You can read more about this video (and me finally getting off my read-end to do something) over at the photography blog.

A few weeks ago, I took my son to his first hockey game.

Hockey was a big part of my childhood. I was never on a team myself, but the fire department used to flood the softball fields in the park near our house and we used to play hockey there. I remember my father taking me to see Hartford Whaler games, which were some of my favorite memories of him. Actually, they are some of my only memories with him. But they’re not really memories of him. I know he was the one that took me, but when I close my eyes and remember those games, I see the crowd, and the players, and the food, and everyone cheering, but I don’t see him.

One of my greatest fears being a father myself is to repeat the mistakes that my father made. For those of us without perfect parents, we often enter parenthood with the mindset of doing the exact opposite of what our parents did. “I’ll never do that with my kids.” “When I’m a father, I’m going to do things differently.” But I think, more often than not, that we repeat what we know. It’s involuntary. Maybe environmental. Maybe genetic. But that way of life, those habits, they pull at us like we’re tethered to them with a rubber band. The further we pull away, the harder they tug us to bring us back to them

It’s scary. It’s scary to think that you’re going in with the right intentions, to do right by your son, and that you’re going to do things differently, but that you can’t escape the past, and that the rubber band is going to pull you right back in and you’re doomed to repeat all of those mistakes, anyway.

Two years in, I still have those fears. I wonder if, 30 years from now, my son will take his child to a hockey game, and if he’ll remember going to games with me as a kid, but that he won’t remember me as a part of those memories. I wonder what things I swore I’d never do that I’m doing subconsciously, and that he’ll someday swear to never repeat with his own kids.

Maybe, just maybe, there is a way to cut the tether. I wake up every day wanting to be the best father that I can be to my son, and I’m on a continuous journey to be a better human, husband to my wife, and role model for him. Instead of him making a list of things to not do with his own children, I want him to joyously tell them of all the things that we did together as he’s doing those things with them. I want the type of relationship that I’m trying to create with my wife the type that he will strive for. I want the relationship we have with him to be the model he follows with his children. I’m not perfect, and I’m not going to get everything right, but as he grows up, I want him to know that I love him, that I’m doing my best, and that I’m always trying to do better, and for those to be the things that he’s tethered to and that he repeats with his own children someday.

It’s fatherhood, not the Peace Corp, that is the toughest job you’ll ever love.

He wanted to tell me to shut up. In hindsight, I wish he had.

My sense of humor has always been one of my greatest assets. Well, that and my devilishly good looks. Oh, and my charm. Ok, I have many great assets. But being funny has always served me well throughout my life, whether it was to stop getting bullied in high school or to pick up the most wonderful woman on the planet and somehow convince her to marry me. But, just like in the meeting yesterday, it’s also gotten me in trouble, particularly when my filter doesn’t kick in and when I don’t know when to stop. I know it (read: I) has hurt a lot of folks and given people an impression of me that I don’t want. When I interact with someone regularly, I sometimes have enough opportunities to rectify the damage. But sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I only see a person twice a year, and if during one of those times I’m an ass, then 50% of the information a person has about me points to me being an ass.

Relationships are everything, both in our personal lives and in our professional lives. Those relationships are built on trust, certainly, but also on the impressions we leave with those that we interact with, however frequently or infrequently. Looking back on the events of my training session, I’m left to wonder whether the other attendees remember me as the charming, funny guy from the beginning of the day, or the sarcastic train wreck from later in the day. Let’s hope it was the former, or that I have enough opportunities to present a better image to everyone the next time our paths cross. If not, then at least I will be more mindful going forward of the image of myself that I am projecting to those around me.

In the end, it was really nice to know that I’ve built up a nice enough reputation and trusting relationship with him that my coworker was comfortable enough to tell me what was hard to hear, even if I needed to.

“Well”, I told him, “I’d pretty much be doing what I do when I’m not at work.” I’d spend time with my family, take pictures, play music, and cook. The only difference is that I’d have more time to do it, and I’d probably throw in a bit more travel.

I gave my response without much hesitation; the answer came pretty naturally. After all, I only have a limited amount of time per day, so why wouldn’t I be spending those free hours doing what I wanted to be doing?

