Reinvention: Taking stock

Dreamland
The most obvious option in my search
for what to do next is retail. After all,
I've worked for some of the best shops
in the world and loved almost every
minute of it. I adore shopping. More
specifically, at those great, grand
department stores of times gone by.
Within was a veritable wonderland of
magical things to see and do. Locally
owned, they acted as leaders in their
communities. Innovators who brought
the world home for all to enjoy and
maybe... buy. Could that happen here?

Locally sourced
The longer that I'm here full-time in
Lewistown, the more I feel that our
primary problem is myopia. A lack
of exposure to all that's out there.
Let me clarify - there are many here
in town who have been there... done
that. Folks who either moved from
somewhere else or made sure they
got out and saw the world. Yet they
are the minority. Many locals have
a rather insular view of civilization.
And sadly, their version of Nirvana
might be the Walmart in Billings.

Vision loss
There's nothing wrong with staying
close to home. In fact, I'm rather
a homebody myself. The problem
is that you don't know what you're
missing unless you're aware of the
options. Hence most are happy with
the slow decay of our community.
Rather than encourage innovation,
creativity, and growth, they prefer
to stay with the status quo. Our
problem is that unless we evolve,
soon Lewistown could be poised on
the brink of extinction. Then what?

Outer limits
I'm not saying that everybody has to
visit Manhattan. Nor am I suggesting
that my way of life is the only path.
What I am certain of is that most are
willing to learn if someone is willing
to teach. I'm sure you're wondering
what any of this has to do with retail.
Actually, it might be the reason why
Lewistown needs more committed
and innovative retailers. There's the
old expression - build it and they will
come. The question is, once up and
running will anybody actually buy?

Windows on the world
What if someone brought the world to
Lewistown? Or, brought Lewistown
to the world? Or... a combination of
both? There are a plethora of things
one simply can't buy in town - nor
in Montana at large. While I doubt
the demand for Santa Maria Novella
lotion will ever be great, I'm fairly
certain that there are residents across
this state who desire lovely things. The
challenge is editing an assortment to
suit their wants and needs. Even if they
don't know what they want or need.

At your service
My problem is I'm not quite sure how
to physically run a store. At one point
I trained to be a store manager simply
to learn the other side. However that
was long ago and I honestly doubt that
I can remember much of anything. The
only thing I do recall is that there was
nothing harder nor more thankless than
being a shopkeeper. One has to truly
love what you're doing. So, my dream
of being a retail and cultural missionary
here in rural Montana may be at best
be a fantasy. Could I make it a reality?

Buy one, get one
I've never been a merchant and
the idea of managing my margin
terrifies. Yet, I'm quite adept at
picking stuff and fairly intuitive.
Savvy merchandisers balance
making customers happy with
managing the bottom line. One
can't help but wonder whether
my choices would appeal to the
locals. But is that enough? One
might have to cater to a broader
audience - statewide or national.
The question is... what sells?

Decisions, decisions
There seem to be so many reasons why
such an endeavor might work. It's easy
to envision leveraging most if not all
of my talents within that arena. Not
only would it be an adventure, I might
actually contribute something to the
growth of our community. That said,
I must admit it's quite a terrifying idea.
Could all of the risk not be worth the
reward? Once again, this wayward
soul has much to ponder. And you my
friends must continue to be patient.
I know I'll figure this out someday.

Reinvention: Interior motives

So many options
As a reminder, all week long I've been
weighing my options for "next". Thus
far we've explored artistic, literary, and
hospitality pursuits. While all seemed
viable, upon further consideration none
were quite right. Therefore my search
continues and today leads me straight
to home. Many of you have followed
the transformation of our 1917 abode -
also known as the Passion Pit. While
a formidable project, it's truly been a
pleasure. In the process I figured out
that my passion is focused INDOORS.

