The writing life.

A few weeks ago I cleaned out the final remnants of my high school, university and early adult life from an old trunk they'd been occupying in my parents' house in Canada. Memories came to technicolor life, some excruciatingly happy, some brutally sad. Some big wins, and some real losses. Each one of these remnants, I can see now, have made me who I am. Every weakness, flaw, imperfection. Every wish and hope. 

Some of my favorite finds were my words from those days when I was discovering this world and who I am. Like this, an opening to a story - autobiographical, no matter how hard I tried in my youth to mask it! Perhaps one day soon I will finish it. I can feel the ending now.

"I remember those nights I used to come down to the seashore and walk along the train tracks beside the water. I’d find a big rock, out on the shore’s edge, and sit. Just sit there, cross-legged and lean back on my palms to stare at the sky. So many stars, bright ones, dull ones, too many to count. I’d look for the constellations they taught us about in school. All I remembered were two dippers, a bear, and something called the Evening Star, which was really Venus. I looked up anyway, drawn by the brilliance.

The smell of salty air and the sound of the sea was all about. Sometimes a big wave would come, crashing so violently the spray would shoot up and get me wet. Waves. They started out as dark ridges moving toward the shore. Then they seemed to pick up speed, and crash with a smack into the land. They turned from blue to white, and sloshed rhythmically against a log. The sole purpose of the log seemed just to be there at that moment in time, for the waves.

I gained so much motivation from nature. There were the nights I would go home, and plunk myself in front of the typewriter, trying to type out all the great thoughts and story ideas that had just come to me. It was important to do this before they disappeared. I would have taken the machine with me to the beach, but there was nowhere to plug it in. Yes, I was a writer, or at least I was trying to convince myself I was one.

It was a night like this one in the heat of the summer when it all started. I was leaning over the White Rock pier, gazing down into the water, completely caught up in my writer’s mind, when I felt a stranger walk up and stand beside me. Even though I knew I didn’t know him, it was a warm feeling. When he spoke, his voice was oddly familiar."

Life according to a Tunisian cab driver in Chicago

This morning in a cab on my way to meet my dear friend Kathy Cecilian for breakfast in Chicago I had one of those moments drop into my life that for a brief moment in time make me stop, take note, and think of things completely differently. I take a lot of cabs in my travels, and am threatening to write a book about the stories many of the men and women who have driven me through cities all over the country have shared. You can learn a lot in 20 minutes in a cab with a total stranger. Today was one of those most precious times.

It usually starts with asking where I am from, and I reciprocate with the same. Today's driver was originally from Tunisia and had the French accent to prove it. Or maybe with comments about the weather. That was the opener today - how beautiful this early November day in Chicago was - fall colors, crisp air, clear skies, light wind on Lake Michigan. My driver went from there to how much he loves living in this city, versus, say Los Angeles where his brother lives. One of, I would learn later, five brothers he has. When he learned I am from Vancouver, Canada he drew a parallel between my hometown and Chicago. Both have four seasons, both have great urban cores, both are very pretty. To him the seasons are important. You see, in cities like LA where it's nice all the time he told me, people take things for granted, and often adopt the "meh, I'll do it tomorrow" attitude in favor of spending time at the beach or just hanging out. He took it further and said those kinds of places are not good places to raise children, they just don't inspire the same work ethic as cities like his new hometown. Interesting logic.

Then comes the next question - do you have kids. My standard answer is I have fur kids with four legs. Here's where it got amazing. Growing up in North Africa my new driver and friend had a number of cats. It was pretty typical for cats to come and go and take care of themselves - they were all over his neighborhood, coming and going in and out of the house as they pleased. But it was a special dog he really wanted to talk about. A German Shepherd he named Prince, who he got for free from a neighbor who promised him a puppy. Prince was the runt of the litter, skinny, and not expected to be anything special. But my driver took him home, nurtured him, fed him and trained him, telling me with pride that when his neighbor saw him two months later he didn't believe the puppy could possibly be the same one. He was big, strong, athletic and smart.

My driver was a teenager at the time and saved the money he made working his family's farm to buy food and bones for Prince. He took care of him. He trained him and he shared that the time he spent with Prince kept him from the trouble some of his brothers got into. Prince gave him a purpose, a responsibility. Very sadly, after being the most important thing in my driver's life for 4 short years, Prince fell to an infection from a raw bone and despite trying everything in his young power to save him, Prince passed away.

