One of the largest affronts on our relationships, families, and happiness is "keeping up with the Joneses". It invokes pride and vanity, and it is subtle. I say this knowing full well that I am the worst of all.

More on that in a second.

After arriving in Hilton Head last weekend a high school friend who married a baseball player commented on my Facebook saying:

Honestly, I used to think there couldn't be anyone who travels more than athletes and sports wives...but I think the amount of traveling you do is pretty comparable to mine.

I certainly have been living up to my New Years Resolution that's for sure.

• February: Denver Ski Trip
• March: Hilton Head
• March: San Diego Visiting Sarah & Adam
• April: Orlando Visiting the Letters To God Movie Set
• April: Miami Visiting Erika & Patrick
• May: Key West w/CJ & Andrea
• June: Nashville Visiting Pat
• June/July: Indiana
• July: Hilton Head

On top of that, August is going to be Weekenders gone wild because soon I'll be working 6-days a week. The remaining travel is:

• Aug 6-8: Hilton Head
• Aug 13-15: Louisville Visiting Ashley
• Aug 20-23: Oregon for Lissa's Wedding
• Aug 27-29: Kentucky Lake Visiting Angela
• Sep 26-28: Chicago Watching Mike's Play
• Oct: Maybe DC Visiting Nathan
• Nov: Maybe Denver Visiting Mom & Cassie
• Dec: Maybe Indiana for Christmas

Or in interactive map form:

View a larger map

But what does this have to do with keeping up with the Joneses and Facebook? Simple: 170.

211 is the number of days from January 1st to today. Of those 211 days, I have "been on the road" 41 of them. Leaving 170 days that are just like everyone else's days.

Wake up. Shower. Go to work. Eat Lunch. Work Again. Come home. Eat Dinner. Watch TV. Sleep.

80% of my days are "boring" normal days.

But no matter how much I travel, I am still just as envious the friend backpacking through Europe, or spending the day at the lake. And I know about all of this becuase of Facebook.

I do know most people don't care about traveling like I do. But you could replace traveling with anything, and Facebook provides a 24/7 comparison of lives.

But wasn't that what class reunions were for?

Once every 10 years, you had one night where you were bombarded with the question: "how do I compare?" It was vain. It was stupid. But nevertheless it happened 3 times in life - and that was if you went.

But with Facebook, I am lucky if I go 3 hours with out seeing what everyone, and I mean everyone, is up to. Constantly comparing what they are doing to what I am doing (or buying, or living in, or driving, or marrying, or kids are doing, etc...etc...).

And even though most likely 80% of their days are "boring" just like mine, I still find myself comparing against the entire culmination of everyone's days.

This is not healthy. Constantly being bombarded in this fashion forces one to constantly pursue the next high: albeit trip, purchase, or (fill in the blank). This constant pursuit just took keeping up with the Joneses and gave it a steroid injection right in the quad.

Last year I blogged just after my 26th birthday how I had 14 years left due to my <sarcasm>completely rational thought</sarcasm> that I will die by 40.

It is now a year later. I am a year older. And with 13 years left, I came across a fascinating article the other day which states that according to a University of Minnesota study, more than 1 in 8 teenagers do not believe they will live to be 35. And while statistically speaking, 96% of us live to be 35, at least I now know I am not alone.

But that in and of itself wasn't the fascinating part. I have been thinking a lot recently about what motivates my decisions.

Take for example biking. I have been biking a lot. Try to do about 20 miles a day. It's been great for my stress level. And I generally feel a lot better. But I don't wear a helmet when I ride.

The other day one of my friends was harping on me about how stupid that is, especially in light of biking on the road (which I do), and getting close to 40 MPH at times (which I do).

But I don't feel like I actively make a decision to do the wrong thing. Same thing with not wearing a seat belt. I usually don't think, "hey, I don't want to wear a seat belt."

Or do I.

This scene from Scrubs has been replaying over and over in my mind a lot recently and I think it might relate to the UofM study.


But what does this have to do with the UofM study? The study goes on to say that most people who think they are going to die by 35 have a negative outlook on life, therefore they make riskier decisions based on their feeling of hopelessness.

But just as I had to call out Rob Bell on his book Sex God for missing the obvious, I am calling out UofM as well.

People who think they are going to die young don't make decisions based on hopelessness. People who think they are going to die young make decisions based on the fact that time is short and they are trying to jam as much as possible into what little is left.

Do I think this is particularly healthy? No. Do I think it is particularly unhealthy? No. Whether I live 10 more minutes, to 35, or all the way to 90: time is short.

This doesn't excuse unnecessary risky behavior like not wearing a helmet or a seat belt. It does explain however why some of us make seemingly riskier decisions than others: time is of the essence and death is inevitable anyway.

Now. Where is my bike? The sun is getting low and I need to go ride.

Much like my post on the Virginia Tech Shooting two years ago, the Iran conflict was too raw and emotional to say what needed to be said until now.

Now that things have subsided a bit, I feel more comfortable saying what I have thought all along: Barack Obama handled the Iran Election Conflict amazingly well. Historians will look back at that and say one of the most genius things America ever did in handling Iran was to not do a single thing during the election conflict.

But first a Scrubs episode to highlight why:


I am going to be obnoxious and pull the "I've been the Middle East card, and I am guessing none of the rest of you have" to say that what most Americans fail to understand about our "presence" in the Middle East is how those who we are "fighting against" wield our disdain for them against us.

Like Scrubs - it doesn't matter what we say, it gets turned around and presented as propaganda against our case. This isn't just true in Iran and Scrubs episodes but in my own life as well.

