By: Ken Boone It's always good when a person like me finishes something he starts. It punches a big hole in the idea that I'm wishy-washy. Although not true, that reputation was something I had to live with for a long, long time. It's hard to believe that I'm putting the finishing touches on the 35th and final episode of my podcast, "From Grievance to Gratitude". Yes, that's the same title I use for this blog, since it was meant to a companion to the blog. Since I consider myself more of a writer than a talker, my plan was to use the podcast to fill in the blanks. The first few episodes were painful to record and probably even more painful to listen to. But since I didn't expect the show to garner a large following of listeners, I was able to toil away in anonymity. One can be quite bold when one knows he's not being heard. The main purpose of the show was to give me experience behind the microphone. Since I produce several podcasts hosted by other people, I felt it would be a good idea to practice what I preach! The first few episodes featured me mouthing off about the perceived slights I endured in both my early and later years. However, I would intentionally double back and express the gratefulness I felt when I found the silver linings. At first, the gratitude was pretty hard to spot. But over time, it began to take over the episodes, as well as this blog! Through sickness and health, these two outlets were welcome companions. I couldn't wait for Monday mornings to post links of my latest blog post on social media. Wednesday mornings were reserved for posting the podcast episodes. I'd swell up with pride when I found the posts and episodes when I would conduct simple Google searches. I guess that made me "bona fide"! For us old heads, it's like seeing you name in the phone book for the first time. But I digress... The only time I took a break from blogging and recording was when I was recovering from a serious illness last Fall. I was in such bad shape that I had to be hospitalized for five days. When I was being admitted, I was asked what activity I did that gave me most pleasure. Without giving it any real thought, I blurted out "creating podcasts". That information was posted on the white board in my room. It was also entered in my medical files. In fact, every time I meet a new provider from Atrium Health, that factoid always comes up. What an amazing ice breaker! With the recent outbreak of the Covid-19 virus, podcasting has suddenly become an important part of the corporate communications strategy for companies large and small. Demand for quality production to go along with corporate messaging has translated to a busy time for me in the near and possibly distant future. I'm ready, willing, and able to do my part. A casualty of this spike in activity is my little podcast. It doesn't have a huge following, but I used it as a barometer of personal growth. As mentioned several times recently, the gratitude began dwarfing the grievances. I found myself with very little to complain about! I will be replacing my little podcast with a new show with a possible launch date in June, 2020. It will focus on survival stories of people working in the gig economy. While I will cover many industries, the main thrust will be on the creative freelancers, like musicians, videographers, writers, etc. I'm excited about this new chapter, but I hope that the show is short-lived, for obvious reasons. I'll continue writing this blog with new posts every Monday. And I'll continue my current practice of groping around in search of grievances. And I'll continue to measure success by "great job, Honey" I get when my wife Celia hears the episode playbacks. I also measure satisfaction by the smile that's reflected back at me every time I look in the mirror! Stay blessed, my friends!
