For the Deadheads

I am a proud fan of the Grateful Dead, thanks to my college roommates. The band's hippie vibe isn't for everyone. However, I admire their eclectic and creative approach to rock and Americana. Nobody else sounds like the Dead. There is no sex or violence in their music. Just peace and love (and drugs).

So, without further adieu, here are a handful of my favorite Dead tracks.

"Scarlet Begonias" - This is such a happy carnival of a song. The lyrics describe a random encounter, presumably at a hippie gathering, with an unknown woman with flowers in her hair. She had "rings on her fingers and bells on her shoes. And I knew without asking, she was into the blues." This song has so many lyrical gems. Best line: "Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right." I must confess: One of my favorite recordings of this song was done by Bruce Hornsby, who toured with the band for a few years in the 1990s.

"Althea" - The groove carries along this conversation about a conversation with Althea. I'm not really sure what the lyrics are going for, but they suit Jerry Garcia as a bachelor.

"Tennessee Jed" - Gotta love the rhyming couplets about Jed, who is out of his element anywhere outside Tennessee. "I woke up, feeling mean, went down to play the slot machine. The numbers turned around and they said, 'you better head back to Tennessee, Jed." Bruce Hornsby does a great version of this song too.

"Cassidy" - This ode to beat icon Neal Cassady (yes, different spelling from title, which was coined after a friend's daughter) is one of guitarist Bob Weir's best songs with the band. The song builds and soars to the chorus about a freewheeling spirit who was born to be what he became.

"He's Gone" - I like the version on "Europe '72." Only recently did I learn that this song is an ode to the band's former manager who ripped them off. Aside from the mellow-but-melancholy pace, this song is chock full of interesting one-liners about a sneaky guy: "Rat in a drain ditch, caught on a limb, you know better but I know him" and "Nine-mile skid, on a ten-mile ride, hot as a pistol but cool inside." And of course, "Cat on a tin roof, dogs in a pile, nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile."

"Help on the Way" - I'm really digging this version from 1976, which segues into "Franklin's Tower." I just love the main riff and the jam explorations:

Sneaky parents

If you are a parent, and you have small children, then you are sneaky.

You sneak a little water into their cups of sugar-laden apple juice, and sometimes when they nap, you and your spouse sneak a little sex.

If you are a parent who finds that offensive, then please go back to the morgue. Parents should sneak around with each other.

The fun part about being sneaky is the risk of getting caught. Besides, it's always better in the daytime when you have more energy and the kids haven't completely worn you out.

We avoid detection, but there has been one close call. A few years ago, my son woke up early from his nap, and we had forgotten to lock the door. As we hid under the covers, he asked why we were in bed without any clothes. I don't remember what we said - probably something about getting dressed.

He bought our sneaky excuse. Then he asked for juice. I added water, and he was none the wiser.

Goodbye, Mary Lou

We attended a celebration of life for Mary Lou Goss, who died last month after a year-long battle with lung cancer.

I worked with Mary Lou for seven and a half years in Federal Way. She was one of the kindest people I have ever known. For some reason, I vividly remember when she held both of my boys when they were babies. She always wanted to see pictures of the boys, too.

Even in the thick of her cancer battle, she showed up to the office with a smile and a positive attitude. She never played the "cancer card" and never wanted you to feel sorry for her. Toward the end, she was coughing and wheezing a lot, and the chemotherapy was pounding her body into submission. But she kept on keepin' on.

She always asked about her co-workers' families and children, and she always gushed about her own. It didn't matter if an angry customer barged into the office, dumped a stack of wet newspapers on her desk and cussed up a storm. She stayed calm and polite - even though she had every right to say "Fuck you, I have cancer."

One evening, I was wrapping up an email to Amanda when Mary Lou let me know she was the last one out and was locking the door. I was typing "I love you" to Amanda when I said "Bye, I love you" out loud to Mary Lou. There was a pause, and she said with a laugh, "I love you too, Andy." I was red-faced at the mix-up, but at the same time, I realized I meant it in the most platonic way possible. Everyone at that office loved Mary Lou.

At today's celebration, her husband, Phil, said over and over again that Mary Lou would want us to celebrate rather than mourn. It was a blessing to share stories about Mary Lou with my former colleagues. It was a privilege to celebrate Mary Lou.

Some people simply make life sweeter. Goodbye, Mary Lou. We promise to keep posting photos of the boys ...

Perspectives in leadership

Leadership requires strength, brains and humility. A killer smile helps, and a killer instinct never hurts.

A boss leads the company by leading other bosses, who lead their teams toward a goal that makes the entire company prosper. That's the idea, anyway.

