As you may already know, I write a monthly column for the Indianapolis Business Journal. This month’s article is about using email as a communication medium for your business, both as a marketing and a customer service tool.

[Read the complete article]

Truthfully, it was only a matter of time. I stumbled into being a reader of Newsweek by purchasing it from a niece or nephew for a school fundraiser. I’ve kept the subscription for the past couple of years because I felt it was (at least) a good alternate source of information. But after being a consistent reader for some time, I began to find myself talking back to the damn thing more and more. I’d read stories that were either obviously slanted toward a particular view or espousing facts and figures that were so easily countered that I began to question the integrity of the entire publication.

And then this story about the Koran comes out. I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but here’s the synopsis:

Newsweek ran a story citing one annonymous source that soldiers at Guantanamo Bay flushed a copy of the Koran down a toilet as a means of coercing prisoners into talking. (The logic of this escapes me, by the way.) The story has widely been blamed for riots in the Middle East, the results of which were at least 17 deaths and hundreds of injuries. Newsweek has since retracted the story, citing that the source “can’t remember” where he saw the allegations and, in fact, can’t vouch for the validity.

I have several problems with this entire episode, not the least of which include:

• What kind of mindset do you have to have to kill someone over the desecration of a book? Seriously, I have no problem with Islam and I believe that people should be able to believe anything they like. But the physical book – the pages and the ink – are not the same as the message of the words. Even if you hold the words and message to be sacred, isn’t the book (which was made by man), just a book?
• Even if the story was true (and it might yet be), what was Newsweek hoping to accomplish? Is something like this newsworthy, or just inflammatory? Couldn’t they have guessed how this might be received around the world? Couldn’t they have anticipated the likely response?

I believe they probably had both guessed and anticipated correctly, but decided it was better to sell more copies of their magazine that to examine the authenticity of the story, the veracity of the source, or the responsibility associated with printing it.

Now seventeen people are dead, hundreds are wounded, and our efforts in both Afghanistan and Iraq have been seriously undermined… all due to a story that, in the end, may not be true.

First some background:

We’re sitting at lunch recently when a table of women next to us is engaged in conversation about each of their “baby’s daddies.” As in: “My baby’s daddy went to the market. My baby’s daddy stayed home.”

We’ve noticed this trend for some time and feel comfortable identifying this as an actual “thing”. Kind of like “hottie” entered the American lexicon to stay (at least for awhile), “my baby’s daddy” is set to make a move.

Fast forward to today. We’re eating lunch at the Original Pancake House (today was “O”), and the waitress has an issue with us. Two people ordered “french toast Charlene” and got “french toast”. When we informed her, she said, “Oh, I didn’t hear you say ‘almond'”. (The full, proper name for this dish is Cinnamon Almond Nut French Toast Charlene. She was somewhat indignant that the proper name wasn’t used when ordering.) While she was off fixing this issue, I noticed that the eggs I ordered (“over easy”) weren’t just runny, they were basically clear covered with a marginal layer of white. In other words, they weren’t cooked at all. So I pointed this out when she returned. She replied, “Didn’t you say ‘over easy’?”

“Well, yes,” I replied, “but I did want them cooked.” She huffed and went away. When she brought them back (cooked, this time), she said, “Is this how you wanted them?”

“Yes, this looks fine,” said I.

“Well that’s ‘over medium’.” She turned away before I had the opportunity to thank her for the egg etiquette lesson.

This got us to wondering about the worst possible list of people to be chastised by. I immediately offered “waitress” as a possibility. Someone chimed in “parking lot attendant.” Someone else added “bathroom attendant.” And then Ben said, “Jerry Springer.”

We spent the rest of the time trying to think of anyone worse to be chastised by then Jerry Springer. What could he possibly have to pass on to anyone else as a usable life lesson? And that somehow turned into a Jerry Springer episode: “I married my brothers baby’s daddy.” I laughed until I cried.

Incidentally, I’ve been unable to find any reference anywhere to “eggs over medium” and – believe me – I’ve looked. For those interested, here’s a link that’s all about eggs. And if that’s not enough, whip out the vinegar and make yourself a naked egg. Very cool.

Since we’ve been growing our family at a faster rate than our house will support (having twins can do that), we’ve been looking for a new place to call home. I don’t know if you’ve done this lately, or if it was a frustrating experience for you, but here’s the general problem:

The houses that we love; we can’t afford.
The houses that we can afford are either too small, need too much work, or are in neighborhoods that are questionable.

So this has been going on for some time, and let me tell you, it’s been very frustrating. Until this morning.

This morning, I heard a story on the radio about home prices in California. Now, I’ll readily admit that living in California has certain benefits not found here in Indiana. The ocean comes to mind. The weather, hills, and redwoods, too. But factoring in all of the good stuff with all of the bad (like O.J., earthquakes. mudslides), I can’t imagine living there.

It’s recently been reported that only 18% of the population in California can afford a median-priced home, and the average home price has now topped $500,000. Lest you think otherwise, the amount of house that half a million buys isn’t much.

So, all in all, while the plight of Californians isn’t really making this process any less frustrating for me, it does help to put things into some perspective.

From my Dad:
This evening, the wind blows in across the Neuse River and lights on the front windows of our home. It is unlike the southerlies that come in summer or the harsh wind from the north that chills us in winter. It is more of a welcoming to spring or the coming summer that we have waited for seemingly forever. Warmth! It promises warmth! As soon as it has passed, our lives will turn to the south in anticipation of the life enhancing rays of warmth.

If we could look forward to anything with greater eagerness, what might it be? Perhaps the shining faces of our grandchildren’s next visit? Maybe the pleasure of a fine golf course with mature grass and manicured greens? Hauntingly, the soft touch of our lover’s hand at bedtime? Such thoughts are these!

What do we want? What do we need? We have all that we could wish for in a lifetime. Sometimes, we think of what might come after we pass from this earth because we find it difficult to imagine that anything could be finer than what we have had here. Could it be? And will we know it?

So many questions. So few answers! But how happy we are that we can experience what is here and now. All of life is not so cheerful, but when we contemplate all that we have done, we feel that we have had the best of it all. If there is more beyond this, then we hope that we will have prepared ourselves for the better part of it.

But for now, we will wait for the southerlies.