Pre arranged
From the cradle on I've always been
consumed with environmental issues.
As a tot I played with blocks on the
lower shelf of Mother's coffee table.
In my imagination said space was a
penthouse apartment where chunks
of wood were transformed into walls
and furniture. I begged for a Barbie
Dream House but somehow I never
got one. I didn't want to play with
dolls... all I wanted was to decorate!
If that alone isn't proof of a genetic
predisposition then tell me, what is?

Boys will be...
My bedroom was an ever evolving
interior decoration test site. Within
those walls I would paint, paper,
fluff, and poof. Rather than desire
baseball cards, airplane models, or
matchbox cars - I preferred furniture,
antiques, and decorative accessories.
I remember playing "house" in my
buddy's basement. Within that cinder
block cocoon we would eat, sleep,
and cuddle. Rarely was I happier as
a child. Sadly it wasn't until thirty
years later that playtime became reality.

Objects of my affection
As a teenager I wasn't a fan of Mickey
Mantle or Joe Namath (well, except in
underwear ads.) My heroes were Mr.
Billy Baldwin (the decorator), Elsie de
Wolfe, and David Hicks. Every week
I returned from the library laden down
with over sized decorating books. For
years I voraciously devoured anything
related to all things decorative. Hence
the arrival of a new shelter magazine
in the mail made this boy's heart beat
quicker - not sports. Within my world
my home plate was antique Spode.

Perfect match
From my first apartment forward,
decorating has remained one of life's
simplest pleasures. My abodes have
followed every trend from poverty
to spare Bauhaus to florid English
country to crisp mid century modern.
Today I would define my style as
confident. Deep within I know what
is right for me. Fortunately Frank
and I are stylistically simpatico. The
first time in his apartment I knew we
were perfect for each other. Since
then, our home has been OUR home.

More for less
Throughout the years many friends
have asked me to help them. Some
poor souls lack confidence. So I did
whatever I could to set things right.
From paint colors to furniture to
purges to rearrangements, most were
thrilled with the outcome. Forced to
replicate grandeur on a shoestring -
I've learned that the ticket price is
not what matters, rather it's how the
item works within the context. My
favorite haunts are auctions, resale,
consignment, and of course e-bay!

Process of elimination
Recently I've been helping Frank's
sister-in-law redecorate her dining
room. Rather that dictate, all I've
done is listen then hunt. We've both
had a lovely time and the end result
is proof of time well spent. Working
with other people on their homes has
to be all about them -  a decorator's
job is to carefully guide, edit, and at
times refocus based on whatever the
homeowners aesthetic is. I don't
resent said constraints, but rather
enjoy, learn, and grow in the process.

Maybe this time
So, the obvious question is should
I become an Interior Decorator?
My answer is maybe. There is no
doubt that I enjoy the process of
making a house a home. I've been
blessed with "good taste." Rather
than be a snob - nothing gives me
greater pleasure than sharing said
skill set. My primary problem is
where we live. Are there enough
clients within the Montana? More
important, should I try to shift the
state from cowboy to chinoiserie?

Local talent
Jeana Noel moved to Moccasin
Montana from sunny Florida.
One of the Southeast's premier
kitchen and bath designers, she
now serves a local and national
clientele from an outbuilding
on her ranch. From the moment
we started working on our new
kitchen with Bella Cucina we
spoke in decorative shorthand.
Jeana immediately knew what
we wanted. The question is if
she can do it... what about me?

Another door open?
In real estate they say location, location,
location. Therefore I'm not certain that
I can build a viable Interior Decorating
business out in the middle of no where.
More important, part of me abhors the
structure of said industry - high markups
and commissions are not what I adore.
My talent is planning and picking. Few
love an affordable "discovery" more
than me! Could I design more for less
for others? If so, will Montanans pay a
fair fee for said services? I have to mull
this one over for awhile... stay tuned!

Reinvention: Basic instinct

Bare facts
I spend a lot of my time at my desk
on the computer. Most of said time
is spent communicating via written
word. Could the answer to my work
quandary be sitting before me? Like
it or not, I like writing and once it's
down on "paper" what's said is said
and on the record. The anal retentive
part of me likes that finality. That's
because nobody can misquote or
misrepresent whatever I've spewed.
It is what it is. The raw truth out in
the open for all to see and... read.

