The Risk One Takes

I published my “Guide to Motorcycle Boots” in January. It has gotten a lot of visits, especially since Larry linked to it from hotboots.com and featured it for about a month from his home page. Thanks, Larry — I have received about 1,000 unique visitors each day, many of whom are coming from the hotboots website. Well that, an also a couple of motorcycle enthusiast websites that have linked to it, as well.

The risk I took in posting that Guide is that the President of a company that sells motorcycle boots found my site and noticed that I did not mention that company’s boots in the Guide. She expressed her disappointment that the boots were not included.

I replied to her, and said, “yes, it’s true, I am aware of your boots but I do not own any, so I wrote the Guide based on my own experience.” I then offered to include a mention of her company’s boots if she would respond to several technical questions about the soles and boot construction. I explained that I thought the soles were made of soft rubber which can leave melt-marks on hot motorcycle pipes. I asked her about the construction of the boots. Goodyear welt? Leather lining? Thickness of the leather? Origin of the leather? I also asked her to describe or defend my perception of value. The boots seemed to be priced rather expensively compared with other motorcycle boots of the same height and style made by others. Could she defend the pricing based on quality of materials and construction?

I have not received a reply (yet). It’s been over a month, so I don’t expect to receive one. She learned that I know a thing or two about boots and the questions to ask. By her failure to reply, it indicates to me that perception is reality: the boots are overpriced and use materials of lesser quality. I’m still willing to change my perception, but she has to answer my email. Failure to do that results in no change (of my motorcycle boot review page or my mind.)

The point of this post is to read things like my tutorials carefully. If something or a particular manufacturer’s product(s) are not mentioned, there may be a reason for that — or I simply may have overlooked it. But it’s more likely that I don’t say something for a reason. If you wonder why, just ask.

Another Awards Dinner-Dance?

Oh cripes, it’s that time of year. Invitations for Spring events are coming in from all these groups. Non-profit organizations, political groups, alumni groups, social groups. The invitations all seem to say the same thing, year after year after year:

  • Come to our spectacular event, where you can see [so-and-so who you probably don’t know]
  • And tickets are a donation of oooonly [insert US$ astronomical sum]
  • But wait! There’s more! for ooooonly [insert double US$ astronomical sum], you can come to the special VIP pre-event reception and meet [so-and-so] in person!
  • Enjoy great [don’t insert ‘rubber chicken’] cuisine and fine [plastic bottled] wine with a terrific [still frozen] desert!
  • Applaud [way too may long-winded] award-winners!
  • And remember, it’s for [insert name of great cause that you already donate to anyway]
  • Get there early to participate in our [who’d wanna pay anything for that?] silent auction!
  • And plan to get your groove on with [insert name of band no one has ever heard of] for a night of dancing!

Uggghhhh… these fundraising events labeled awards-dinner-dances are prolific, at least in my neck of the woods. Not that I am “Mr. Popular,” but I have received invitations so far for 6 of these events in April, 9 in May, and 7 in June, with more coming. AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!

BTW, did I mention before that I can’t dance and hate trying to? Did I mention that my partner, Mr. Recluse, hates these things more than I do, so it’s our agreement that I don’t even mention them?

While personally I would like to blow off all of these things, there are some events that I can’t avoid for various reasons. I’m on the Board of Directors, or they’re giving me some some token of appreciation, or someone bought me the ticket, or I am presenting an award, etc., etc. On comes the monkey suit, the smile turns upside down, and off I go.

But why must they include a band and dancing? I figure that I’m not the only one who gets tired and just wants to go home. But some of the organizers actually think that people like to dance. And seeing those old grey-haired farts shaking [insert name of body parts] on a dance floor is, well, not a pretty sight. (There are so many other things I could say, but I’m restraining myself.)

Oh well, such is life. I promise, as soon as the last award is presented and the last long-winded speech ends, I’m outta there…

Such is my life — the life of a non-dancing guy who would much rather just be home, in bed.

What’s Your Passion?

I attended a conference last year that was focused on motorcycling. We were handed cards and were asked to write what our “spark,” or passion, was that got us excited about motorcycling on the card and share it with another conference participant.

That question extends to my own life in all the things I am involved with. Here are my passions:

* My partner
* My family
* My friends

Well, these are common passions for most folks. Here are more things about which I am passionate:

* My community. I am passionate about where I live, how we live, how we manage growth, infrastructure, and sustainability of our environment. I speak out, I get involved, I cajole, persuade, pester… as a local civic activist volunteer.

* Neighbors and residents of my community. Advocating for their needs, helping them out, providing service, fixing stuff, protecting them from shams and con-artists.