Sad, for sure, but there's an amazing legacy that lives on today. Prince became the metric by which my driver friend learned to choose his friends. He chose them based on their character. Were they egotistic and selfish, or were they kind and giving to others? Were they trying to do something positive or just causing trouble? These questions were coming from a teenage boy growing up in rural Tunisia because of the time he had with a special dog. A dog that showed him a strength of character that he used to measure others by.

He still carries a picture of Prince and shared with a smile that he uses his name in his online passwords. He thinks of him everyday. My new friend now has human children too, and loves them dearly, (I am quite sure he's an amazing father) but tried to find words to explain the special gift of unconditional love and devotion a special animal gives.

When we arrived at my destination I thanked him for the ride and the conversation. I took with me into my Thursday morning a deep gratitude for the special animals (Lucas, top of my list) I've shared my life with, running through the list of life lessons they've taught me. I hope I honor their gifts and memory as much as my driver friend honored Prince's.

We're all customers. How "salesy" can you really take?

Today I had the amazing pleasure of visiting a community we opened in Tampa, FL about 8 months ago. First, I am here to tell you, the housing market is back. People want to buy homes and they are excited to do it. The building activity is great, and we are accelerating Phase 2.

Second, we nailed it. Not to brag, but I am going to brag. The Landing (cafe, community info center, bridge to the fitness facility and pool) is working better than I could ever have dreamed. The integration of our community information with a non-sales environment is spot on. Want a coffee? How about a custom individual pour-over? I had the Waterset Blend this morning, and it did the job. Rather sit and surf? Go for it in the banquettes, located along the windows overlooking the pool.

The photo above is the community table, think farm tables of days gone by, where family and friends gather to talk about the day. Here you can check out the location, the topography, the lots available and the builders selling homes. Or, you can just drink that amazing pour-over coffee.

Super proud of this place and how we created it to be whatever it needs to be for whomever wanders in. Kind of like the bar at Cheers.

The lesson here, and the real take-away, is that we are ALL customers. What kind of experience do we all want? Not one where we are pounced on and asked what we need. Nope.

We are on our own terms, and we should acknowledge that our customers feel the same way, and create spaces that work to support that.

Lessons learned from Lucas (the best dog ever) who left us 5 years ago today.

Five years ago today we said sad goodbyes to Lucas, the best dog ever. My sweet precious boy, when diagnosed with adeno carcinoma, had just one month left to teach me some of the most important lessons ever. Lucas knew these intimately and lived them every day. I am still his student. Five years later, I've still got much work to do. An encore re-post in honor of his sweet sweet soul, shining eyes and easy smile.

Things you've taught me:

Always show your deep love and devotion when someone you love enters the room.

When there's a crowd, hang back but be near and strong in your commitment.

Forgive quickly, easily and completely so you can love the next moment.

Enjoy absolutely everything you can to the fullest, and show those around you your joy - even at the simplest things.

Be free and giving of your love and support when someone you love is hurting and distressed. Come to them on their terms to help.

Keep playing, even when you may not want to, and show those who love you that it matters to them.

Come when you're called, no matter how you feel - and stay really really close.

Trust the ones you love the most will always return, even if you don't know when or why they left.

When they do return, be open and ready to make a complete fool of yourself showing them your love.
Jump. Dance. Smile. Wiggle. Kiss hard and fast.

Let your eyes show the full depth of your emotions.

Be gracious and accepting when someone tries to help, even if you really don't want it.

When you're scared, come to the ones who love you for comfort and support.

When you just need to "be", and you feel pain or discomfort, let it out, let those who love you stroke your head and love you up.

Approach each day as if it were the first and last day of your life.

When there's anger around you be quick to move in and offer comfort.

Live fully, beautifully and completely in the moment as it happens.

Playing to the pets - for real.

Check this out, proudly displayed in the lobby of The Curtis Hotel in Denver. This is an amazing and fun example of a hotel brand embracing the oft-forgotten four-legged members of the family. They don't just "accept" dogs. They celebrate them.

Even the in-room directory says they take pets and sure, there's a 40 pound limit, but they are flexible.

Judging by the subtle but irreverant cues throughout the hotel and the rooms, someone spent some brain cells envisioning the customer experience they wanted to deliver.

From the sticky note on the bathroom mirror in memo format, offering me a free drink at The Corner Office (the on-site bar and restaurant) after a long day, to the room service menu that includes a hidden page of items under a bold round sticker that claims, "not your average room service menu" with choices like "the hangover" (bloody mary fixings), "show time" (bucket of popcorn, jones sodas and red vines licorice) to the door hanger that offers $5 off food in the restaurant if you hang it to stake your claim you're making a green choice to help the environment, and don't need your bed and towels changed every day - this place is full of memory points.