Flower power
I first discovered "creative writing"
in my teens. My teacher was a lady
named Faith. The ultimate hippie -
she was an aquarian vision of long
locks, granny specs, Birkenstocks,
Indian blouses, all enveloped in a
cloud of patchouli. A true free spirit,
she inspired, motivated, and educated
in a rather blithe manner. And to this
WASP boy - she was exotic beyond
all imagination. Most shockingly...
she never shaved her arm pits. Words
couldn't express my newfound love!

Literary circle
One Christmas she invited our class
to a party at her home. That beyond
charming lair was in the rear of a
decaying eighteenth century manse.
I was transported to another time and
place. Candles burned everywhere
which looking back was rather risky
given a season's worth of dried weed
hung from the rafters above. Then
someone pulled out a guitar. Soon we
were all sitting in a circle singing folk
songs. It was as if Judy Collins was
in the room. How groovy was that?!

Out of circulation
Shortly thereafter I shifted my focus to
art. My initial years as an art director
were spent behind a drawing board in
educational publishing. Then a friend
invited me to join his family firm -
a venerable religious publisher. Soon
thereafter my sphere of influence grew
to include editorial responsibilities.
While I can't imagine what they saw
in me - slowly I started to realize that
I was as adept with words and images.
In hindsight my problem was I wasn't
comfortable with what was published.

For the record
Soon I shifted to the mad world of
advertising and the line between
church and state was firmly drawn
as related to writers versus artists.
Hence beyond a headline or two,
the bulk of my literary output at
this time was limited to writing
memos and once computers and
the internet  appeared... e-mails.
Communication is most certainly
lacking in most corporations. My
ability to clearly spread the word
became my competitive edge.

I hear voices
Over the years many people have told me
that I ought to write a book. Given all that
I've lived through, facts might read like
fiction! Instead one day I started writing
a blog. You see, my life has always been
an open book. Sharing highs or lows with
others has not only helped me, it seems to
benefit those listening. Thus channeling
my inner voice into written form has now
culminated in a quite enjoyable creative
outlet. Most important, it's for pleasure -
and not a task. If it ever became a job or
burden - I would put down my cyber pen.

Free to be me
Writing is a skill that I will continue
to leverage but I assure you, it will
never be my vocation.  The corporate
world likes to transform amorphous
souls into square pegs that in theory
fit into square holes. Could that be
what's wrong with the business of
doing business? Creativity lies deep
within all of us. Our ability to morph,
reinvent, and innovate is waiting to
be unleashed. I won't be labeled and
hence must write off becoming only
a full time writer. Enough said...

Reinvention: Let me entertain you

Straight talk
As I try to figure out what's next,
an obvious option is event planner.
Some of us took a very long time to
find happiness. After making many
mistakes I discovered the real "me"
in my mid thirties. The first time that
I kissed a boy I called my bestie "T"
with the revelation. After she silently
and patiently listened I asked "Am I
gay?" Her response... "Absolutely."
My response? "How did you know?"
Her clear and concise revelation...
"You were a wedding planner."

Aisle help
Long before Diana got hitched I was
consumed with matrimonial matters.
For many reasons I was asked to help
a friend "do" her wedding. Soon more
followed. While I enjoyed helping
others, all I really wanted was total
control. Once engaged, I dove into
orchestrating our nuptials. My future
wife didn't know what hit her. Sadly,
neither did I. But trust me, by the end
said soiree was produced in perfectly
and properly planned "good taste"
and I loved every minute of it!

Perfect arrangement
Leave it to a latent homosexual to use
Constance Spry and Elsie De Wolfe as
inspiration for flowers and festivities.
I arrived at the florist with a mound of
tagged tomes showing exactly how my
posies should be arranged. While all
was deceptively simple, restraint was
required which in the seventies wasn't
the norm. A nod to le mode du jour
were apricot chiffon bridesmaid frocks
and Ethel's gown of dusty rose. Yet in
hindsight - it worked quite well. Sadly
the marriage was not as successful.