* Providing workforce housing. Cops, teachers, firefighters, nurses: these community heroes often can’t afford to live in the county where they work. It has been my passion to try to help out in that regard, as best I can, anyway.

* Motorcycling. The freedom, exhilaration, fun, excitement. Man, nothing quite describes the feeling one has when you’re out on the open road with a group of fellow bikers, enjoying the scenes, scents, and sounds.

* Justice. I rail against social injustices that I observe, and try to right them. Rally folks to the cause. Make things better, one step at a time.

* Intelligence. You might look at this in a number of ways — from railing at dumb-dumbs who abandon shopping carts in handicapped parking spots or who drop trash wherever they damn well please, to having a spirited conversation and exchange of ideas, to having the desire to study to become a U.S. citizen, to acting and behaving with common sense. I’m not talking about “book smarts” as much as I am talking about people thinking before they act, and acting with intelligence.

* Honor and Integrity. No need to explain that. I just am passionate about these values and practice them every day.

* Smiles. Lighten up, folks! Oh my gosh, so many grim faces I see every day (probably because they’re stuck in suits and ties). S-M-I-L-E!

So, what’s missing from the list?

* Boots — that is my avocation. Hobby. Fun thing to talk about, wear, build websites and blogs about… sure, I enjoy boots but I’m not wrapped (or warped) 24/7 about them.

* Leather — same goes with leather, too. A waning avocation. (Waning in the sense that I’ve grown beyond leather fetishism as I’ve blogged often about.)

Some other things are missing from the list, too, such as sports, television, movies and the dramatic arts, and stuff like that. There’s just so much time in the day, and I choose to dedicate my time to my passions. I am just not that passionate about these things as some others may be.

So, what’s YOUR passion? (Thanks to my eighth brother for inspiring this blog post)

The Real Deal

After my conference ended yesterday afternoon, I met a guy who is visiting DC from California for dinner. This is the best time of year to visit DC, before Spring break. Come mid-March and especially around the beginning of April when the cherry trees are in bloom, all hell breaks loose. It is crowded in all the museums and other tourist venues until the end of August.

My visitor wrote to me after seeing my website. He is a young guy who is interested in leather and had some questions. He said that he has visited a number of websites that some other gay guys have posted, either on their own or on geocities. He remarked that many of these sites had not been updated, sometimes for years. He complimented me that I kept attending to my website. He also talked about how he noticed that most gay men’s websites delve into fantasy and you really can’t tell much about the guy, other than perhaps about his ego. It’s very hard to tell if any of the content on some gay guy’s websites is truthful. I have noticed that, too.

My visiting dinner companion paid me the biggest compliment: “when I saw your website and read all the content on it about your passions and interests, I could tell that you are ‘the real deal,’ and I wanted to write to you.” That he did. We exchanged some messages, then met for a nice, relaxing dinner at a restaurant with outdoor tables. It was such a pleasant evening.

I really enjoyed having dinner with J, and discussing a lot of things. I hope he has a good time being a tourist in DC. I appreciate his review and comments about me and my website. It’s true: WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get). And due to the very nice weather yesterday, I was able to ride my Harley to show him that side of me too: boots, leather, and the bike. Couldn’t have been a nicer evening.

Do You Need Some Ice, Sir?

I am attending a conference sponsored by the organization I work for. The conference is being held in a hotel in Washington, DC. It got rather warm today outside (about 70°F, 21°C). Since I would much rather be riding my Harley, I compromised. I rode my Harley to the conference, since I’m staying at home and not in the hotel.

Today it got hot inside the hotel. They weren’t expecting outdoor air temperatures to get so warm this time of year, so they did not have cooling on inside.

Our big boss expects all of the staff to wear a suit — “business attire” — throughout the conference. Bleccchhh. Oh well, I do what I have to do. (Don’t worry, though, I still had boots on. I really don’t own any shoes.)

After an uncomfortable morning, sitting there in a shirt and tie but with the jacket casually draped across the back of my chair, the boss noticed and “suggested” that I keep my jacket on. I looked around, and noticed that most men who were dressed up had their jackets on. Well, since I was “asked…”.

In the early afternoon, I was sitting in the back of a room observing a meeting, and felt rather clammy. I looked down at the front of my shirt, and noticed that it was all wet with sweat. As I was noticing this, a colleague came up to me and asked, “are you okay?” He said that my face was all red and there was a lot of sweat on my forehead.

I stood up and removed my jacket. I discovered to my dismay that my shirt was completely drenched in sweat. Then I was even more shocked to see that I had sweat stains below the waist. I was burning up!

