Two Ideas for 2025
When last I checked in, I was in search of a hobby. And for those dying to know, I’m still looking.
Not for lack of helpful suggestions. The reader feedback has been encouraging and well-meaning. In fact, I may have struck a middle-aged nerve. And while I haven’t yet picked up on any of the ideas, I did and do greatly appreciate the effort and outreach.
One colleague I’d not seen in a while took the opportunity of a chance meeting in the grocery store self-checkout line to invite me fly fishing with him. Incredibly kind. And, I’ve not done it.
Others used the “comment” button on Facebook to suggest knitting, woodworking, beekeeping, and a second vote for fly fishing. Again, thank you. But I’ve not yet purchased yarn or whittled any wood. Still thinking.
One recent afternoon, I even found myself at Lansing’s venerable Eldery Instruments in the banjo section. I’d just seen Steve Martin and Martin Short in Detroit a few days before and have always loved the way Steve Martin plays the banjo. His Covid-time Instagram post was my inspiration, and as everyone knows, inspiration is all it really takes to be a competent banjoer.
“What can I help you with?” asked a nice older man sitting inside the front door.
“Well, I’m thinking about learning to play the banjo,” I said. “I’ve never played, but I think I’d like to, and I’m wondering if you rent banjos so I could try it out.”
“Yeah, we don’t rent banjos anymore, but we have a lot of great beginner banjos for you to look at.”
He called over a salesman who was an expert in banjos and a player himself to walk me through selecting my new instrument.
I was immediately out over my skis (another hobby idea). For a good number of minutes, the salesman held up and showed me various banjo models, describing the differences in great detail. He explained which would be good for beginners, and why some banjos are for Bluegrass style and others are for Clawhammer style.
“What style did Steve Martin play in that Instagram video?” I asked.
“Clawhammer,” he said.
“Right, of course. Right.” I replied.
He continued his showroom tour, and I continued my nodding along.
“Yes.” “Right.” “Of course.” All while thinking, “Dude, what?”
He wrapped up his spiel and then really laid it on me. “Do you want to try one out?” he asked.
“Oh, hell no!” I thought. “No thanks. Not today,” I said.
Try it out?! Right here? In the store? I don’t think I’ve ever even picked up a banjo. I’m going to try one out right here? Nope.
Plus, I’m the guy who once bought a used motorboat off the side of a northern Michigan highway having never captained anything faster than a canoe.
That guy offered me a chance to test drive the boat before I bought it, too. (Do you drive a boat? I still don’t know.) Why on earth would I do that, I thought. And let you know that I have zero idea what I’m doing? No thanks. I’m going to buy this boat. Then, I’ll test drive it when no one is watching.
I easily could’ve gone the same route with the banjo, but when I finally turned around one of the little price tags dangling from the neck of a beginner model, I had my out.
“You know. You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’m going to go home and do a little more research online, and I’ll be back. Thank you for your time.”
In case you’re wondering, as I sit here typing today, I am still not a banjoer. It was also never my intention to write about hobbies again. Although, I’m now about 600 words in and maybe my new hobby is writing about the hobbies I don’t have.
No, my plan in sitting down to write this quasi-regular column was to share two leadership tactics I recently read about and plan on trying to implement in the new year. I bet you didn’t see that coming! And brace yourselves, Resch Strategies team.
If I do have a hobby, it’s not finishing leadership/self-help books. My bookshelf is littered with titles I impetuously bought after reading a book review or listening to a podcast interview. I keep them all in my boathouse.
I really don’t like these kinds of books. I either find the advice too easy and obvious, or much too hard and inconvenient. The tipping point usually comes a few chapters in before I put them down on a side table in my house. There they sit, for a year sometimes, eliciting guilt from me whenever I walk by. It’s my atomic habit.
But this recent book I read was different. I finished it.
It was written about the coaching philosophies of the men who have led the men’s and women’s soccer programs at the university where my oldest son is enrolled to attend next fall. Collectively, the programs have won 17 national soccer championships at the Division 3 level since 2000, making Messiah University the most successful college soccer program in the country.
