, just trying to keep it real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam's on his way home from a conference. He began making notes a few days ago about what his years and years of attending conferences has taught him. A bingo card might be fun, he says. 

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I speak at few dozen conferences each year. My audiences are the same – thinning brown haired, slightly overweight, middle aged white guys dominate each room. These are my people. I've learned how they like my content delivered and I do it for them each time. If I do it well, it may get me invited back. After twenty plus years, I've seen hundreds of events, and  I've identified some meeting and convention themes that have become entirely predictable and that resonate with my people.

First – Classic rock music. It will be played as people file in on day one, during every break, and after the final keynote. It will be vanilla classic rock. Nothing too loud, nothing too rebellious. You will certainly hear "Right Now" by Van Halen at least once and see the thinning haired men mouthing "Right Now" along with Sammy Hagar, thinking they're invisible. Maybe a flash of air guitar on their thigh. You'll also hear "Can't Stop the Feeling," "Uptown Funk," and "Happy." "I Got A Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas will close out day one. Count on it.

Second – At least one keynoter will deliver a lesson reminding us that children are born full of curiosity only to have adults and formal schooling beat it out of them. "Why do we do this to children?" they'll always ask. "Why can't we grow kid's curiosity instead of take it away?" My people will nod. This content shows up at least once in every conference, guaranteed.

Third – Multiple speakers will give examples of how Apple Computer does things differently. Of how Apple sees the world differently. On how Apple's competitors didn't see the iPhone coming but the evidence was everywhere. Lots and lots of references to Apple and Apple products. The speaker will extrapolate some sort of grand lesson from Apple. Count on it.

Fourth – 80% of presentations will use the word "disruption." It's become the meeting and convention word of the century. Someone will tell of Blockbuster being disrupted by Netflix with PowerPoint slides showing the Blockbuster logo. Of Kodak being disrupted by digital cameras, with a slide showing Kodak film next to an iPhone. Count on this, too.

Last – there will at least one mention of Warren Buffett and his investing philosophy and how his philosophy applies to much more than investing.  None of my people would dare contradict a Buffett pearl of wisdom. Speakers know quoting Buffett will get lots of thinning brown-haired heads nodding. It's unimpeachable content.

I've daydreamed of making a Meeting and Convention Bingo cards with squares filled with song titles, predictable Apple stories, predictable disruption stories, and the center square being "How is everyone today? I didn't hear you! HOW IS EVERYONE TODAY?" I'd pass them out at one of my conferences. They'd get some laughs. And I'd never ever ever ever be invited back.

I'm Cam Marston, just trying to keep it real.

On this week's Keepin' It Real, Cam admits he feels helpless in today's political climate but he's found something he can do. It's very small, but at least it's something. 

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I have quite a few friends who, over the years, have tried to persuade me to get out of the stock market due to some crisis or another. "Pull all your money out," they say, "this time it's not some run of the mill crisis. This one's real. It's different this time."

It's different this time. We are so often tempted to think that whatever the crisis, this one is different. Rarely, very rarely is it different.

For the past few weeks, I've been introduced to political leaders across the state and beyond by a friend who thinks things need to change. He's heard me say on this commentary and in our numerous conversations that I feel our political world today is in dire shape. I've wondered aloud on this commentary and in his and my conversations what my obligation to this situation might be. Do I have an obligation to try to change things for no other reason that I'm worried, sometimes panicked, and more than disgusted by what I see and the way people are treating one another. What should I do, if anything? What do I owe this crisis?

I've also heard myself saying what countless others out there are saying – that this is wrong and someone should do something. What's wrong? The methods and tactics of today's political leaders are wrong. The political violence is wrong. The absence of action from those elected to serve in Washington is wrong. The unchecked ransacking of government employees by a private citizen is wrong. The cult-like worship by many Republicans of our president is wrong. The blatant profiteering of the Oval Office is wrong. The list goes on. I've said it repeatedly: "Someone should do something."