At my previous job I had two older gentlemen who, well, let's just say didn't appreciate anything I had to say or thought. They made life incredibly difficult for me. But what was worse was that they made progress for the church impossible.

What I learned - but unfortunately didn't practice as well as Obama - is that even if I had the greatest idea, even if I was right, the best thing I could do was not get involved. Would I encourage other more "neutral" parties to discuss and attempt to influence these two gentleman's perspective: absolutely. Should I have actively continued to jump into a fight I knew I couldn't win and ultimately made things worse: no way.

Most of our problems in the Middle East are in large part due to our involvement in things we feel obliged to jump into, when in fact it only makes the situation worse. Then when we actually have an opportunity to do something good about it, we back out. Thus leaving the average Middle Easterner frustrated and angry with us.

The movie Charlie Wilson's War (although about Afghanistan and not Iran) is a phenomenal example of this.

As usual, I was extremely proud of Senator Richard Lugar. It is because of his bi-partisianship, non-grand standing, non-crowd pleasing, straightforward and educated approach to politics is the reason he is the only member of Congress that shouldn't be voted out.

Unlike everyone else - especially Republicans - clamoring at Obama's perceived weakness regarding Iran, Lugar came out and said what needed to be said: America needed to stay the hell out of the Iranian conflict.


Iran and the Middle East is about a generation away from true reform. I have seen it with my own eyes. And the last thing America needs to do is intervene and jack that up. Patience is a virtue, and American needs to practice it.

If you follow my Twitter / Facebook status, you know that I have been biking a lot recently. Been trying to do at least 20-miles a day for the past month. So when I came to Indiana for a week, I brought the bike with me.

When I was in Middle School I ran cross country and would often run "the block" - Aboite Center Rd. to West Hamilton Rd. to Liberty Mills Rd. to Homestead Rd. It was four miles long and hilly. So since I needed a place to bike, and the Chattahoochee River was 650 miles away, I decided to expand "the block" into the 15 mile "super block."


The hills and wind have been a bit of a killer compared to the flatness and stillness of where I ride in Georgia, but it has been been a good ride.

But one thing I wasn't really expecting was the "trip down memory lane." While peddling for an hour or so up and down the hills of Aboite township, I pass my old high school and friends houses. Places I ran in cross country and ex-girlfriends neighborhoods. Places where I was pulled over for the first times and the church where I first found out about that Jesus guy.

And amidst the Gatorade drinking, hard breathing, car dodging, and legs pumping, I find my thoughts drifting to what I miss in life. What made and makes life great.

The past couple of days when I have turned off of West Hamilton Rd onto US-24, Jason Michael Carrol's Where I Am From comes on the iPod.

I love that song.

Despite what my LA friends assume, everyone in Indiana is not a farmer, and I did not grow up on a farm. I grew up the son of an attorney. I grew up in suburbia. I grew up going to country club dinners and vacationing to the beach for 6-weeks at a time. But I did spend a lot of time in my high school years hanging out in Huntington, IN - which is quite country.

Maybe that is where I got my love of country music. I don't know. But I think country music lyrics are usually pretty true to life and Where I Am From is no different.

I said I'm from the front pew of a wooden white church
The courthouse clock it still don't work
Where a man's word means everything
Where moms and dads were high school flings
Gave their children grandmothers maiden name
Yes it may not sound like much
But its where I'm from

...

Where the quarterback dates the homecoming queen
The truck's a ford and the tractor's green
And Amazing Grace is what we sing
Well there's a county fair every fall
And your friends are there no matter when you call
Yeah It may not sound like much but it's
Where I'm from

All that to say, biking the "super block", and hanging with CJ and Andrea, and seeing Dad and Lisa definitely make me miss where I am from.

There are two things I like in politicians: brutal honesty and class. There are two things I seem to never find in politicians: brutal honesty and class.

Karen Handel is the Secretary of State of Georgia, but (hopefully) will be our next Governor. Up until this week, I knew Karen to have a reputation of brutal honesty that is quite rare with politicians. There isn't that "politician / used car salesman" sheen that accompanies most of the politicians I have known and worked with through the years.

However it wasn't until this week that I realized not only is she refreshingly honest, but she is a real class act.

Karen came to the Wayne 60 event that we put on to celebrate Wayne Farr's 60th birthday and to raise money for the children at Murphy-Harpst children's home.

At the event we talked about Dan and Marilyn Quayle - I being from Indiana and can't spell and as Karen being Mrs. Quayle's Deputy Chief of Staff (which I didn't know). She was quick to defend the old boy and told me a little back story to the whole potato fiasco I had never heard.

But this past week I got a letter from her in the mail. Big deal. I know. I thought the same thing at first. Politicians send letters all the time. Or better put, politicians have their interns send letters all the time. But as I continued to read what I thought was a cursory letter penned by an intern and probably signed by one too, I got to the part where she mentioned the 30.59 miles I rode.

This wasn't announced at the event (I came in WAYYYYY behind everyone). This meant that she - or admittedly someone on her staff - read the blog I did on the event showing the picture of my speedometer and my comment about making it 30.59 miles.

So even if an intern did write said letter, I still will keep it along with the letter President Ford wrote to our family after my Grandfather died, as an example of true class from a politician.

As I think more and more seriously about entering politics everyday, I am grateful for someone like Karen showing how one can truly be brutally honest and class-filled and still thrive.

Thanks Karen!




For those curious, here is the letter Gerald Ford wrote my Grandmother when my Grandfather died. President Ford and my Grandfather were football buddies at the University of Michigan and would stay with my Grandfather when he'd come to Fort Wayne (before he was President).