The book it explains the seven principles of team building and success the coaches and players have religiously followed for nearly three decades.
The principles are all good. Things like “pursuing a higher purpose,” “being intentional in everything,” and “cultivating team chemistry.” But two little tactics in the “team chemistry” chapter jumped out at me and at this time in life.
First, “mean no offense, take no offense.” The author explains, “Teammates are to say nothing and do nothing that undermines one another, and on the receiving end, they’re not to interpret comments or actions as personal attacks. The default assumption is that no one in this program does anything to harm or disparage anyone else – so don’t do it and don’t hear it that way.”
Maybe a high bar for Twitter, but in a family, small business, successful professional organization or, God-forbid, politics? Maybe a bar worth aiming for.
The Resch Strategies team goes curling!
Second, “forced family fun.” Or, the idea that relationships take time and time requires commitment and consistency. Being together as a team and doing things together as a team makes a team stronger. It demonstrates how each person fits in, how his or her role is important, and how each person’s presence and performance is necessary for the team to be successful.
Two pretty simple ideas. Yet, in today’s world of online rancor and pandemic-era office hours, two ideas that can sometimes feel as difficult to pull off as learning to play the banjo Clawhammer style from watching a YouTube video.
Nonetheless, two ideas for 2025 I think are worth giving a try. With or without a test drive.
P.S. This last Saturday afternoon, my wife signed up our family to attend and participate in a local “Wreaths Across America” event. Hosted at the “Little Arlington” section of Lansing’s Evergreen Cemetery, it was a new and humbling experience for me. After a short ceremony with the presentation of colors, the singing of the National Anthem, the recitation of the Pledge, a brief message from the mayor, and a 21-gun salute, participants – maybe 100 of us in all – were invited to lay Christmas wreaths on the grave markers of U.S. servicemen and women.
Our family has established a tradition in recent years of attending the local Memorial Day ceremony at the tiny Norwood Township Cemetery down the road from our cottage up North. It is always a quiet, solemn and moving reminder of the sacrifice paid by our American veterans. If looking for such a reminder around Christmas time next year, look up your local “Wreaths Across America” event. It will be worth your time.
P.P.S. “It could be Mary in a burka,” she said.
This is my wife referring to the clay nativity my two boys “sculpted” as part of their respective elementary school careers. The idea is actually a pretty great one. The boys’ art teacher at the time thought each year her class could sculpt a different character from the Christmas nativity. By the time each student finished their time in elementary school, each would have a full set to display in their homes for Christmas.
A lovely and creative sentiment, but one that does not take into account the perilous journey each sculpted character still needed to make from school to home riding in a child’s backpack.
One wonders if Mary would have made it to Bethlehem if instead of a donkey she relied on getting her transportation from a 7-year old navigating the school pick-up line.
A good number of our family’s characters never made it to the mantle. Even more tragic when you consider we have two boys and therefore two nativity sets of characters to pull from to make a full set.
We lost our family’s Mary in a horrible kiln accident, ala Fawn Liebowitz.
Mary, did you know that a shepherd in a head scarf has become our “Mary in a burka?”
P.P.P.S. Lastly, really, as the holiday spirit seems to have really fueled the word count here.
I was driving through Fort Wayne, IN last weekend on my way home from a horribly-time, early December, outdoor soccer tournament, and I came up behind a car with a vanity license plate that read, “SNTA KLS.”
“Santa Kills?” I thought. “That seems pretty dark.”
I came up alongside the car and saw a plain-clothed, off-duty Kris Kringle – big white beard and all – driving along.
“Ah, Santa Claus. Not Santa Kills. That makes more sense,” I said to myself.
People often complain about how stressful “the holidays” can be.
“Damn straight, Santa kills!” seems to be sentiment.
Here’s to putting the Claus into Christmas. Jolly, generous and grateful… and last seen speeding north on I-69.