There are no levers I can pull that truly matter. There are no levers I can pull that will fix this or even slow it down. But the helpless feeling I've had has been eased in the past few weeks as I've spoken to political influencers about our political environment today. They've all agreed with a cry we've heard for years and that's this – if there ever were a time for a third political party to be born and take action, now is that time. The Democrats, God love them, have strayed way too far left for me. I can't, without completely betraying my beliefs, adopt their platform. However, Republicans look and sound nothing like the party that had my heart years ago. I can find no semblance of what I used to know and love in that party.

So, I've begun talking to people who share my belief that a third party is acutely needed today. I am collecting their interviews to play on my podcast which, heretofore, has been called What's Working and had a business focus. Now it's focus will be what will it take to create a viable third party to represent people like me who have no voice in Washington and have a deep desire for change.

Someone should do something. And, in a very small way, I've found something I can do. Because, I truly believe, it is different this time.

I'm Cam Marston and I'm just trying to Keep it Real.

On this week's Keepin' It Real, Cam's visit to a hotel on the Gulf this wekend got Cam to thinking about how some people, well, they just don't get it...

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Tuesday I checked into a hotel in Gulf Shores at the Gulf State Lodge. "Where is the free parking?" I asked. "We don't have any. You can pay to park or pay a little extra and I'll park it." This is the bell staff at the front door. I handed him my car key. "Where is a luggage cart? I have a bunch of stuff to get to my room for my workshop tomorrow." "Guests aren't allowed to use luggage carts. Only bell staff." "So for me to take my stuff to my room I'd need to take multiple trips?" I asked. "Yes. But you can't leave your stuff here." "So the only way to comply is to ask you to assist me to my room." "Something like that. We only allow bell staff to move luggage. Guests can't move their own luggage." I'm not liking this. Southern hotels confuse politeness with hospitality. He was very polite. He was not hospitable. What this hotel is thinking is customer service is to me nothing but angling for tips and making my trip more expensive. I'm not happy but trying to not let it get to me. My wife has me writing a gratitude journal because, apparently I'm good at noticing when things conspire against me.

The bellman walked my luggage and me to my hotel room and I'm working to change my first impression. Gratitude, I'm repeating to myself. Gratitude. Along the way he pointed to some construction happening between the hotel and the water's edge and he shared that if I were to come back in the spring my room would overlook a new large adult pool. Oh, man. Did you hear it? This was it. This was going to change things. A dangling modifier. Oh MAN. This is fuel of bad dad jokes. This is candy for self-appointed funny people like me. For centuries dads have pounced on dangling modifiers to get chuckles from strangers and eye rolls from family. The bellman's laughter would completely change how I felt about this hotel.

My mind quickly began preparing. The timing and delivery had to be perfect. I started thinking forward to how and when and where. The bellman helped me into my hotel room and unloaded his sacred luggage cart. I walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. It was time. "So," I said, "next spring if I were to check in this room and pull back the curtains just like this, I'd get an eye-full or large adults? I'm not so sure I'd want that. Certainly not want to pay extra for that view." There it was. So well done. Masterfully delivered.

I could see no scars around his face or head where his humor had been surgically removed but that could be the only explanation. "No," he said, "the pool will be large. It will be a large pool." I gave him twenty dollars, and he turned and pushed his sacred cart into the hall. "Thank you," he said, stuffing the money into his pocket.  He thought it was a tip, but I was paying him to go away.

I'm Cam Marston just trying to Keep it Real.

In today's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston laments the significant changes happening to the things that he once believed were fixed in place. Attitudes and beliefs once firmly held are vanishing. Even predictable things like football rankings have been deeply shaken. 

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To say that our world is undergoing a remarkable paradigm shift today is a ridiculous understatement. Each morning I look over the headlines prepared to be blown away by how formerly predictable things are now upside down or simply gone.

