Hooked on a feeling
Twitter isn’t someplace I’d ever want to live, but it is an interesting place to visit and I recently came across a tweet that really resonated with me.
Jason Matheson is right, and there are three key words in his tweet: 1) stakeholders; 2) inspire and 3) action.
I’d contend that most communication – both the strategic and tactical pieces of it – should move the target audience to take some type of action. Otherwise, what’s the point?
The best communication moves us to act without us even realizing it.
I’ve always loved the section in Simon Sinek’s “Start With Why” where he discusses Apple’s approach to marketing. Apple, of course, wants us to buy their products. So does Budweiser. And Chrysler. But their best pitches to us, as consumers, attempt to connect with us on an emotional level. They tell us who they are so we can decide whether or not we want to engage with them. In those instances, they don’t even have to make a direct ask. We’ll go looking for them. Why? Because, as Seth Godin wrote, “people like us do things like this.”
A couple of my favorite examples …
In the depths of the Great Recession, Chrysler released a Super Bowl spot that featured Eminem and did a great job of conveying both the despair and resilience of the city of Detroit at the time. The country, and particularly that city, was hurting and this ad tapped into that without ever asking us to buy a car. Anyone (like me) who grew up in the Detroit area or has lived there for any length of time, was touched by that commercial. That ad is a decade old and it still hits me.
Steve Jobs was a marketing genius. Apple’s marketing strategies under Jobs were always more about the message than the product itself. He knew that if the message was effective and the product was good, the customers would follow. Apple developed a loyal customer base, yes, because the products were amazing, but also because the company positioned itself in a way that made their customers feel something. A direct ask to purchase wasn’t necessary.
When we’re trying to inspire someone to action – to buy something from us, to donate money to our cause, to vote for us, to marry us, to attend our university – connecting on a personal and emotional level is essential.
We make most of our decisions based on how we think something will make us feel. We want to feel part of the group. We want to feel happy. We want to feel free. We want to feel loved. We want to feel safe and secure.
As leaders, marketers, teachers, coaches or communications professionals, our top priority should be content – written or spoken words, video or graphics – that connects emotionally with our audience so they are inspired to take the action we want them to take.
The audience will follow closely behind.
Eating the elephant
So, how are your New Year’s resolutions going?
If you’ve forgotten or abandoned them, you’re not alone. Research has shown that 80 percent of them fail, many within the first few weeks of January.
My theory is that resolutions fail because there are simply too many of them. I think sometimes we want to change the world with one swing of the bat and, sticking with the baseball analogy, we end up fouling off pitches instead of connecting solidly.
There’s a great piece of advice in Brent Gleeson’s highly readable book “Taking Point: A Navy Seal’s 10 Fail-Safe Principles for Leading Through Change.” We have a tendency sometimes to want to tackle everything at once. Gleeson advises that we “eat the elephant one bite at a time.”
I tried something last year. When the calendar flipped to 2020, I resolved to meditate more consistently. I’ve practiced meditation pretty regularly, mostly on, sometimes off, for more than 15 years. But, in all that time, I had never really committed to practicing EVERY. DAY. So, I tried it.
The app that I use as a timer tells me that today is the 210th consecutive day that I have meditated. Some days for as little as five minutes. Over the past several weeks I have sat in meditation for 25 minutes every morning. For the purposes of this blog, however, the amount of time isn’t important. The commitment to daily meditation is.
You know what else is important? I missed a day during the middle of last summer and, instead of giving up and declaring myself to be a failure, I just resumed the next morning. What’s the saying? Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good.
James Clear’s best selling “Atomic Habits” is all about developing habits that lead to consistent and incremental improvement. Small steps. One of Clear’s best tricks is “habit-stacking.” That means intentionally following an already-good habit with another one you’re trying to develop. I meditate after I brush my teeth. Every morning. Now, it’s automatic.
If you’re still focusing on a resolution or two, keep going. Don’t quit. If you’ve quit your resolutions already, don’t be afraid to re-start. Then re-start again if you have to. And if, on January 15, 2021 you decide to embark upon a path of achievement or improvement, don’t worry that the new year is already under way. Start right where you are.