It’s only now, a few days later, that it strikes me how different my life is now than it was a few years ago. Back then, I would have fumbled for an answer, probably muttering something generic and uninspired. “Uh, I don’t know. But not this!” Now, however, my answer is easy, and inspired, and honest. Spending time with my family, something I’m learning to do better every day, is my favorite thing to do, and finding new ways to do it is a challenge I eagerly look forward to every day. That they inspire me, and help me, serving as my models, my taste testers, and my sounding boards, is a gift that I don’t appreciate nearly as much as I need to.

If I’ve learned nothing else this year, it’s that if you’re not spending your time doing the things you want to be doing instead of the things you have to be doing, then you are on the wrong path and it’s time for a change.

What do you want to be doing?

Immediately, my mind went to all of the things that I didn’t accomplish. All of the things that a year ago I was determined to do, full of vigor, and now, 335 days later, they sit unfinished. That iPhone app? Yeah, not done. Short story? Not started. Writing more? Taking more pictures? Not so much. The “unaccomplished” list is much, much longer than I am willing to admit, and longer than any list of things that I might have accomplished.

I’m pretty hard on myself, in general, so of course my reasoning for why things didn’t get done automatically involved all the time I wasted watching television, or playing games. And yet, when I force myself, reluctantly, to see past the mile-long list of failures, my sense of despair and self-loathing is lifted. All of that free time that I had hoped to dedicate to taking over the world? Instead, I did something much more important with it. I came home from work, and spent time with my family. Most nights I make dinner (now junior likes to “help”), and we hang out as a family until junior goes to bed. Even thinking it about it now as I write, a smile forms on my lips. My greatest accomplishments this year weren’t even on my list; being a present father and husband.

I might not have gotten as much done this year as I wanted to, but in terms of quality over quantity, I think 2011 turned out to be a pretty good year.

For me, the site and my posts there will provide an opportunity to talk about the stuff that I am learning on my journey to improve my culinary skills, and hopefully help other folks looking to do the same thing. I’ve got a few local friends who might also be contributing to the site, and I welcome other like-minded individuals to let me know if they would like to contribute, as well.

More to come…

Resist the urge to always be “connected”, put down your phone, and really connect with the people around you. Your spouse. Your kids. Your friends. The cashier. The dry cleaner. The waiter….

Video via Musea.

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

So far, so good.

eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, ten seven, ten eight, ten nine, twenty.

I dig it. Ten seven instead of seventeen. Other languages do something similar. Let’s keep going…

twenty and one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty size, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty.

OK, I’ve this this mastered. Let’s keep going through the 50s…

thirty and one, thirty two, thirty three, thirty four, thirty five, thirty six, thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine, forty.

forty and one, forty two, forty three, forty four, forty five, forty six, forty seven, forty eight, forty nine, fifty.

fifty and one, fifty two, fifty three, fifty four, fifty five, fifty six, fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine, sixty.

And now, the 60s…

sixty and one, sixty two, sixty three, sixty four, sixty five, sixty six, sixty seven, sixty eight, sixty nine, sixty ten.

Wait, what?

sixty eleven, sixty twelve, sixty thirteen, sixty fourteen, sixty fifteen, sixty sixteen, sixty ten seven, sixty ten eight, sixty ten nine, four twenties.

Four twenties? I was told there would be no math…

four twenties one, four twenties two, four twenties three, four twenties four, four twenties five, four twenties six, four twenties seven, four twenties eight, four twenties nine, four twenties ten.

Four, times twenty, plus..carry the one…

four twenties eleven, four twenties twelve, four twenties thirteen,four twenties fourteen, four twenties fifteen, four twenties sixteen, four twenties ten seven, four twenties ten eight, four twenties ten nine, one hundred.

Rinse. Repeat.

The reactions to Steve’s legacy are as divisive as the brand and platform he helped to create. Instead of tarnishing this post with commentary on those reactions, I wanted to instead offer some of my favorite Steve Job’s quotes.

Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me … Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful… that’s what matters to me. [The Wall Street Journal, May 25, 1993]

You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life. [Stanford commencement speech, June 2005]

Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle. [Stanford commencement speech, June 2005]

Innovation distinguishes between a leader and a follower. [via]

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart. … Stay hungry. Stay foolish. [Stanford commencement speech, June 2005]

I was never a student of Steve Job’s life, but I’m aware of and I appreciate a lot of his creative contributions and how he inspired a lot of people, all around the world in his brief 56 years on this Earth. We should all hope to do half as much in twice the time.