On the political front, an economist at a meeting a few years back told us it was coming. Political parties flip flop on key issues, he said, suddenly deciding that their power would be enhanced if they adopted the other party's position. He drew a four quadrant chart, showing how the parties were moving to replace each other on key positions. The Economist Magazine years ago wrote that the Republican's belief in balanced budgets and free trade would help the world by creating tighter alliances and enhanced dependance between countries to provide goods and services. Today, the Republicans are the party of the tariff and are working to eliminate treaties and alliances. The Democrats are now the ones trying to protect alliances and reduce tariffs. A complete flip flop. How does one abandon deeply held economic principles so quickly?

It used to be that the Republicans were the party that championed character and integrity and honesty and truthfulness. They told Nixon they would no longer support him and encouraged him to resign when they learned he had willfully broken the law. They thrashed Bill Clinton when they learned of his affairs, saying he was morally unfit for the Presidency. Today? It's hard to imagine a leader with more dubious character and lack of ethics. His transgression list is a mile long. And today's Republicans? Not a word from them about it. They're good with it. The party of character and integrity is gone. How does one so quickly abandon character and integrity?

We all once believed that playing time on the college football field was earned through quietly paying your dues and waiting your turn. We believed that the players on the field had earned their way onto the field and along the way they had developed a loyalty and appreciation for their school. We cheered for them because they had worked hard and waited in line and would love their alma mater just like so many of us do. Today? That's gone. Each game is the mercenaries versus the hessians. I wonder if they even know what team's jersey they wear and if they've ever been in a classroom at their school. I watch the games but I get sick when the announcer says a player is on his third school in three years. I watch but I don't like it like I used to.

The final paradigm shift is that the mighty Alabama Crimson Tide lost their season opener and is ranked 21st in the second week of the season. Free trade gone. The republican's loss of ethics. No longer paying your dues to get playing time on the field. None of that compares the paradigm shift of the Tide being ranked 21st in week two. That's the one that gets me. That's the one that tells me things have gone squirrely. I bury my head in my hands and worry about what's next. It can't be worse than this.

I'm Cam Marston and I'm just trying to Keep It Real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam discusses his largely sedentary life and the fulfillment he gets on the rare occasions he can see the results of his work. 

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Most weeks, my work mainly involves pushing electrons around. I sit at a computer and do stuff. Recently it's been requests for short training videos for clients to use with their teams. I write scripts, edit scripts and record videos. Other weeks I prepare presentations. Lots of PowerPoint editing, lots of rehearsing content. Lots of time online. Lots of buying tickets. It's all sedentary stuff. Me plus a keyboard plus a computer plus a screen, pushing electrons.

Last Saturday, though, was different. I was in Clark County at my father's property near Grove Hill. I climbed on a tractor shortly after 7:30am. It's a small John Deere with a scoop on the front and a mower on the back. I didn't climb off until well after 2pm. For about seven hours I mowed and pushed downed trees out of roads and fields. I was bitten by every biting insect in North America. My arms and neck got burned. My work pants smelled of diesel fuel. I added a couple more tears to my already torn work TShirt. My socks balled up inside my boots, sweaty, and my back hurt from lifting 50 lb bags of wheat. When I washed my hands, the white sink turned brown with dirt and dust that had stuck to my sweaty arms. A mystery bruise was beginning to ache and turn purple on my shoulder. I sat down in my father's small camp, told him I'm just going to close my eyes for a second, and fell solidly asleep. And I was deeply deeply happy.

Pushing electrons is what I've chosen to do for a living. At the end of every day, I typically leave my office with my checklist complete. I make a large one on Monday, add a little bit to it each day, cross some stuff off, and by Friday have largely worked through it. But I do not get the satisfaction of seeing the fruits of my work. At the end of the bricklayer's workday, he can step back and see the progress he's made. He started there in the morning and is now finishing here. His progress is easy to see. Pushing electrons doesn't offer the same satisfaction. But that was not the case last Saturday. Fields and roads were mown. Trees were pushed away. Progress was obvious. And it felt good. And tiring. The soreness was welcome. And the nap on the couch was earned.