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By Ken Boone
The news was great. The results came back negative. However, judging by our reactions, it seemed like we received a different outcome. Don't get me wrong, not having a potentially life-threatening virus should make anyone's day. It just wasn't the scenario we gamed out. Celia and I have been through a lot medically over the past few years. Let me rephrase that - we've overcome a lot during over the past few years. So we weren't in the mood to have to deal with COVID-19. Just tell us how we can keep ourselves safe and we'll go from there. In fact, take your time in finding a cure. Like just about everyone who doesn't think that this is a hoax, we've watched every news program and scoured the internet to get the latest information. The main thing we wanted to find out is "how do you catch the damn thing"? It seemed that no two sources brought the same expert opinion to the fore. Initially, they were in agreement about who was most susceptible to acquiring the virus. And lucky me made the list due to age and underlying medical conditions. What gave me comfort was that my heart guy, Dr. V., said I was well enough to postpone my April 7th doctor's appointment. I was proud to "donate" that slot to someone with a greater need! While watching a stream of medical and science experts on more Skype connections than I care to remember, I noticed one early symptom they could all agreed upon - that nagging cough. Like the one I've had since March. Like the one I've had every Spring for the past forty plus years. While my brother suffered from hay fever since he was a child, I developed allergies in my early 20s. The first thing that made me sneeze uncontrollably was toner from copy machines, going downhill from there. The cough was both a leading and lagging indicator that I was in the midst of an allergic flare-up. I also was able to glean from all of coverage was that it was a grand idea to frequently take my temperature, which fortunately stayed within the normal range. But that damn tickle in my throat didn't go away. Okay, it's six in one hand, half dozen in the other! When I noticed that these networks had created bumpers and stingers consisting of heavily cinematic music and scary graphics, that I saw the entertainment underpinnings of there coverage. You see, it comes down to ratings for these people. But what about the little tickle in my throat? Although Celia and I dutifully adhered to the shelter-in-place and social-distancing recommendations, we were exhausted by the hype. I started watching the local news from our cable carrier (Spectrum). They seemed to be able to give us the same pandemic-related news while covering a lot of other human interest stories. The meteorologists were kind enough to provide pollen count information along with temperature and precipitation forecasts. That bit of information reminded me that I suffered from allergies that mostly consisted of sneezing and coughing. We also increased our intake of Hallmark movies, although they have always been a guilty pleasure of mine. In addition to their ever-popular Christmas movie marathons, they are wrapping up their block of "Spring Fling" movies. These movies used flowering fields as a visual backdrop for their standard "Boy Meets Girl, Boy Loses Girl..." storylines. While I typically enjoyed the romance piece, looking at the flowers seems to make my nose itch. After I publish this blog post and before I publish my latest podcast episode, I will begin to compile my grocery list for my weekly foray into the germ-infested environs. I'm currently virus free and with the help of masks, rubber gloves, and the Good Lord, I'll be protected. You see, the masks and gloves keep the germs from spreading, while the Good Lord reminds me that the tickle in my throat most likely is attributable to the allergies I've dealt with for decades! By: Ken Boone
The other day, I had the pleasure of contributing to a conference call. It was the second in a series of calls with this group of people doing good work. The group consisted of individuals who had multiple letters after their names, and yours truly. The first call didn't go so well in my estimation. Although there wasn't any bluster coming from the participants, there was an air of "things need fixing and I know how best to fix them". That resulted in a lot of reinventing of the wheel. There were a lot of monologues with very little natural gaps for others to interject. There were very few opportunities for me to add to the discussion, which left me feeling frustrated. We are all caught having to adjust our way of living almost on the fly. Most face-to-face encounters have been replaced by Zoom, Google Hangouts, Go To Meeting, and WebEx platforms. Webinars and podcasts are now the new norm. While I respect the professional accomplishments of the individuals on those calls, I needed to be able to remind them that webinars and podcasts are in my wheelhouse. I can do them in my sleep and have done the research. But the people with the letters behind their names insisted on telling me what to do, even when I was already doing those things on a daily basis. I try to be a team player. I grew up playing team sports. I sang in a choir. I was in a number of bands. I could go on forever. I was also conditioned to defer to the judgment of others, even when I had the solution. So much so that when I insisted on getting my point across, I typically did so with very little tact. As I mentioned a number of times in both my blog as well as my podcast, it took me too long to earn my college degree. And I only earned one. I made a lot of excuses for not finishing, but the main reason was that I was simply afraid. I thought that my brain cells that I used for learning had simply died off. Maybe my chronic truancy in high school brought me to that conclusion. The 1957 classic movie "12 Angry Men" was a courtroom