Happy Geek Pride Day

Posted on May 25, 2012 by

Who says geeks aren’t fun? By definition a geek is someone who is a boring, unattractive social misfit. Often characterized as an eccentric person of poor physical stature and socially inept, geeks are generally at the bottom of the junior high food chain. A geek is the prototypical underdog and a champion of the socially oppressed and I proudly embrace my inner geek.

The geek gods are known by their common human names like Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg but their powers of telepathy, divination and perception make Harry Potter seem like a Whoopi Goldberg in an overdone Broadway adaptation of Ghost.

We geeks spend hours upon countless hours arguing the finer points of subjects like “Star Wars vs. Star Trek”.

We wonder who could possibly win the epic battle between Samurai vs. Ninja.

We teach our own self-defense courses in an effort to protect our citizens from the potential threat of world domination by The Borg Queen and her minions.

We spend most of our teenage life trying to avoid death and dismemberment.

We dig cool musicians like Rick Astley…

And when we are not playing World of Warcraft we are perfecting our super powers.

Truthfully we are just every day people who are really into cool (geeky) stuff, hot chicks and theme parties.

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Tech support gave me life skills

Posted on May 24, 2012 by

Artist: Glasbergen

When I first started my career in technology I started where most guys do in this very competitive industry – at the ground level as a tech support agent. Years later I found myself back in the same position but that was a culmination of two lay-offs within a three year span and a job market that was saturated with a lot of qualified (sometimes over qualified applicants) but that’s another story I’m hoping to avoid today because the wounds and the financial heartache’s are still really raw.

But when I started my career in technology helping people troubleshoot issues relating to applications and software we supported I quickly realized that there is one hard, fast rule that can make or break your career: Understanding the issue completely from the client or customers perspective.

In order to completely understand the issue you have to master the art of asking questions. This was a skill that did not come easily to me because in my culture, asking questions is like telling the world that you are either to daft to understand simple instructions or it could be interpreted as a sign of insolence. In my world, both of those things applied – I am equal parts dim-witted and disrespectful and the combination of the two are a harmful for your career and life.

Working as a technical support representative taught me some very useful skills that have helped me advance my career as well as my writing. But the most critical component of the skill set for that job was being able to communicate and receiving information was every bit as vital as divulging information to resolve issues.

How does that transfer over to other aspects of my life? Well, according to Super Mom I still need a lot of work on my communication skills when it comes to being a co-manager in the daily affairs of Matua & Sons, Ltd., but I like to think that those same skills I used as a tech support agent do come in handy with the all-important title of ‘Dad’.

1)      Listen – Or better yet, listen without distractions. Sometimes I am hearing you, but I’m not really listening to you because I have a million things going on in my head and I’m easily distracted by screaming kids, the screaming kids of other people, motorcycles, people riding on motorcycles, televisions, people in tights, people on tightropes…you get the picture. If we are not listening with real intent to understand the subject of conversation, any feedback we give (if in fact we do give feedback) will only be partially right because we don’t fully understand what is being said. It is insensitive and it says that you don’t really care enough to be engaged.

2)      Reiterate – I remember one of my mentors in my first job telling me that if I can’t repeat what was said than I did not hear and therefore did not completely understand what was being said. There are many events in the past where I could have avoided disagreements with Super Mom, with my siblings, my parents, with friends and with others if I had just taken the time to understand and repeat what was being said instead of launching an all-out attack without merit. Reiterating is a great way to say, “This is what I’m hearing,” or “If I understand you correctly, this is why you are upset.”

3)      Empathize – Nothing says, “I don’t care” more like completely ignoring a person’s point of view because you immediately judge the conversation to be inconsequential. Showing empathy does not mean that you are agreeing, it simply means that you care enough about what is going on which also translates to ‘I respect you and what you are saying is important to me because it is important to you.’ Many times I use this in the workplace but ignore that skill completely when it comes to my personal life. If anything, this should be hyper-sensitive when using this skill in your personal relationships because these are the ones where you invest more of your emotional self.

4)      Invest – They say that ‘sharing is caring’ and when you have empathized in troubleshooting an issue you have also become invested in that relationship from beginning to end. A shrewd investor will want to see a return on their investment and it’s no different in relationships. When you have put your ‘emotional investment’ into a relationship you are essentially banking on a long-term, stable and sound investment rather than playing the market for a quick buck. Investing in relationships is the difference between buying a home to live in it until you retire or putting your money into a home that you know you’re going to flip in a year for a profit. The former means you want it the relationship to mature. The latter means you see an opportunity and you are just sticking around long enough to exploit it before you make a clean break for the next score.