Open house
After we joined forces, my new wife
and I entertained frequently. Nothing
made me happier than prepping and
sharing our home with others. Hence
the never ending dinners, brunches,
and bashes.  Looking back on those
days is rather sad. What seemed so
important at the time didn't matter in
the long run. A "perfect" family was
anything but perfect and it in the end
it all came crashing down. Yet among
the debris remained several cases of
highball glasses awaiting the next party.

Basic instinct
One thing that I learned during my
formative years was how to easily
orchestrate an event. Somewhere
deep within my somewhat warped
DNA lurked the natural ability to
do so. Hence many who know me
well have suggested that I offer my
soiree services at large. Sadly, it's
doubtful that leveraging said skills
is viable. First of all, our population
hovers under six thousand plus the
nearest large city is hours away. So
I doubt the demand is great enough.

Gone to pot
Second, this is the wild west. Thus
my approach to celebrations may
be a little off. Raised by a lady who
never allowed a jar or carton on her
table, my standards are rather high.
Recently I was quite uncomfortable
placing paper (not Styrofoam) cups
on my holiday party coffee service.
Dilemmas such as that baffle locals.
And frankly... I'm not sure they're
all that wrong. However, I assure
my east coast friends that a pot luck
will never happen under my watch!

Past present
Finally, my approach to festivities
may be dated. Many Americans
enjoy watching Downton Abbey
yet I doubt many live that way.
Our children seem to have a better
handle on what's relevant. So I'll
sit the next one out rather than try
to impose dreams of grandeur on
my baby's impending nuptials. If
I'm incapable of planning such a
big event, it's doubtful I'm willing
or able to plan anyone else's. Thus
event planning is not on my menu!

Reinvention: Picture this...

So many choices
With this shiny new year comes the
challenge of figuring out "NEXT."
Weighing out one's options can be
daunting. Much like everything in
my life - I've decided to share with
you my considerations. Hence for
the next few days I'll publicly work
through my thoughts - idea by idea.
The only thing I'm not willing to put
on the table as of yet is returning to
rote. Been there done that! There is
little thrill in going to a place you've
already been. But where is next?!

Fore drawn conclusion
As my career progressed, my Mother
became rather confused about what
I actually did for a living. During my
formative years I was given the label
of "artistic". Deep within lay a natural
talent for creation. I drew endlessly.
Looking back I'm not sure that Ethel
didn't realize I was different in many
ways -  not all of which were socially
acceptable. So if I was odd, then she
made sure it was in a proper context.
Thus I became her little work of art.
And what a piece of work I was...

The fifth dimension
By fifth grade, Ethel's perfect child
became a problem child. For reasons
I still don't understand I suddenly
hated everybody and everything.
Hence, I got into a lot of trouble.
My teacher was useless. The school
principal said I would never amount
to anything. Educational psychologists
deemed me a genius with severe social
problems. In the end, the only person
who truly cared was my art teacher
Mr. "Z." He saw something within me
and decided to do something about it.

Life saver
Rather than sit in the principal's
office, Charlie took me down to
the bowels of the school. Next
to the boiler sat the "Art Room."
A magical place filled with the
heady scent of bogus paper, old
crayons, and dried tempera paint.
Over the next years we struck up
a friendship that frankly changed
my life. Looking back, it's highly
probable that he and Ethel had
some sort of an unholy alliance.
With his help I found my niche.

Guidance counselors
Throughout the balance of my formative
years through high school graduation,
Mr. "Z" nurtured, pushed, coddled, and
challenged me. Once he was promoted
to run all artistic endeavors within the
school system, he made sure others did
exactly the same. Hence I was blessed to
have a series of caring creatives push me
to places I never knew existed. By the
time I graduated years later, the bad boy
had been transformed into wunderkind.
One thing is certain, those educators
literally saved my life. What a gift...