Tomorrow Never Knows
My daughter was in St. Louis visiting a friend recently and, having not seen her since last Christmas, my wife and I decided to hop in the car and make the 5 ½ hour drive down for a two-hour visit before returning home late the same night.
Lots of driving. Not much to see aside from flat terrain. So, I had to find some way to make the trip more interesting. I opted to listen to all 12 of The Beatles studio albums in order of release. Thankfully, they’re my wife’s favorite band.
If you’re into music and you’ve never listened to an artist’s work straight through like this, try it sometime. The evolution of The Beatles’ catalogue is something to behold. And that’s something that stuck with me after our marathon listening session: The Beatles evolved.
The first song on their first album is “I Saw Her Standing There.”
Well she was just seventeen
You know what I mean
And the way she looked was way beyond compare
Pure, classic, early rock ‘n roll. Great stuff.
Just three years later, however, The Beatles released what some call the greatest record in rock history: “Revolver.” And the last track on that album is a song called “Tomorrow Never Knows” that was ahead of its time in 1966 and, it could be argued, is ahead of our time today as well.
Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream
It is not dying, it is not dying
“Tomorrow Never Knows” must have sounded like it came from another planet, with its far out lyrics and unusual sounds.
How does that happen? (Yes, I know this was a period during which certain members of the band were experimenting with mind-altering substances). How did The Beatles go from great to – almost literally – otherworldly in a span of just three years?
This was a time of great experimentation for the Fab Four and it was their willingness to try something new that helped vault them relentlessly forward. They kept reinventing themselves and, in doing so, forced other artists to keep up with them. Yes, there was a lot of legendary music back then, but I’d argue The Beatles set the pace.
Seth Godin’s book “Footprints on the Moon” contains a little subsection called “Buzzer Management.” In it he writes:
I started the quiz team at my high school. Alas, I didn’t do so well at the tryouts, so I ended up as the coach, but we still made it to the finals.
It took me 30 years to figure out the secret of getting in ahead of the others who also knew the answer (because the right answer is no good if someone else gets the buzz):
You need to press the buzzer before you know the answer.
If the Beatles had never taken a chance – pressed the buzzer before they knew the answer – the truly original work they produced might never have materialized.
We can wait until we’re sure. We can wait until the weather is perfect, the stars are aligned and everything is in place. We can continue doing the same thing because it feels safe.
Or we can get uncomfortable and see what happens when we press the buzzer before everyone else.
Happy Birthday, Bruce!
Bruce Springsteen turns 71 today. Hard to believe.
For a lot of reasons, he’s been my favorite musician since I became a fan in the midst of the frenzy over Born in the USA in 1984. He’d been a rock superstar for nearly a decade, but I was only nine years old when his magnum opus, Born to Run, was released in August of 1975. It wasn’t until I was just out of high school that I began to connect with the stories Bruce was telling through his music.
Thirty-six years later I’m still a big fan.
I love music. Been to plenty of concerts. Enjoy a variety of genres. But no one’s art ever appealed to me the way Bruce’s does. Hearing Born in the USA made me want to hear more. So, once I got to college at Michigan State, I bought all of his previously released studio albums. I also stumbled upon a couple record stores in East Lansing that sold “imported” or “rare” Springsteen albums.
Those “imported” recordings gave me a glimpse into the magic of a live Springsteen show. The more I heard of performances from mysterious places like the Agora Ballroom, the Roxy, Winterland and the Capitol Theatre, the more I wanted to see one myself. I got the chance late in the summer of 1985.
Along with dozens of newfound friends, I slept out overnight on the sidewalk outside of State Discount, a sort of local convenience store in East Lansing that also sold records and concert tickets. My effort paid off with a seat on the floor (17th row) of the Pontiac Silverdome. It was the first of 19 times I’ve seen Springsteen live.
Since that show in 1985, I’ve been lucky enough to see him in Madison, Milwaukee, Chicago, St. Louis, Detroit, Indianapolis, East Rutherford and New York City. The show in Giants Stadium on July 15, 2003 was the first of 10 that he played that summer in that venue. It was a perfect evening.