5)      Resolution – Relationships are complicated things. Take it from the guy who knows how to kill relationships faster than Round-up kills weeds. When resolving issues it takes compromise and an equal amount of humility from both parties. If one party is willing to give up something in order to fix something but the other is standing firm without any thought of concession and cooperation, the next disagreement will be even more difficult and more taxing on the relationship. The same goes for people who act as if they are conceding something for the sake of resolution, but really they are just relenting in order to end the controversy. Unresolved issues are like an untreated sore – over time it may seem to have healed but under the surface it’s become infected and will affect you more deeply than you realize.

I’m not an expert in these things – on the contrary, I’m still learning. But like all people who start on the ground level, there’s only way you can go from the bottom and that is up. Take time to nurture and cultivate healthy relationships. Healthy relationships give us purpose and allow us the luxury of having the love and support of others.

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Bott Mulitalo: One very memorable man

Posted on May 16, 2012 by

Lopati “Bott” Mulitalo and sons – courtesy: Lala Lesa-Mulitalo

Our fathers were good friends – members of a burgeoning tight-knight Samoan community in Utah. Though our fathers were close, we were casual acquaintances in the early years. Our first conversations were struck up through our mutual love of rugby many years into adulthood. We played two seasons together on a men’s club and it was there that the initial foundations for our friendship were laid. In the last three years, our conversations evolved, still touching on our shared love of rugby, but more focused on the things that mattered most to us – family, career and faith.

I was not sure that I was going to write this because in truth, I’ve been trying to avoid being introspective about Lopati “Bott” Mulitalo. His death on Sunday was a shock to many in our community because even though there always seemed to be a leisurely pace about Bott, in reality he was always thinking of and doing a million and one things in rapid succession for his family. Thinking about him and the empty space he leaves in the hearts of his dear wife Lala and their children is really affecting me; perhaps because there seemed to be so much opportunity, potential and life left for Bott to live for and do. Losing someone is difficult. Losing young people in the prime of life is devastating.

There are some common themes when you are asked to describe Bott as a person. Family and friends universally agree that he was a kind, loving man. In our friendship I cannot recall a time in any of our conversations when Bott spoke an unkind word about anyone. Additionally, he was never judgmental when someone chose to criticize another person in his presence. He would politely smile and slowly remove himself from the conversation. And Bott loved conversation! He could talk for hours on end about things that he was passionate about and his words always looped back to his family. His family meant the world to him and that was evident in the way that he spoke of them.

It was one of Bott’s most admirable traits – he persistently praised, adored and showed unwavering support for his wife and children. The dude bragged about his kids all the time which demonstrated his fierce loyalty as a father. Dads are supposed to brag about their kids but with Bott I always got the sense that his pride for his children ran deeper and had a more significant meaning than a dad just praising his kids – it was more about cheering the little victories with them as a means to encourage and empower them every step of the way.

If laughter is the best medicine then Bott got an overdose of the stuff every minute of every day. Anyone who spent time with Bott knew that they were going to be laughing by the end of the conversation. He enjoyed banter and his laughter was compelling. When Bott laughed you couldn’t help but join him because he enjoyed hearing his peers laugh almost as much as he loved to laugh himself. It was a gift and a testament to his optimism and the will to persevere in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Bott didn’t just want to be happy, he was the poster-child for happiness and he always looked cool doing it.

More than all these things I think the characteristic that really stood out about Bott was that he was genuine. When Bott said that he treasured your friendship you knew immediately that he really meant those words. There was no gray-area or in-between zone with Bott, only a direct approach that told you exactly where he stood with things. He had the blessing of being candid no matter how controversial or hard the subject matter and I appreciated him for that.

I am sad for Lala and the kids but I have faith that they will persevere as they remember a memorable man whose presence was as large as his ego was small. We love you Bott, Lala and the Mulitalo children. Please stay strong, trust in your abilities to overcome all adversities and above all, love and hug each other more than you ever did before and you will always feel him near. Our prayers are with you; our hearts and hands are available to serve you.

