I Took Their Advice

There was a right way and a wrong way to address my parents. I was predisposed to flights of fancy but given ridgid instruction as to which thoughts have value and which do not. Value.. the subjective word I needed a better interpretation of.

If anything didn’t have value in the eyes of my parents, my teachers and professors it was a shameful, pointless waste of time. Time.. another word no one puts into perspective for you at a young age. One might be lucky if they were born into a religion where they blindly bought into the notion that life somehow continues after death and dissolution.

I’ve spent my entire life chasing visions that weren't mine.

All of that had to do with what being a success and living a successful life meant to others. When my journey began, nothing I did was good enough. My desire to exceed the expectations of my father and mother became my purpose and contributed to an identity that developed around achievement. An identity that served a purpose.

Until now.

Music was the one thing none of them could take away from me. There’s a climate controlled room somewhere with floor to ceiling racks and drawers of pristine records and restored original master reels, some of which I spent a fortune to procure.

Nothing illustrates change better than art. Especially music.

There was once a musician, singer songwriter named Ricky Nelson. He wrote this tune called Garden Party. It tells the story of an event where he tried playing tunes that were a departure from the pop rockabilly stuff he’d become known for only to be booed mercilessly by the audience for doing something different.

I notice that there’s a human preoccupation with consistency.

My ex-wife expected that I’d always be the same person she married and she’s gone now. At different points in everyone's lives, it’s only natural that what we prioritize can and will change. When this happens, we may not seem like exactly the same person others have known. This can deepen friendships or relationships, but sometimes people just grow apart.. and that’s okay.

Maintaining healthy relationships require that we not only expect and anticipate change, but create an environment where the person you’re invested with will always feel safe enough to share their thoughts and feelings around whatever those changes are.

Might sound like sage advice now, but at the time when she took a third of my net worth.. I still placed value on all the wrong things.

The one thing I’m thankful to my parents for was my dogged determination. If I have a superpower, that’s it.

There was a Unicef drive at one of the private schools I attended. Outside of the headmaster’s office in a glass display case were a bunch of things you could win if you collected a significant amount of donations. Among them was the first Sony Walkman. My parents put food on the table which they didn’t cook and clothes on my back which they didn’t shop for, but I knew better than to ask for anything.

I didn't discover until much later that when Sony became publicly traded in 1970, my father bought a significant share of the company. He could have just given me a Walkman, but he would never do that. It was a lesson he needed to impart. That anything I wanted, I had to find a way to get. That I couldn't expect anyone to just give me anything. He built the family empire from the ground up.

As the son of poor immigrants, he managed to do something that most people cannot, although he believed they could.

My campaign knew no boundaries and I admit to taking full advantage of my fathers connections. I learned to tilt at windmills at a young age. While my friends went door to door in their neighborhoods looking for donations, I went into town and barged into every company I knew of that my father did business with.

Most of these CEO’s, CFO’s and COO’s were friends with my father and I’d bet that they saw this as an opportunity to curry favor with him. The donations they made were ridiculous and I raised more money for Unicef that year than Unicef’s professional fundraising division.

I didn’t care about the mission of the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund at all. I just wanted that Walkman more than anything else. At the assembly where those prizes were awarded, they wanted to give me something they felt was bigger, better and more appropriate for my efforts but I wouldn’t have it.

That school was only a few miles from my home and that day my walk home was resplendent. I don’t know if anyone else would understand, but I never wore headphones before. I bought a tape to play for this eventuality and batteries to put in it.

I felt that the music was all around me. Like anyone around me could hear what I was hearing and yes, it did teach me the intended lesson.

Ruthless. That’s what I became.

As soon as I could, I jumped into the family business and in time, I controlled every aspect of it. We owned the industries we served and greased the government wheels so well that antitrust lawsuits made me laugh out loud.

Winning the game was the only satisfaction I got out of life.

Like father, like son.

Through all the mergers and acquisitions, the leveraged buyouts, the right-sizing and downsizing, the hundreds and thousands of lay-offs.. I couldn’t have begun to imagine how many lives I’d wrecked. It took so long to conclude that the satisfaction I sought was only attainable through the suffering of others.

It wasn’t until a friend took his own life that my perspective began to change.

I remember meeting Henry in college. He studied business and we had many courses together. We lost track of each other after graduation for several years but he applied to work for a division of my company and I was so happy to see him again.

I’d go so far as to say that he was one of the only real friends I’ve ever had.

We and our wives would vacation together, I was the godfather of his children, we went to vinyl record conventions and shows together and I trusted him to manage a significant business portfolio. I think we were cut from the same cloth. The only difference was that I knew which laws could be bent and broken.

Henry was willing to take chances I wasn’t which not only led him afoul of the law, but got him involved in compromising schemes with some disreputable people. He invested his own money to bribe, influence and threaten people.

I didn’t learn any of this until it came out in some investigative report.

He felt that his only option was to take his own life before someone took the lives of him and his family. The wake of what happened was messy. The company had to settle court disputes and I had to testify before a grand jury. Thankfully, I never had the kind of visibility or celebrity that Steve Jobs, Bill Gates or Warren Buffett had and I wouldn’t want it.

I sat through hearing after hearing. The company was broken up by division and each was sold off to the highest bidder. Restitution was made and all outstanding debt had been paid.

Months later I was sitting in a coffee shop and writing in my journal. I’ve been called smart, savvy and shrewd but I think I must be one of the dumbest people on earth. A lot of people consider me a success. I don’t.

I just wanted to disappear.

I made up my mind to sell and donate most of my belongings. Among the organizations that I donated a large amount of money to was Unicef. I packed a bag, a bedroll and strapped them to my motorcycle. I traveled around the country, met so many people and slept under the stars.

I didn’t just listen, but I actually heard people for the first time. They were so much more than a homogenous, faceless market which I needed to craftily extort. I listened to their fear and concern, I learned of the things they value and witnessed acts of kindness and love.

The motorcycle broke down on a long road off a desert highway. I hiked for a few miles and I have no idea where I am. I’m out of food and water and if I die here that’s okay. As I look back on everything, I can see where the real value lies. This morning, I felt a joy I never have and cried over a simplicity and oneness I felt with the endless diversity of life.

Engulfed in the desert’s parched silence, I was nothing but another grain of sand in the wind.