To digress, parenthood enriches the natural leadership skills we already possess. One does not have to be presidential material to be an effective leader. Parents, I'm talking to you. For one perspective, consider the state of being a parent. If the parent does the job right, the parent will meet the child's needs, and the child will grow into a confident adult who understands right from wrong. Teamwork with a spouse is ideal, but single parents can also adapt and survive. Parents lead children and the family.

Something about marriage and children complete the interpersonal picture. It feels so natural. I wonder how hard single people fight that urge, or if the urge even exists.

As for leadership, people will gravitate to different styles. Some styles are more effective than others. The best leaders lose the ego and put the responsibility of others first. Sort of like a good parent. As one boss told me in a one-minute leadership lesson: "Some employees, you just leave alone. With the rest, you need to know which ones to pat on the back and which ones to kick in the butt."

One style is the likable "be your buddy" boss. I have had a few of these, and they make the work atmosphere fun. A weakness, however, is that the style is more informal. I believe that the more formal a workplace, the more effective it can be. That doesn't mean stiff-suited robots and zero humor. There is the dickhead style of boss who injects any formality with fear. No supervisor should dangle an employee's job and threaten unemployment in order to make a point.

The best leaders I have seen in my career were decisive but considerate. They listened and were curious. They invited their followers onto a bus and traveled toward goals near and far.

My first real leadership role was in 2004. I had led other projects before, but had not managed an employee. As a community editor, I managed one reporter. She was newly hired, and two years older than me. Every day, she would come to me and ask if I had any stories. I had to give her every single story to write. Keep in mind, my boss was the one who hired the reporter. At the time, I always felt awkward telling her what to do. It wasn't until a few years into the next job -  as editor of a small staff - that I found the solution to leadership and effective management.

The answer boils down to three words: Lead every day. I made it a point to discuss daily, with a degree of formality, what my staff was doing that day and what they had planned for the next day. It could be a five-minute conversation or a 45-minute meeting. I made sure they knew I was paying attention to everything, not in a big brother way, but because I cared about the outcome of our efforts. I worked hard to make us feel like a team, and consistently showed the staff examples of their work that had an impact. I thought that the more I showed them what they did right, the more they would do the right things.

Fishbowl philosophy

As my fourth month at The Olympian gets under way, I can finally say that I feel really good about this week's stories.

For the first time in my career, I desperately want to impress my editor. I refuse to delete that comment because you were probably intrigued by my embarrassing admission. Everyone wants to wow their boss. In tomorrow's paper, I will have a story on a grass-roots syringe cleanup and another story on a vacant motel that doubles as a homeless drug den. I don't know if either story will appear on the front page, and really, I don't care. The right people will read them.

I estimate that in three-plus months at The Olympian, I have cranked out 100 stories. That's a lot of practice. I am feeling more comfortable in the job. The best learning experiences occur when you jump from one fishbowl to another. Olympia is the crunchiest fishbowl I've swam in so far in Washington. I did swim in the New York City area for a summer internship back in 1999. That was the busiest fishbowl, reserved for certain breeds.

I am reminded of previous fishbowls. I was hatched in Tacoma, then moved to Germany for two-plus years, then to Ohio and Oklahoma before settling in Northwest Indiana at age 5. At age 18, I moved down to central Indiana to attend college, and at 22, I moved to Arizona. Five and a half years later, we moved to Tacoma. That was eight-plus years ago.

Each fishbowl had its own culture and politics. Indiana and Arizona were conservative and less tolerant of non-conforming lifestyle decisions. Here in Western Washington, we live in a diverse bastion of progressive thought. I admit, sometimes it's even too liberal for me. But just sometimes. I have always leaned left, but with a conservative streak. Or maybe it's more libertarian. I think libertarianism will rise to the forefront as the Millenial Generation comes of age. I sense more libertarian values in that generation, even though their tech-gadget passive-aggressiveness sometimes annoys the shit out of me.

Quote of the day

"Will you please hold my balls?"

That's what my 3-year-old son said in a sing-song request as he placed two rubber bouncy balls in my hand in the lobby at Red Robin.

We all chuckled, and although it wasn't a gut-busting laugh-out-loud moment, there was something so touching about the question's innocent nature. No adult could ask that question without a grin or a reddened face.

I want to delay - as long as possible - the day when my children's minds are permanently scuffed by the real world's gutters, just like the rest of us. I am compelled to protect every inch of these children, shielding them from scraped knees and bruised hearts, but knowing damn well they need to fall down in order to learn, just like the rest of us.

Yes, my son, I will hold your balls. I will put them in my pocket for safekeeping.