Alofa tele mo le uso peleina o Lopati ma le aiga faavauvau – Ia tu Ieova ‘i lo tatou va!

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I’m plotting my own demise

Posted on May 15, 2012 by

Seriously! I’m having one of those days months where I can’t seem to get my mind straight. I’m particularly a basket case on the emotional end of the life’s broad spectrum of up’s and down’s because people, really good people keep dying around me. That is amplifying every other aspect of my life to the point that I can’t seem to focus much because my brain feels like its literally going to implode.

Ironically, on Sunday I was telling a group of 16-18 year olds that when life has tripped you up and you have done a less than graceful face plant on asphalt it becomes even more important to concentrate on the things that matter most. Have faith that the trials you are going through right now may be daunting but there is a valuable lesson to be learned in all of our hardships.

Unfortunately it doesn’t take away from the reality – it hurts! And it sucks.

All day I have been sitting here having a “pity party for one” because life just is not going the way I planned. I’m trying to stay optimistic because my attitude is stifling my creativity which means my writing is suffering which means the only outlet I have for my frustration is rage – unadulterated, unfiltered, uncontrolled, all-encompassing rage; the stuff of legends. And I can’t back it off. It’s been two days and the news last night that a good man whom I have known now for more than ten years died suddenly of a heart attack last night or the fact that my brother is having some severe health issues right now has just fanned the flame even more. I can’t shake it. I can’t take it.

I’ve considered driving south to Goblin Valley or out west to Skull Valley or some other vast, desolate place, hiking in a few miles and just yelling at the top of my lungs until I can’t breathe anymore and my throat is ragged and torn to ribbons.

Maybe I should drive to a ranch and stand in front of a stampeding herd so I can watch my life pass by in front of my eyes before my body and my troubles are trampled to dust.

Or maybe I need to take my own advice and think about the things that I’m grateful for like, being alive another day to watch my sons grow and kiss my wife. Maybe I should be happy that I’m employed when there are so many who don’t have a way to provide for their family in an economy that is still lingering on the brink of disaster. Maybe I should be grateful that I’m a free man and I have relatively good health and a family that loves me instead of incarceration, bleeding ulcers and ostracism.

The reality is cruel and yes it sucks but I’ve been mentally talking myself down from the emotional ledge for two days now and it’s clawing away at my brain so I need to focus on the good.

Life sucks but I gotta suck it up! I need to forget about myself and think about all of those who are suffering far worse than I think I am. I need to serve others to forget myself. That’s what I’ve asked others to do – so time for some of my own medicine.

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It’s all in your hands

Posted on May 10, 2012 by

Mom’s hands were small, delicate things that performed amazing feats.

The tips of her hands were callused from sewing, hand washing cloth baby diapers, cooking meals and gardening. Her hands nursed her children back to health; massaged tiny tired feet and spoon fed chicken noodle soup. Mom’s hands kneaded dough, held babies, served others and touched the lives of others.

Mom’s hands did amazing feats.

Dad’s hands were large, meaty and strong. His hands carried the financial burdens of our family. They grew wrinkled, arthritic and tired from working odd jobs to make ends meet. They tended gardens, played an athletic and adept game of baseball in their prime, smacked naughty backsides when they grew older and gave high-fives when his kids performed well in sports but more importantly in life.

Dad’s hands were strong.

I have a thing for hands. I view hands in the same way that most people view the eyes as the windows to the soul of a person. I look at the hands of the man sitting next to me on the bus, the young woman waiting our table at the local diner or the man who occupies the same seat every weekend at high school football games. A person’s hands tell a story to me. The stories are fabricated at first but my meddling soon uncovers the truth.

Do the large knotted knuckles of the man on the bus indicate that he works in manufacturing? Or are the cracks and tiny cuts on his fingers tell me that he spend his evenings tinkering in the garage on an old Ford engine that he’s been working on since he was a kid in grade school? Are the dry, slender fingers on the hands of the waitress from long hours of jumping from one restaurant to another to pay off school loans, or does she wait on tables in the evening because she has put her entire life on hold so that she can care for a terminally ill mother at home? Are the carefully manicured hands of the man at the football games telling me a story of a doctor, a lawyer or a software developer or is he a concert pianist who prefers to microwave his meals because his life outside of work is too busy to be troubled with cutting vegetables?