I left the meeting and went to a more private area to try to cool off. My colleague was very worried about me, and came with me. He was suggesting that perhaps I needed to go to a doctor, as I was still sweating like crazy. A hotel staff person walked by, looked at me, and asked, “do you need some ice, sir?” I said “yes!”

I sat there for about an hour drinking ice water and cooling down. I put an ice pack on the back of my neck and on each wrist. Eventually, I cooled off. Another colleague loaned me a dry shirt, and I recomposed myself to finish out the day.

I don’t know how men do it — wear a jacket, shirt, and tie all day. I just can’t. I figure my reaction was a combination of the heat inside the building, my strong discomfort in the clothing I had to wear, and my concern about the situation causing me to react.

Tomorrow — shirt, but no undershirt. Lighter pants. Lighter jacket (I only have two, so what I have will have to do). And I will carry that blasted jacket and only put it on when I see the big boss.

It’s odd that I can wear leather and not get so overheated. But close up my neck with a stupid necktie and smother me in a suit jacket, and something goes flooky in my mind or something. Uggghhh… three more days of this. Wish me luck!

Posted in Job

Weary of Financial Advice

It seems that everywhere you turn, advice on dealing with personal finances flows. From news stories on television and talk radio to ads in the media, everyone is advising how to save money in “these tough economic times.”

I grow weary of it all. However, I realize that most folks have little financial discipline. They carry huge debt, don’t save, and live paycheck to paycheck.

I think what set me off on this rant was an interview that I watched on TV news recently while preparing dinner. The interviewer was speaking with a young married couple who have a small child. They live in a typical middle-class neighborhood. Both parents work. The child’s grandmother provides daycare.

Okay, all well-and-good. Then the woman chimes in, “oh, I save a lot of money now by changing what we do for dinner. Instead of going out to eat as often, I stop by (insert name of fast-food chain here) and bring dinner home!” Like she discovered penicillin, the extols the “virtues” of bringing take-out home to eat. Does anyone besides me see what’s wrong with this picture?

The interviewer compounded the aggravation of the silly story by complimenting her on her choice to “eat at home more often.” And then the yuppie Dad says, “and I can even have leftovers to snack on later.” Oh, puhleeze….

I heard a report on the radio that people are changing their habits about lunch. Yep, instead of going to a restaurant every day, some buy … you get it … fast food and bring it back to the office.

Throughout mainstream media, reporters tend to miss the mark entirely. All of the “advice” that I hear is not helpful, and actually promotes some really bad and expensive things to do.

For my partner and me, our views are different. Perhaps it is because we both are children of parents who lived through the Great Depression. We are frugal, but not cheap. For example, we always eat a home-cooked meal every evening. We do something that seems to be unusual (at least as far as main stream media observes): we go to the grocery store once a week and stock up on foods that we use to prepare a well-balanced meal for dinner AND for lunch AND for breakfast that we pack to take to work each day.

We believe in having breakfast, though with our schedules, we bring breakfast to work and eat it upon arrival. And for three meals a day, seven days a week, we are spending about US$100 per week on a full range of fresh vegetables, meats, poultry, fish, and other goods. That’s about an average of US$2.38 for each well-balanced meal for two adults.

I should say, though, that my partner’s “avocation” or interest in grocery stores helps here. He cuts coupons, and when we prepare our shopping list, he reviews the store’s weekly ad for what’s on sale and matches sales with coupons. By using the store’s loyalty card (which gets you the “sale” prices) and coupons, we save an average of US$50 every single week on our groceries. Seriously — that much. The investment of time in reviewing the ad, making a list, matching coupons is definitely worth it.

And don’t get me started when all the yuppies start yapping about not going to Starsucks “every” day — that they’ve “cut back” to fewer visits each week. I bring a can of Coke Zero to work with me in the morning for my morning Caffeine shot, and drink water throughout the day otherwise.

Another thing has bothered me is all the advice on saving on utilities. Suddenly yuppies have “gone green” and are discovering CFLs (compact fluorescent lights). Heck, we’ve used them for over a decade. And if I hear advice to install a programmable thermostat one more time, I’ll scream. We have four such devices for the four separate heating/cooling zones and have had the thermostats and zones since the house was built. We heat or cool only the rooms that we occupy at different times of the day. Our utility bills for heating and cooling are 1/3 what our neighbors are paying.