The last time I saw Bruce live was in March of 2018. I was in New York City for the Big Ten basketball tournament. We lost to Michigan State on Friday afternoon and headed for the airport late in the day only to return to our hotel due to bad weather. We were stuck in the city until Sunday night. I jumped on a computer in the hotel business office, found a single on Stub Hub for more money than I should pay for a concert ticket and ran a few blocks over to the Walter Kerr Theatre for a performance of Springsteen on Broadway. Not surprisingly, it was everything I’d hoped it would be. Bruce never disappoints.
The hallmark of his live shows, aside from the fun and great music, is the community he creates with his performances. For a few hours, thousands of mostly strangers are connected to each other by not only the magic, power, mystery and ministry of rock ‘n roll, but by Bruce’s own energy, passion and commitment to his audience. It’s something to see.
Here’s hoping there’s more to come. Happy Birthday, Bruce!
Don’t Get Fooled Again
A prized piece of my coffee mug collection.
I’ve seen Bruce Springsteen (19 times), Paul McCartney, Prince, John Mellencamp, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Diana Ross, The Eagles, U2, James Taylor, Elton John and many other music legends live, but there was one in particular – The Who -- I had yet to see and time was running out.
So, when the opportunity arose last year, I called my wife’s cousin (a fellow “classic rock” fan) and invited him out from the East Coast to see The Who with me at Alpine Valley Music Theatre in East Troy, Wisconsin. The show was a year ago today.
I’m a bit of an easy sell when it comes to live music. I love it. So, when I can see a legendary group like The Who in person, I’m not going to hold their performance to an extraordinarily high standard. I’m just happy to be there. Heck, Roger Daltry was 75 years old! But I thought the performance was great and they played a number of their iconic songs like “Pinball Wizard,” “Eminence Front,” “I Can See For Miles,” “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” “Behind Blue Eyes,” and, of course, “Baba O’Riley.”
I also had never been to Alpine Valley, in spite of living in southern Wisconsin for 25 years, so it was cool to see a show at that venue.
The Who concert was on a Sunday night. It was raining for at least some of the show. Parking was in the middle of a big field that became muddy from the rain. And, judging from the age of the audience, I didn’t imagine most would be partying into the wee hours of the morning. I’m sure most had to go to work the next day. But I took something else away from that show and it relates to my own work in college athletics: from where I was sitting (under the covered pavilion), barely anyone left before the 22-song set ended.
That’s a challenge we were facing in college sports before the pandemic and it may be an even greater challenge once things are back to “normal.” Organizations that put on live events – sports, concerts, whatever – have to find ways to attract attendees, but also to keep them in their seats.
Sure, you could say, “well, it was The Who, one of the great rock bands of all time. Of course people stuck around til the end.” Maybe so. But the point is they stuck around. Why? For me, it was seeing those legendary musicians and hearing those classic songs. That was enough to keep me there. I didn’t care about beating the traffic out of that dark, muddy lot. I didn’t care that we wouldn’t get home til 1:30 in the morning. The experience connected with me in a way that made all other factors less important. In short, I was having too much fun to leave early.
Attention spans are short these days and customers have a lot of choices. I think people leave events early (unless there’s an emergency) because they prioritize whatever’s next over what they’re doing at the moment. Organizations that do live events need to keep people engaged. Make things fun. Create anticipation. Keep your audience wondering what’s next.
It seems weird to be writing about live events with big crowds right now. But they’ll come back. The pandemic isn’t going to last forever. And, when it’s over, we’re all going to want people sticking around for the whole setlist.
No feeling is final
I can’t decide. Is it “already” August 24 or is it “only” August 24? Maybe it’s both. This year I suppose it depends on your perspective.
I do know this much. The entire cadence of the life I’ve known for 30 years has been interrupted. My career in college athletics has had me tied to the academic/athletics calendar since the fall of 1990.
Fall sports like football, volleyball and soccer transition into winter sports like basketball and hockey before the spring finishes up with baseball, softball and others. There were a few exceptions, but summers usually included a trip to a work-related convention and a family vacation before it was suddenly mid-July again and fall football practice was two weeks away.
It’s been like that since I moved to Marquette, Mich., in August of 1990 to work in the sports information office at Northern Michigan University. It was like that for two and a half years at the University of North Dakota. And it’s been that way since I came to Madison in 1994 to work at the University of Wisconsin. And I’ve loved it.