Hotels are a commodity really. A bed to sleep in. A shower in the morning. And maybe a cup of coffee and quick breakfast to go, or food late at night after a flight delay.

These guys have given me a great experience and reminded me, yet again, that no matter how same same same your industry is - there are a million memory points to be created that will elevate your customer experience clear above the bext guy's. It just means burning a few brain cells to do it.

A New Brand Promise in Subtle Change in Job Titles

This morning was week two in a row of east coast travel, on Delta Airlines, and probably the seventh or eighth week this year alone on the same 8am departure from San Diego to Atlanta, to then connect to points east. So I know this was the first time I've heard a subtle difference in how the Delta team working the flight refers to themselves.

"Stewardess" went away at least a couple decades ago, to be replaced by "flight attendant" when referring to the team of safety and hospitality-trained pros who work the flights. Attend to the flights. Attend to the needs of passengers. Passive, responsive, attentive, if you take the meaning of the word at face value.

On our first Delta flight today, the lead "attendant", Marsha, referred to she and her colleagues as "flight servers". Not an unintentional reference for sure. Think about it. Servers are proactive, they ancitipate needs, know your preferences if you travel enough (what kind of sweetener you like in your coffee, ice/no ice), and do what they do with a personal individual touch that goes beyond just attending to needs. Think the famous examples like Ritz-Carlton, or Intrawest.

One word in a job title a company culture doesn't make, but in this case it really sent a message about Delta's focus. And I know everyone has horror stories about Delta or (insert-airline-name-here) but it seemed a legitimate attempt to set themselves apart in an industry that is wringing every last nickel out of customers while actually decreasing service. Even though our departure was delayed by a minor maintenance issue that put us at risk of missing a connection, Marsha made those same standard announcements we can all recite, but with a little more sincerity and appreciation in her voice than most.

Marsha is one of the best in the business and worked hard today to ask the pronounciation and spelling of my last name. She wanted to "add you to my list" which made me feel like there might be some future benefit to me as a traveller for making that list, even if it's just a smile and acknowledgement.

Words are powerful. Think about how you use them in creating and conveying a culture in your business.

You can tell a lot about a city by how it lives at night

When the night is up and the lights are down in the downtown core of any city in the world, its true self shows. Seattle. On a very windy Tuesday night in January. The district between Belltown, and Pike Place Market.

It's well past closing time for the ecclectic retailers - from the Steinway & Sons piano shop, to City Kitchens, to the Columbia Store, to Nordstrom. Funky pubs and eateries are winding down. And there's a good sized crowd hunkered down inside Uptown Espresso, intent on the laptop, smartphone or iPad screen before them, sipping the beverage that helped make the Emerald City famous. This cafe looks to be the living room for the apartment homes in the building next door, just one of a collection of residential buildings from 4-story mid-rises, to reclaimed historic tenements, to concrete and glass modern hi-rises, scraping the sky at 20+ stories.

This city is vibrant and alive, not in a NYC kind of way, but more like a San Francisco or a Vancouver. Walking alone I feel totally at ease. I marvel at the diversity of architecture, lit up by the street lights and the reflection of the signage in the city's core. There's an energy here that says, "we're good with it". It's evident in the design of the experience, and names of one of a kind places like Serious Pie - a pizza spot. You shouldn't need to read the menu to figure it out. Even in the rain, and tonight's fierce wind, Seattle just is. There's a quiet confidence, coupled with a wit and intellect all its own.

A crowd of homeless people gathers to sit on the ledge of the stand-alone Starbucks on 4th and Pine. During the hour I'm out walking, the crowd grows in size. One man among them has dressed his pit bull companion in a torn down vest to provide warmth from the biting wind. They all know each other, and share their own community. Inside the Starbucks, there's a young man dressed in a track suit talking with a man in a business suit. He looks to be applying for a job, or given the young man's height, possibly talking with a college basketball recruiter. Hope is written all over his face.

There are many more like me strolling the streets, mostly young couples, or groups of young people. Some clearly getting off work, or coming up out of the subway to connect on a city bus line. Some appear to be heading home from an evening class at a local college. Like the young man in Starbucks, there's a pulse and an energy here that smells of optimism. Even the mannequins in the window at Nordstrom flash forward in their bold colors, almost daring us to challenge their position that the upcoming Spring season will be better and happier than the last. I'm going with it. And I'm taking a little piece of Seattle's fresh confidence with me.