Don’t even mention about paying down credit card debt. We never carry a balance, thus, we never incur finance charges. My partner and I both think the same way: only charge what you can pay for when the bill comes due. We use credit cards, but only for major ticket items or for internet purchases — but not for small charges. We still pay cash for most in-person transactions, including groceries. It’s a well-researched fact that when you spend cash, you’re less likely to spend as much. With plastic, you never really “see” the money.

Well, now you know my “secret.” I have never adopted — in fact I have strongly rejected — the yuppie outlook on personal finances. Or in other words, my partner and I still hold true to the values our parents taught us. We save for a rainy day, we don’t carry debt, and we buy only what we can afford and pay for.

So thanks anyway, Suze or whoever… we’re doin’ just fine. Go help those yuppie-wanna-be’s out there who have their financial house in disarray and priorities out of order.

Boot Goal Realized

After receiving two pairs of patrol boots that I had always wanted last week, and then finding a place to store them when not on my feet, I saw that my storage areas were almost filled. I also realized that my goals for motorcycle boots were completed.

That’s it… as far as I can foresee, the motorcycle boot acquisitions are done.

I have one more space to fill, with a pair of Olathe Buckaroo Boots that I saw at Kleinschmidt’s last year… and whenever that happens, I’m done. Seriously.

My partner is taking bets, though, and the current odds are 10:1 that my 2009 “boot acquisition prediction” will not hold. Care to get in on the bet?

Banish Ties!

My partner said this morning as we were getting ready to go to work, “you look nice!” as he looked at me in a shirt and tie, dress slacks, and boots, of course. (I don’t own any shoes, nor will I.)

I should be happy with receiving a compliment. He is always so supportive in so many ways.

But I just h-a-t-e neckties. I really do. I always have. I don’t like how they look. I can’t stand how they feel. Even with a properly-fitted shirt, wearing a tie still makes me feel like I’m being bound. And I am definitely not into bondage whatsoever.

My statement about feeling “bound” is a metaphor. Perhaps my feelings of revulsion toward neckties has more to do with how I rebel against conformity. I have strongly resisted being forced through society’s pressures to conform to a certain style of dress, manners of behavior, ways of being. I see a necktie more than anything else as a symbol of conforming to society’s old-fashioned pressures.

Alas, I love my job. Part of keeping that job is having to go along with what the boss wants, and what the employer expects. After all, I was recently promoted to a fairly high level position. That promotion was based mostly on what I know and what I can do, but I know they wouldn’t have put me in that position if I did not conform to their expectations of dress when we meet with people from outside the organization, or our organization’s members.

Thank goodness they don’t extend those expectations to footwear. Seriously, if somehow they insisted that I had to wear dress shoes, I probably would quit. But my boots are shined, look fine with pants over, and not a one of my co-workers or bosses have said anything about what’s on my feet.

Yesterday when I facilitated a meeting with law enforcement leaders, I had to wear a shirt & tie. Fortunately, I could do the symbolic thing of wearing a jacket in the first moments of the meeting, then taking it off and placing it on the back of a chair. Most other men did the same, except for a few. There are always a few — like my twin brother — who wear a jacket and tie and say they like it. Poor fellas….

As the meeting went on and I was becoming very “engaging” (or some say “hyperactive”) to maintain attention, the tie was loosened and the top button was undone. Again, this is acceptable during a meeting… to loosen up as it progresses, particularly if you’re running around as I do when I facilitate a meeting. (Some call me the equivalent of a game show host as active as I am during a meeting.)

Today, I have a meeting at a federal agency, so once again, I had to put on a tie and have a jacket with me. I put the tie on at home, and wore it to work. But as I was catching up on my morning email, I just felt more and more confined, restrained, and restricted. My usual free-flow morning creativity was just gone. I had to finish writing a proposal, but my thoughts weren’t gelling. This was serious!

So I reached up and yanked the tie off, and unbuttoned my collar. I stepped out to get some water and take a short walk around the office. When I returned ten minutes later, I was in a completely different state of mind. The rest of that proposal just flowed from my brain to the fingers on my keyboard. I think it’s a winner — and all because I took that damn tie off.

I know, some of the readers of this blog (hey, Maf) think suits & boots are an enjoyable appearance. I’ve heard that from others. That’s fine, I am glad you enjoy it. I just don’t. I never have. Yuck. Just ask my twin brother: I got the “jeans” genes, and he got the “suit” genes.

I know it’s all in my head. But that’s just how I am. Men’s neckties should be banished from the world. We all would be more comfortable, too.

Posted in Job

What the Sheriff Said

I facilitated a meeting today at my office in which several county sheriffs, police chiefs, and their respective staffs participated. It was a worthwhile and interesting meeting.