But as strange as these last six months have been for me and, I know, many others, I’ve learned some things …
I’m more of a DIYer than I ever thought. Since March I have installed about 60 knobs and handles on drawers and cabinets in our house; installed a new kitchen sink faucet; installed a new video doorbell; painted the stairs that lead to our back patio; and installed new smoke alarms. I’m not ready to build a new deck in my backyard, but taking on these small projects instead of putting them off or, in some cases paying someone else to do them, has felt good.
I’ve spent more time on our back patio this summer than maybe the previous 10 summers combined. With less travel and more time at home, it’s been nice to relax back there. I read somewhere recently that this is the case with others, too.
I miss people. I’m accustomed to playing hockey three times a week and have missed that greatly (due in part to meniscus surgery in early July) not only for the exercise but the camaraderie. Working from home is certainly doable, but it can’t measure up to the daily interaction with your colleagues, many of whom are good friends. Needless to say, I’ll miss not being at our athletic events this fall.
This time has allowed me to strengthen good habits like daily meditation and walking. Because my meditation app tracks each day’s session, I know that I’ve sat for 20-30 minutes for all but about five days in 2020. Walks of about 30-40 minutes with my wife this summer have been great, especially as my knee gets back into shape.
A little distraction doesn’t hurt. We got a couple kittens back in early July. They keep us entertained and on our toes. And they don’t know there’s a virus or social upheaval or political division. They’re just happy to run around, wrestle with each other, eat and sleep. Not a bad way to live.
I recently read a quote by an old Austrian poet named Rainer Maria Rilke …
“Let everything happen to you,
Beauty and terror,
Just keep going,
No feeling is final.”
Seems like a good mantra for 2020.
Impermanence
I like searching the internet for new meal recipes and I found one over the weekend and cooked it last night. It was really good, although I’m not sure I got the sauce quite right. Next time …
As I was reading user reviews of the recipe, I came across a back-and-forth between people who were debating the health benefits of heavy cream and coconut milk. In the midst of the exchange, one of the heavy cream fans chimed in and wrote: “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”
I understood. Use the heavy cream. Enjoy yourself. We’re not going to be here forever. Which leads me to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, a favorite vacation spot of my family’s for decades.
My wife’s grandmother built a small place a couple blocks off the ocean in Rehoboth in the 1950s. It was a place enjoyed by my wife, her siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles for many years. It has been similarly enjoyed by following generations, including myself and our own daughter.
Long story short, the house was sold last fall and torn down by the new owner earlier this year. This isn’t uncommon in Rehoboth. The older, smaller homes get torn down and replaced by much larger, modern houses. Not sure I’d call it progress but, of course, I’m not impartial. We were fortunate to have one final stay there last summer before it was sold.
We had planned to go back out to the Rehoboth area (Lewes, to be exact) earlier this summer, but COVID-19 intervened and we ended up cancelling.
Lately I’ve really been missing our mostly annual trip out there. The old house. The beach. The boardwalk. The restaurants. Just the general vibe of the place. You really felt like you were on vacation out there. I hope we’ll get back one of these days.
Missing Rehoboth has made me think of impermanence. Buddhism, Hinduism, ancient Greek philosophy. They all agreed that one of the essences of life was impermanence, the notion that nothing stays the same. Favorite vacation spots get torn down and replaced.
The concept of impermanence is important because it can serve as a reminder to experience and enjoy our lives as much as we can now. Carpe diem. You never know when you’ll get another chance to do whatever it is you’ve been planning or dreaming about.
Impermanence does, indeed, mean we’re not going to be here forever. So love. Forgive. Try something new. Reinvent yourself. Take the vacation. Be bold. And use the heavy cream (at least once in a while).
Motown
I’ve always been a bit of a collector. As a kid, it was baseball, hockey and football cards. And beer cans (empty, of course). And stamps. And bottle caps. And coins. Back then, though, it was mostly just the sports cards.
For the past 30-35 years, however, my collecting itch has transitioned to ticket stubs, sporting event credentials, lapel pins and coffee cups. I thought it might be fun to feature one of my collectibles here periodically and reminisce about its origins. So, here we go.
