A Gratitude List

Thank-you-word-cloud

Dear Will:

Two or three weeks ago, my wife and I invited the kids to help us make a list of the things we’re thankful for. After writing down 100 or so, we left the pad of paper out and invited everyone in the family to add to the list as we counted down the days until Thanksgiving. I thought it might be fun to share with you some of the items on the final list we came up with:

Luke, Bryn, and Seth (our kids)
Dana (my wife)
Barnum (the dog)
Gordon B. Hinckley (the Prophet)
Animals
Grass
Saturday soccer games
Cookies—especially warm ones
Gaynor Mindens (ballet shoes)
Memories
Swings
A good bed
Shelter
Chip & Pounce (stuffed animals)
Ballet
Books and stories
Health
Insects
Trees
Computers
The Book of Mormon
The beach
Electric lights
The Temple
Sports
Good music
Mountain lakes
Friends
The Olympics
Good theater
Sunrises & sunsets
The USA
Colors
Colorado
Scriptures
Toys
Hot showers
Thomas Jefferson
Money
Grandparents
Photographs
The UCLA Bruins
The rumba (don’t ask)
The Armed Forces
Rainforests
Rainstorms
Family time
Eyes
The stars & moon
School
Good food in abundance
Swimming pools
Games
Water
Laughter
Flush toilets
Abraham Lincoln
Libraries
Paper
Candy
Taking walks with Bryn
Thanksgiving
Good movies
Doctors
A peaceful neighborhood
Down comforters
Hot chocolate
Puffy clouds
Markers
Grateful kids
Tumbleweeds
Flapjacks
Vacation
Words
Playing ball with Seth
Best friends
Really cool rocks

As you might guess, the full list also includes a lot of our favorite people, including neighbors, teachers, and friends.

Isn’t it great to be reminded each November to take time to notice the things we are most grateful for? Hope you enjoyed a terrific Thanksgiving.

PW

The Virtuous Banana Split

Dear Will:

Today Seth and I were tooling around in the family Camry when we passed an ice cream shop. “Dad,” he said, “I think we should go get some ice cream at Baskin 31 Robbins.” So I wasn’t surprised when I got home from work to discover that he had charmed his mom into having the whole family pick up Bryn from her class at the ballet studio—with a detour on the way home.

It’s actually a good idea—and not just because a family outing to 31 Flavors makes eating a banana split seem, well, virtuous somehow. I don’t know about you, but I can tell you that around here we spend way too much time getting things done and not nearly enough goofing off together. And we’re trying to do something about it.

So tomorrow we’re going to occupy five really bad seats near the upper reaches of Angels Stadium. More bonus points for our side. We’ll stop at In-N-Out on the way there (an inspired family tradition if you ask me) and spend much of the evening fending off requests for cotton candy. Part of the time we may even watch the game. It will be great. Good for us for sure.

We’re not always this good and messing around, of course. Earlier this week I sent my wife an email suggesting that we go to the theater next week. (I know what you’re thinking: “Nothing’s more romantic than being asked out by email!”) What ensued was the following exchange:

Dana: I’m pooped. I don’t want anything else on my schedule.

Peter: I’m pooped too. How about a date on which we simply go upstairs and take a nap?

Dana: You’re on.

So you see, my kids are fighting an uphill battle in their quest to lighten up Mom and Dad and inject a little more silliness into our day-to-day. Perhaps as a measure of how things are going we should install some sort of Giggle-o-meter somewhere in the family room that measures how often and how intensely we’re having fun. If it doesn’t record enough giggles in a given week it automatically rents a movie and hides the vacuum cleaner. If I could figure out how to make such a contraption work, I could make a killing. I’m guessing it would be a huge gift item on Fathers’ Day.

So let me ask you: What are you doing to goof off this weekend? Will it involve more giggling than vacuuming? If not, may I suggest ice cream and a trip to Blockbuster.

But enough of this. Seth is challenging me to play Animal Rummy with him. Sounds like an offer I can’t—or at least shouldn’t—refuse.

PW

Talking to People Like Me

Dear Will:

I’ve got some exciting news that nevertheless fills me with dread. About an hour ago (it’s 6:30 a.m. right now), a press release went out announcing that my company, Thumbworks, has been acquired by the French company In-Fusio. Now unless you pay close attention to the quirky world of wireless application development (games primarily), you’re not likely to read about the acquisition while you’re eating your Post Toasties, but for us it’s really big news.

Three of us started Thumbworks a little less than three years ago. We had little more than a line of credit and an extremely vague notion of what we were going to do to make money to feed our babies. It’s amazing to me that in such a short time we would have an enterprise that someone else would be willing to pay for. Kinda cool, huh?

The catch, of course, is that my job now gets really serious and complicated. In-Fusio has been extremely successful in Europe and China, but their efforts to penetrate the North American market have been, shall we say, underwhelming. That’s where Thumbworks comes in. In-Fusio hopes that we can become their North American operation and establish them as one of the major players in the United States. I’m already finding out that that translates into lots of meetings and travel for me, and lots of people looking on with anticipation, expecting that their problems here in the US are now solved. (Gulp.)

Next week I’ll be flying to the Bordeaux headquarters to meet a lot of people and begin the hard task of integrating our companies. It all sounds very exotic, of course, at least until you start to calculate the impact of a one week business trip. I’ll miss coaching Seth’s basketball team, miss Luke’s first week at a new school, and probably not get a whole lot of productive work done—meaning that when I get home, I’ll be even farther behind. That trip will be followed by at least four or five others over the next couple of months (thankfully not across the ocean), so I expect my family to feel some strain as I get my arms around my expanded responsibilities. I’m worried about how we will all handle the increased workload. I’m not, I think you know, the sort of guy who thinks a job is in any way more important than my family.

So we’ll take it slow and see how it goes. I must keep reminding myself to turn off the laptop and help Bryn with her homework, read a book to Seth, take Luke to the movies, rub my wife’s tired feet. I must make sure that when I’m home, I’m home, engaged in family activities so that the new job enhances our life rather than destroying it. That won’t be easy, I know, but it’s helpful to tell a friend about it now to help me remember as the piles of work continue to mount higher and higher.

I think it was David O. McKay who said: “No success can compensate for failure in the home.” My guess is that when he uttered those words he was talking to people like me.

PW