drama starring Henry Fonda. One of the jurors was an ad man by trade, meaning that he came equipped with a vocabulary dripping in the latest buzz words. Having the other jurors convinced that he was wise, it wasn't until he couldn't make a decision that the others realized that he was all talk and no action. I, too, would used my perceived lack of credentials convince myself that I had nothing to contribute to that call. even remained silent when they tried to state "facts" about the structure of podcasts, a subject that I've learned and practiced quite a bit about. I stewed about the slights for a few days, which was far too long. After getting up the nerve to calmly voice my frustrations, I was convinced by allies to push back when I knew a fact was being misrepresented. I was told that I was the expert on most the topics discussed in this series of meetings. This brings us to the conference call of the other day. I listened respectfully, pushed back appropriately, and felt a part of a productive call. I was listened to. I was deferred to. My input was needed and welcomed. When the call ended, I rushed to the nearest mirror to give my reflection a piece of my mind. I told myself that I was just as valid as anyone else. I also reminded my reflection that if I felt intimidated by other, more impressive folks, I could borrow a time-honored technique used by successful people and great impostors the world over. I would just "fake it until I make it"! By: Ken Boone
They wanted us to stay inside. That was long before the state instituted the order (or should I say policy). The message was delivered to us by the nice doctor as she was telling us that we were negative for the flu. She also gave us a handout as she wished us "good luck". On the drive back home, Celia started reading the document out loud. Buried within were clear instructions that this self-quarantine was to happen with us in separate rooms, even using separate bathrooms. No wonder the document was rolled up when the doctor handed it to us. How can we quarantine in separate rooms? How can we not sleep in the same bed? Except for a few nights when one of us was in the hospital, we always slept in the same bed. Even during those hospitalizations, the one who wasn't the patient always slept in a recliner next to the patient's bed. Although we both work from home, we spend a lot of time in different parts of the house. Celia works from the master bedroom with her laptop placed on her, well, lap. I spend most of my day in the bonus room above the garage. That's where I set up my recording studio, as well as my home office. I record Celia's podcast from our downstairs music room. It began life as a sitting room, which I've been told was typical in the South. Nowadays we all just flop down in the family room. In our house, that room is too comfortable to call by it's proper name -- the Great Room. When we would go out on our daily adventure, typically to the grocery store, we'd be together. Being originally from a city of over 8 million people, I am still amazed that I'm easily recognized when I walk into both of my neighborhood Publix supermarkets. I almost feel like Norm from Cheers! During Celia's recoveries from both hip surgeries, I had to do the shopping by myself. It never failed that a number of store employees would ask how she was doing and for me to send her their love and well wishes. And when she made her triumphant return to the produce aisle (as you know, she's a vegetarian) those employees would drop what they were doing to give her a welcome back bear hug! Against this backdrop of togetherness I just painted, we had to make the decision whether we should quarantine separately or not. I'll admit, the drive home became pretty sobering. Being a couple of accountants, we created an imaginary ledger. The left column were reasons to quarantine apart, while the right were reasons to stay together. It quickly became obvious that we would stay together! During the deliberations, we started exchanging stories about adventures past. We talked about dozens of trips we took to Asheville to play at our favorite church. You see, driving through the Blue Ridge Mountains was breathtaking for a city guy like me. I would savor the moments by "only" driving about 10 mph over the speed limit. Since Celia was from that neck of the woods, she wasn't impressed. I finally wised up and handed her the keys. That way, my lead foot wife would make the 125 mile trip in well under 2 hours. That doesn't seem impressive until I remind you that she's driving through a mountain range, and the trip in mostly uphill. We reminded each other that it was just the two of us on that huge stage at those performances. Although I'd spent most of my life on stage, with much of it leading a band, choir, and/or small vocal ensemble, here I felt most comfortable playing my bass while sitting on a stool behind Celia, who was at the piano. There were many more stories that we recalled, and many more that we forgot during that ride home. We ten reminded ourselves that, since we both had recovered from our year of medical hell, we had a comeback to plan and execute. A lot more drives to make. A few hotel rooms to crash at. And many, many more adventures to the grocery store to pick up provisions as well as be recognized and greeted warmly. Friends sometimes feel sorry for us. They tell us all the time that we've been through a lot and the worry and pray for us. Well, thanks for the concerns and especially the prayers. We then tell them that we are doing great. That our "troubles" are just another adventure. And we LOVE those adventures, big and small! |
About the AuthorAs owner of the Descant Music & Media Group, Ken is a creator and producer of several podcast shows. He is also a music producer, as well as a writer and an accountant for small businesses and nonprofits. Archives
June 2020
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