In honor of the law enforcement officials coming to the meeting, I wore my new All American Patrol Boots that I received last week to the office. The boots were great for a number of reasons. They have lug soles for traction on the icy sidewalks outside; they look great, and almost “shoe-like”; and they are very comfortable so as I am walking around facilitating the meeting, standing for hours, my feet don’t hurt.

Several of the attendees arrived early. I talked with them as they got their coffee and settled into a seat. I noticed one county sheriff wearing a uniform with Dehner bal-laced patrol boots. Before I could say anything, he came up to me and said, “Are those Dehners?” I said, “no, these are made by All American.”

“Never heard of ’em, tell me more.” We had a nice, long conversation about tall patrol boots. Several of the other sheriffs and chiefs joined in the conversation. I had to control myself when he asked, “how tall, lift your pants?” … which I did. Then “cool! Those are nice! Where can I get them? How much did they cost? Are they comfortable? Do you wear them when you ride [your motorcycle]?”

Wow… who woulda thunk. And this is my job! (Actually, in providing full disclosure, I am not a sworn peace officer. I work with law enforcement officials among other local leaders for various activities that I do at my place of employment.) What a nice way to begin a meeting!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

My Dad would have been 98 years old today. Happy birthday, Dad! I know you’re up there thinking about me… and your family.

I didn’t have much time with him — not as much as my older siblings, anyway. Not because he didn’t spend time with all of us, but because he died when I was 12 years old.

My Dad was a diplomat, both at his profession and at home. He was quiet, but we knew what he liked, and didn’t. He liked his kids to get along… so my sister had to stop pulling my hair in the car as we drove cross-country. (Yeah, right… one reason why I drove with Mom more often.)

Dad liked order, but wasn’t rigid. For example, when it was time for dinner, all of us had to be seated, napkin in our lap, and wait until he served himself before we could serve ourselves, pass the bowl, make sure everyone had everything, then begin to eat. But the conversation around the table was loud, raucous, and we often talked over one another. Dad loved it when everyone asked questions, talked about the news of the day, added on to the other’s thoughts, and shared. I often remember watching him sit back from his chair at the table and just watch all of us be a family. I could tell he was very proud.

My Dad loved to get a small boat out onto the reservoir and pretend to fish. He had all the equipment, but it was evident to us if we got to go with him that he just wanted to sit and enjoy the serenity. “Don’t scare away the fish!” was a common expression to get us kids to shut up. I learned from that … what serenity was … and to be patient while being peaceful. That’s a hard lesson for a kid to learn!

I recall two incidents that mortified me, but later became the stories that the family brings up as adults at the most inopportune times. One was the time that Dad took a sister and me with an aunt visiting from Oklahoma to the reservoir, just to walk around on a nice Spring morning. He showed her the boat, and I hopped onto it. He asked me to get out, which I did. But then the boat began to float away, so I reached to grab the rope — and you guessed it — I overreached and fell into the water. Everyone was highly amused except me (at the time).

Another time was when Dad had docked the boat and asked me to lock it up. I did that diligently. Then he asked me to hand him the keys. I got cute and tossed the keys at him — and the keys went into the water. I never could throw anything. The car keys were on that ring. Oh gosh… what a mess. Dad tried fishing with a stick to find them, but no luck. It was getting dark, and we couldn’t see. He walked about a mile to use a phone to call his brother to bring us the spare keys. Man, I was in the doghouse for a week.

Being in the “doghouse” meant, to us, having to live with knowing that we had disappointed our father. It was a horrible feeling, because we knew how much he loved us, and how much he cared. He would never yell, scream, curse, or lay a hand on us, even if we messed up. He would just give us “that look”… and we knew. He taught us what “expectations” were, what “standards” were, and how to try to achieve having a good life every day by demonstrating how he lived to the standards he set for us.

Dad would read with us. He would speak in other languages with us, and encourage us to learn about the world. His world was huge. He even helped us have the most creative “show-and-tell” experiences while we were in school, with real people!

One more story about Dad, in closing. He so loved my Mom. I could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, and in the many things he did for her every day. One night, after he thought we all were in bed, I heard some waltz music. I looked out over the banister, and saw Dad dancing with Mom, then gave her a big kiss when the song ended. Just the the two of them. Their love was complete, solid, and strong.

Well, Happy Birthday, Dad! I miss you, am thinking of you, and love you very much. I try today to live as a man that you wanted me to be. I always cherish your memories, your devotion to family, your solid work ethic, and most of all, your love.

Remember, life is short: if you are fortunate enough to still have your Dad around, let him know you care. Pay a visit, give a call. Show those you love that you love ’em.