Artistic license
Once an adult, I stopped drawing. Don't
get me wrong, within my initial role as
an Art Director I had to render all sorts
of images. But that was business - not
pleasure. Somewhere along life's way
the satisfaction of creating something
beautiful simply because one wanted to
faded away. As my career and  related
technology progressed, I soon stopped
drawing entirely. Instead I became the
ultimate "picker." And found that true
creativity lay in helping others to be
their best. Just like Mr. "Z" and me.

Full circle?
Is this my chance to start drawing again?
Will I now launch a new career as a fine
artist? All the coolest people in Montana
are artists. They look different and even
more important - live differently. With an
outlet in which to express their innermost
emotions - they seem happier, mellower.
My challenge is what kind of art would I
create? Am I up to the challenge? On the
walls of the Passion Pit hang the work of
some truly talented people. Do I have the
stuff within me to compete with them?
More important, do I actually want to?!

Off the wall
If I'm honest, I really don't like the
creative process. Let me clarify -
I abhor the work involved to make
a dream a reality. I'm certain that
no inner Van Gogh lurks within.
The way I live life has become my
canvas and I rather like it that way.
Occasionally Ethel still whispers
in my ear, however picking up a
pencil is not in my future. It's so
much easier to hang up those so
much more talented's hang ups.
So, back to the drawing board...

A NEW DAWN

Process of elimination
Yesterday the Passion Pit resembled
a petrified forest. Our desiccated tree,
garland, boughs, and wreaths are now
down. And all of the acoutrements
are boxed up and back in the attic.
Eliminating any holiday spirit left
is like taking a master cleanse. While
the process can be uncomfortable -
one ultimately feels much better post
the removal of all residual toxins. Our
home once again feels like home. And
given it's five below outside, we can
be fairly assured no one is stopping by.

Winter wonderland
It's been lightly snowing for two days
with the thermometer hovering around
zero. At this point we've got over a foot
on the ground and it's beyond beautiful.
Many of you may be shivering just at
the thought of our winter weather but
I actually welcome the quiet solitude
that comes with it. There's no better
stay cation than cocooning away from
it all. Now that my holiday thank yous
are written and mailed, I can get down
to important business. You know... the
stuff like figuring out what's next.

From then to now to wow
When I exited my last position in late
April - I promised myself a respite till
the new year. During that hiatus we
weren't sitting around doing nothing.
Moving into the Passion Pit took time
and even today, we can't find things.
Adjusting to being with each other
full time has been "interesting." In
the old days we spent our days apart.
Now we each have an office within
the Passion Pit. That plus a regularly
scheduled morning routine enables us
to live happily together... yet far apart.

To be decided
So, the obvious question is what's next?
Frankly my answer is who knows? I've
got lots of ideas and a few irons in some
long distance fires. That said, my heart
is here in Lewistown and if I've learned
anything over the last few months it's
that this is HOME. I'm the happiest I've
been in a long time hence my hesitation
to jump into anything that might screw
it up. Given we're quite comfortable,
there's no rush. And oddly, that's simply
fine with me. For the first time in my life
I have no idea where I'm going or when!

Dish pan man
Have I mellowed? Has my intellectual
prowess become flabby? Am I hiding
here in rural Montana from something?
Could it be that I've become lazy?  It
seems that my current state of mind is
a combination of several of the above.
Some suggest I should be worried given
any value and relevance to my vocation
may soon fade away like my youth. Yet
once one has finally hit that sweet spot,
that state of personal nirvana, it's hard to
want to do anything but enjoy and learn
from this private and professional hiatus.

Alternative route
Have you ever really taken a break?
It's hard to step away in order to be
able to professionally chill out. We
all take on responsibility in bits and
pieces. Without realizing it - that
burden becomes so great that it can
break us. If given the chance to start
anew, many discover that most of
what we assumed was important is
worthless. So, what's your dream?
What are you doing today to make
your fantasy your reality? Are you
ready to change your destination?