Tubalub

by Kip Durney

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Kip Durney

Routinely Autumn

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Georgetown, Massachusetts

It’s now mid-August and the nights have turned cooler; many of the leaves have turned a darker shade of green and have a more rugged and coarse texture. I don’t seem to have to cut the lawn as much and the chipmunks and squirrels seem to be less active. Vacations are winding down as we approach Labor Day weekend and parents, like myself, have started to complain about our kids going back before the holiday. Just seems wrong I guess but I get it.

We bought the kids new backpacks yesterday, lunch bags, and of course the shiny new sneakers that they can’t wear before the first day of school. I’m not really sure why that’s a rule but it’s one of those things that I got stuck with as a kid so it’s been arbitrarily handed down to my kids. They hate it as much as I did. I’m sure their kids will also beg unsuccessfully to wear their new kicks before Labor Day.

Maybe I’ll be one of those progressive parents and give in.

I’m thinking about it.

The routine of a deliciously unstructured and chaotic summer is in full swing, but as that calendar flips and September emerges on the horizon, we dread the transition back to school.

I guess I should be clear here. I’m not suggesting that I don’t want my kids to go back to school and be subjected to a regimented schedule dictated by the school calendar.

Not at all.

In fact, I excitedly anticipate and welcome that moment with an adult iced concoction, the pool to myself, and either a great new book or more typically a flashing curser on my laptop waiting for me to assemble certain letters in a specific order that when read back, makes you feel something. Anything.

It’s a tall order. Futile some may suggest.

The truth is, I look forward to the routine of school. Some kids don’t need it, others do. Mine fall into the latter category. 2/3 of my children find salvation and comfort in that routine and when it’s not there, they struggle immensely. They are frustrated, confused, unhappy and just don’t know what to do next. It’s hard on all of us and we do what we can to help them (and ourselves for that matter).

But as August rolls on and the kids seem to be more crazy than ever, we are reminded that September is fast-approaching.

Routine is approaching.

A resurgence of pseudo-sanity is in sight.

Football, foliage, cooler nights, fire pits and marshmallows, pumpkin beer, hoodies, Thanksgiving. And soon thereafter, the fat man in the red suite.

By the way, can we stop making pumpkin beer? It’s really not good.

The seasons in New England can teach us a great deal about life, it’s challenges, and our place in the world. As we plunder into the surrealism of autumn, which brings with it its stunning natural beauty, remember too that it brings the inherent routine of nature and the ever-changing world. Just when we think we can’t take another snowstorm or rainstorm or heat wave, it changes. We move on but also find comfort in knowing it will be back next year.

There is solace in routine. Conversely, there is excitement in spontaneity and the unknown. I guess that’s why Mother Nature throws us curve balls routinely to keep us all in balance.

And That’s probably why parenting is so hard. It keeps us from living a life of blissfully wonderful self-indulgence and gluttony.

Even as wonderful as that might sound, I would miss the anticipation of September. I would miss the transition from spontaneity to routine, the excitement in my son’s eyes on that first day of school, the giggles of my twin girls as they try on Halloween costumes. I would miss their eager anticipation of meeting new teachers and classmates. I would miss Friday night football and marshmallows with the kids.

I would miss the insanity of my structured and predictable Google calendar.

So for now, I will embrace the chaotic sanity of the school year routine ~ and probably another mediocre pumpkin beer. But I will also look forward to next summer’s unstructured bliss, random exploration, late nights and Crane beach sunsets with friends.

Only one thing is certain: things changes, both good and bad. Seasons, routines, teachers, schools, kids, and relationships.

I’m trying to NOT figure it all out but rather take it all in, hold on tight, and enjoy the ride. After all, it’s all about the journey right?

Hello September. I see you.

Welcome back.

The Playlist Curator

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The Mix TapeThere are things that drive us all and we embrace those passions that are the essence of who we are as human beings.

For me, it’s technology, music, writing and storytelling.

When I first read Rob Sheffield’s “Love is a Mix Tape”, I understood exactly what he meant immediately. The power of sharing a curated list of music that tells a specific story to a specific person is enormously fulfilling but often, extremely difficult.