Fall means it's time to cut firewood. It's the wood we'll use next fall, giving it a year to season and dry on the rack. I love cutting firewood. The feel of the chainsaw, going from tree to log to cut wood pieces to split pieces and the stack slowly growing in front of me. My hands rough and my back aching. Later, a cold beer and college football. And the sleep that night is an earned slumber.

I live a largely sedentary life. I go to work and sit. Then on to a meeting and sit. Then on to the next place and sit. A day seeing the progress of my work is needed every now and then. Strangely, the bruises and the soreness and the exhaustion make me feel alive.

I'm Cam Marston, just trying to keep it real.  

On this week's Keepin' It Real, Cam has a message for parents whose children are playing high school sports as his youngest children enter their final year of high school. Every high school sport is suffering from a shortage of officials and referees. Zip it, he says, please just zip it. 

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The second contact on a volleyball can be a double contact so long as it's one attempt and doesn't go over the net. That's a new volleyball rule set to begin this season. For years parents in the stands would holler "double" whenever they saw what they thought was a double touch on the ball on the second attempt. Now that rule is gone. Unless you know volleyball, none of this may make any sense. This rule change is a big deal.

This school year my favorite youngest son and daughter, our twins, begin what will likely be their final experience with organized sports. They're high schoolers. Last night my daughter's first volleyball match of the season was in Birmingham. My wife is her coach. Tonight, my son's football team plays their first game against their archrival.

Both teams require a parent meeting before the season begins. It's usually held in the school gym or cafeteria and the coaches go over the season's logistics and such and make their requests of the parents. This may be unique to our school, but my hunch is that it's the same everywhere. At both this year's football and volleyball meetings, the coaches implored the parents to leave the referees and officials alone. Both coaches mentioned that there was a shortage of officials. The veteran officials were quitting, and too few new ones were signing up. The reason? One word: parents.

In Texas, the association that manages volleyball officials said that if they feel their officials are treated poorly or threatened, which happens, they will not allow the officials to return to that school, effectively forcing the school to forfeit every home match since the home team is responsible for booking officials. And our football coach told the gathered parents that when the game is over, no one is to speak to the officials. They are to be allowed to leave the field and go to their cars without a word from the fans. Violations of this may result in the offending parent not being allowed back into the stadium.

And the problem is spiraling. Since the veteran officials are leaving, the few new ones are being accelerated through their training and are now officiating games at speeds and skill levels beyond their little experience. They're doing the best they can but likely making poor calls due to inexperience. The parents are losing their minds. And referees and officials are wondering if the little they earn filling this role for the kids and for the sake of the sport is worth it. It's hard to argue differently.

All this is certainly a part of something larger in our nation today. And I don't have time right now to hypothesize on what that may be. Just know this: The second contact on a volleyball can be a double contact so long as it's one attempt and doesn't go over the net. It's a new rule. If you see it differently, zip it. The same goes for the holding call. And your fast-food order, that guy in traffic who cut you off, and the reservation agent on the phone. Just zip it. There are already too few people willing to do the job, whatever it is.

I'm Cam Marston and I'm just trying to Keep It Real.

On this week's Keepin It Real, there are some arrogant folks showing up in Cam's life these days. They don't' commiserate with Cam's struggles. Instead, they gloat...

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This is a commentary about a specific kind of quiet arrogance. It's in the background. But you know it when you hear it. These people are "just reporting the truth," as they may say. It's not truth. It's haughty arrogance. And I'll tell you where I've run up against it recently.

The first is citrus arrogance. I planted a satsuma tree in my yard many years ago and it has never produced one satsuma. I talk it. I water it. I play it Gloria Estafan. It's leafy and broad and growing, but no fruit. When I ask gardeners, their arrogance explodes. "Oh man!" they say. "My satsuma tree is overcome with satsumas. I bag them and give them to family. Then I bag more and give them to neighbors. Then I bag more and leave them on my curb hoping someone will take them away. I can't get close to the tree there are so many on the ground. You can probably see them from outer space. I have vitamin C poisoning. Even my dog is eating them" and on and on. "You know," I say, "You don't have to boast so much about your dang tree." "Hey! I'm just reporting the truth." "Yes. A little too loudly" is my reply. My neighbor says his Satsumas taste like Starburst Fruit Chew candy and he gets tired of eating them. Ugh.