Motown.
I picked this cup up at a Motown Records souvenir store in Detroit’s Metro Airport years ago. I grew up in Southfield, Mich., which borders Detroit to the northwest. I’ve loved the “Motown sound” for as long as I can remember. The Supremes. The Temptations. The Four Tops. Marvin Gaye. Smokey Robinson. They created some of the most memorable music in history. In fact, here are five of my favorite Motown songs …
“What’s Going On” by Marvin Gaye
“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Marvin Gaye and Tami Terrell (as well as Diana Ross)
“What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” by Jimmy Ruffin
“Reflections” by Diane Ross and the Supremes
“The Tracks of My Tears” by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles
I’ve lived outside of the Detroit area for about 30 years now, but hearing a Motown song always takes me back to my years growing up there. I was born in 1966, when the old Motown Records was in its prime and when unrest over racial inequality and the Vietnam War were prevalent in American life. Detroit’s ups and downs during my lifetime are well-documented, but I still have fond memories of growing up near there.
Saw my first baseball game at Tiger Stadium when I was six or seven years old. I saw my first Detroit Lions game at Tiger Stadium, as well. A few years later I saw the Lions’ first-ever game at the Pontiac Silverdome (the roof wasn’t even finished). I saw the Red Wings play at Olympia Stadium and then dozens of times at Joe Louis Arena. None of those venues exist anymore.
I was lucky to grow up where I did. My parents cared for my brother and my two sisters and me. We had friends to play with and a relatively safe neighborhood to live in. We could leave our house in the morning to go play ball with friends and not return home until dinner. We played organized youth hockey, baseball and football all over Detroit and its surrounding suburbs. My parents sacrificed to make sure we had educational opportunities available to us.
I’ve lived in Wisconsin now since 1994 and it has been wonderful. The people, the city of Madison and the surrounding areas, my time at the University of Wisconsin – it’s been an awesome place to live and work. But I’ll always carry a bit of Motown with me wherever I go.
COVID-19 has rained on our parade
They’ve already cancelled New Year’s Day 2021.
Well, not really. The calendar is, hopefully, going to roll over from Dec. 31, 2020 to Jan. 1, 2021. At that point, we can bid 2020 farewell. Anybody up for just doing that right now? I thought so.
But back to that cancellation.
I’ve had the great fortune to attend the Rose Bowl Game eight times. As a kid growing up just outside of Detroit in the 1970s, I’d park myself in front of the TV on New Year’s Day and watch all the college football I could. More often than not, that meant watching Michigan or Ohio State play USC in the Rose Bowl.
I attended my first Rose Bowl on Jan. 1, 1988. My alma mater, Michigan State, defeated USC, 20-17. Being in that venue was more amazing than I thought it would be. But I hadn’t been to the Tournament of Roses Parade until about 10 years ago and no matter what happens between now and New Year’s Day, I won’t be going in 2021.
A couple weeks ago, The Tournament of Roses Parade (the Rose Parade, for short) was cancelled for the first time since World War II due to the coronavirus. Now, more than 150,000 Americans have died from the virus. The cancellation of a parade pales in comparison. So, what’s the big deal?
Thanks to the Wisconsin football team’s participation in last season’s Rose Bowl Game (and to my job in the school’s athletic department), I was able to travel to southern California and take part in the festivities. That included attending the Rose Parade.
The parade itself is an experience. The football game is, of course, significant, but so is the parade. In fact, it’s older than the game. And it’s really important to the locals, many of whom volunteer their time and effort to make it the spectacle that it is. I’m sad for the folks who put so much work into it.
But reflecting back to that morning eight months ago (was it really only eight months?), I think about how new everything felt. The first morning of the new year. Sitting together with friends and families in that chilly, pre-dawn grandstand waiting for the first sunrise of 2020. Anticipating the start of the parade and, later, our game against Oregon. It was New Year’s Day and it felt like it. A chance to start fresh.
Of course, every day is a chance to start anew and, these days, it’s helpful to remember that. It’s just that when I saw the news about the parade being shut down, I couldn’t help thinking back to that morning and wondering when I’ll feel like that again.