We all have different tastes in music; we all hear and tell different stories. Offering people a “story” to listen to that they may not have had the opportunity otherwise, for whatever reason, and helping them experience something new is nothing less than awesome.

It’s an enormous responsibility and it’s a high-stakes game of getting and keeping a listener’s attention. When done right, not only do you attain a new and loyal customer/listener, but you’ve now built trust in that relationship and just maybe opened your user’s ears to something entirely new and exciting.

The Spotify Playlist

I love building products and programs. I have been in technology my entire career, tactfully bridge the gap between my customers and dev/ops, curate strategic relationships, listen to what others (and data) tell me, and love sharing the enormity of music (and products) with everyone.

How could this not be the best job in the world? After all, isn’t life too short to chase the life we thought we were supposed to have and instead embrace the passions that have always been right in front of us?

For me, it’s music and storytelling. What’s your passion? Are you embracing it?

That Second First Best Friend

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Many years ago, I watched my son experience, for the first time, the evolution of that first best friend. It was something beautiful to watch and it brought me back to when I was a kid experiencing the same feelings. We never forget how awesome that first friend was. We never forget how invincible we felt when we were together. The laughs, the tears, the hard times, the fun times. They are often the best memories of our childhood.

But life complicates, as usual. We quickly realize that growing up is hard – and real friendships are hard to find. What gets us through those tough times are those friends we choose to share our lives and our families with. They prop us up, stand behind us, and never, ever judge.

I’ve had my own struggles lately. And no matter what happens, I know I’ve got some amazing friends in my corner.  And honestly, I’ll take that over anything else in the world right now.

We have to learn how to be a good friend. It’s hard. And it starts as kids in the playground. My heart melts when I see my son and begin his own journey. While his first best friend had a place in the process of learning to be a good friend and person, it’s the second first best friend several years later that is molding them into the type of friend they will be for the rest of their lives.

Chatting about life.

But we never forget that first best friend. I remember clearly when I dropped my son off at preschool one morning, he uncharacteristically was upset that I was leaving him. It was his second year and never once previously did he show any signs of separation anxiety.

So I asked him, “what’s wrong?”

He reluctantly conceded, “I miss Jordan.” His first best friend who was no longer in his class.

I couldn’t help but feel for him. We’ve all been there.

Do you remember your first best friend?

The one that you played tag with at the playground and ate at the same table in the lunchroom. The one that made you feel cool for the first time when they showed you how to turn your baseball hat backwards.

The one that made you feel comfortable in that new school with those new kids and new teachers when you thought your insides were going to explode you were so nervous.

The one that you got sent to the principal’s office with for the first time even though, of course, it wasn’t your fault. Hypothetically speaking.

The one that liked the same girl but of course you never talked about it.

The one that you rode bikes with throughout the neighborhood for the first time without your parents watching. You had finally broken free of the confines of the driveway.

Explorers, you were.

They were the one that went a little too far into the woods with you and although you both were afraid that you wouldn’t find your way back out as it got darker and darker, you didn’t say a word about it to each other. But you both knew.

You got in your first fight together although you have no idea what you were fighting about. It hurt but you made believe it didn’t.

He showed you that magazine that he found. You know, the one with the pictures. Of girls. It was awesome but you didn’t even understand why yet.

When you got older, you snuck out of the house together at night for the first time to meet up with your friends that had a later curfew and subsequently locked yourselves out of the house.

Then you both experienced ‘being grounded’.

He saw you cry over a girl for the first time and then the next month did the same thing over the same girl. You understood.

You graduated from high school together and swore you’d stay in touch and see each other often, but you didn’t.

You visited each other in college a few times and it was as if time had never passed while you were together but your visits became less and less frequent. You were both busy studying and hanging out with your ‘other’ friends.

You both eventually got married. He was in your wedding. You were in his. Memorable speeches were made and you laughed and told stories of times gone by.

You bought a house. Had kids. He did the same.

You keep in touch but not as much as you had hoped. You meet up now and then and as always, time stops for those few short hours until you meet again.

Life gets complicated and busy and we all accept that. We cherish the time we DO have together.

But as life further complicates and responsibilities demand our time and attention, when I think back to all the great times we’ve shared together, I can’t help but realize that some of the best moments of my life were back on that playground with you.

Tag, you’re it.