Next are hummingbird people. "Do you have any hummingbirds yet," they ask. "Yes," I'll reply. "The first one arrived a week or so ago. It's a little female." "Wow," they shoot back. "I think I have fifty. Maybe a hundred. I feel like I'm in some sort of war zone with so many hummingbirds flying by my face and the sounds of their wings. You've heard what one bird's wings sounds like? Imagine a hundred buzzing all over the place. It's a roar. I added a few more feeders to allow them to spread out but they brought in more hummingbirds. I think I have two hundred now. Maybe a thousand. I can't hardly go outside anymore. Aren't they magical?" Yes. Like you disappearing right now would be magical. "Hey! I'm just reporting the truth," they say. Blech.

Finally, orchid people. I have a knotty cypress stump full of holes and I want help turning it into an orchid planter. But having an orchid person in Alabama, Georgia, or Florida call me back with some advice is darn near impossible. "Ha!" I can hear them saying, "If he doesn't know how to do that, he won't learn it from me! Our orchid club is closed." They can cite every orchid's family, genus, and species articulated perfectly in Latin and they flash a look of contempt when you can't do the same. It's a club and they're quick to point out that you're not in it. And they won't tell you how to get in and they won't return your calls even if you leave several messages at the so called "Master Gardener Hotline." Which is a crock. They'll deny it of course. "We're not arrogant," they'll say. "We're not hoarding information. We're not trying to keep you out."

Ha. I'm just reporting the truth.

I'm Cam Marston and I'm just trying to Keep It Real.

The saying is that our dogs will greet us when we get to heaven. I sure hope so. We lost Lucy, our family pet of nine and a half years last night in what was one of the most tragic and heartbreaking nights I've ever been a part of. What was diagnosed as kennel cough turned into something different. At 9:30 I was preparing for bed. At 11:30 I was shoveling dirt on top of Lucy's grave along with my wife and children. We had been at the emergency animal hospital in hopes that they could do something. The dog died in my wife's arms on the way as I was furiously driving through red lights with the hazard lights flashing and sobs from my wife and daughters crying out. I'll never forget it. Lucy was a good dog. She was my wife's dog. We've wondered repeatedly what we missed seeing, what we did wrong, my wife especially. Lots of tears late last night. Lots of tears this morning. Losing the dog was hard. Watching my wife lose the dog is what's hurting so bad.

What is it about the magic of a dog that captures us so? Why do we connect to them so well? So deeply? People have grieved over the loss of pets for centuries. The Egyptians mummified their dogs so they would join them in the afterlife. Odysseus's dog, Argos, recognizes him after twenty years and Odysseus struggles to hold back tears and that story was written in the 8th century BCE. Dogs make meaningful eye contact. They show emotions. Their personalities become parts of our households. We talk to them. We complain to them. We sing to them. They never complain. They never walk away. They live fully in each moment, and their main aim in life is to please you and me, all for a simple scratch or a belly rub. All they want are these short moments of interaction.

I didn't realize how much I liked Lucy. She and I had a simple ritual each morning when she'd come to my morning reading chair and place her chin on my knee and ask for attention. I made a fuss of putting my book and coffee down and scratching her, telling her she was selfish and greedy, but I loved it that she wanted my attention; that my attention meant so much to her. I didn't realize how much I liked her and that I'd be missing her so much right now.

I can see the fresh dirt along the fence in the back yard from the grave we dug last night. There were lots of tears as each of us took turns tossing dirt into the grave. In time the leaves and pine straw will cover the dirt and Lucy will fade in our memories like the other dogs we've had. But this one is hurting right now. And the only joy I can find in any of it is the image of Lucy waiting in heaven for my wife. Tail wagging. Head up. Front feet tapping in anticipation.

You were a good dog, Lucy. You'll be missed.

I'm Cam Marston and I'm just trying to Keep It Real.