Hands are fascinating things. They may have touched rails on the Titanic at one moment, and then pulled an oar on a lifeboat the next. They may have shook the hand of Ronald Reagan one moment and then held them up in self-defense a fraction of a second later in reaction to a gunshot somewhere nearby. There are hands that have pointed at a television camera in defiance of a war and then pummeled George Foreman or Joe Frazier a week later.

A hand gesture can speak a thousand words. People can literally speak with their hands. A persons hand can work miracles. A persons hand can take a life. I have a cousin with massive hands that could cover my face when I was a kid. I have friends who can palm a basketball. I have another friend in Samoa whose hand is deformed. Some hands perform specific functions better than others. Some people sit on their hands and allow their talents to wither away and die. I tend to burn my hands at least once a year.

A person’s hands are interesting things. What stories can your hands tell me?

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Do they owe us?

Posted on May 9, 2012 by

I said it many times as a child and a youth growing up. I’m not sure how the thought originated but it is a notion that stayed with me and continued to grow with age. I owe my parents a lot. But for what you might ask? Aren’t they obligated to care for me since, after all, I didn’t ask to be their child so why should I feel the need to give back everything that they gave up for my sake?

Technically that may be true but consider some of the things that one might think could be reimbursable expenses:

  • Twenty odd years of living under their roof rent-free.
  • Thousands upon thousands of dollars in groceries, clothing, toiletries, shoes and other miscellaneous daily necessities.
  • Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on medical, dental and vision care.
  • School expenses that include books, school supplies, lunches and the gas they used up driving me to school when I missed the bus or had to make an unscheduled visit to the Principal’s office for some act of delinquency.

My parents would soon forget the countless hours they spent counseling me throughout my life. That bit never ended with childhood but continued on until they left this world, young and still eager for life but broken and consumed by illness and the passing of time, perhaps even from a little too much caring and sharing with their children.

That idea that I owed them must have come from an intrinsic desire within each of us to repay those who give without the expectation of receiving anything in return. As parents they bring us into the world, they nurture, they feed and they build and all the while we take, we take and we take but does that ever change the way that they felt about me? Hardly, in fact they seemingly gave even when it felt like there was nothing left to give but they found a way.

Aside from the measurable, tangible things they paid for and gifted to me are the immeasurable and intangible things of which there seemed to be an endless supply.

  • They gave me love and I learned to give love.
  • They gave me faith and I have practiced it every day since.
  • They gave me something to believe in even when the world taught me to mistrust.
  • They gave me purpose, they taught me humility, they prayed for me, they held me and they gave me a fighting chance to be the man that I ought to be.

Did they ever ask me for anything? Of course they did! But it’s not what you would expect from a normal transaction. They never asked me to repay my sizeable debts in the form of money although I’m sure if I had any money it would have been nice to recover some of their costs; especially since I know that I have been the debtor that keeps on taking. No, they simply asked me to repay them with immaterial gifts that I was very capable of giving them thanks to the many things that they gave me in life.

My parents asked me to repay them thus:

Be a blessing to others – I don’t have a lot of money but I try my best to volunteer my time to help others in any way that I can. I learned that from my parents who always served others with their time and their substance. I admit, sometimes I am selfish with my time but I’ve found that I enjoy life better when I’m living for others and not just for myself.

Be independent – a man who cannot take care of himself and those around him is a burden. I watched my parents work part-time jobs on top of full-time jobs just to make ends meet. One of the things our parents always talked about was the value of hard work. They always told us that when you work hard for something it will mean more to you and it will build your character.

Be a man – This has been harder than the other two things because being a man is being a work in progress. They gave me the essential tools to be a man, but sometimes, just like the tools in your arsenal at home, they can be misplaced, become rusty or unfamiliar after years of lying about, unused. But even as the job of becoming and being a man has no expiration date, so too are the timeless lessons that my parents taught that help me each day to strive to be a better man and a better human being.

I still carry around that idea that I owe my parents even though they truly never asked me for a reimbursement on their time and money. I don’t ever want my sons to feel that same obligation and now I wonder if I’m only feeling the same emotions that my parents felt towards me all those years under their care. But if my sons feel the need to repay me, I’ll follow the same advice and course that my parents had for me: Be a blessing to others; be independent and be a man.

Posted in Family, Life, Parenting | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

How elegi changed my life

Posted on May 2, 2012 by

When they say that something is ‘an acquired taste’ I don’t think they took canned mackerel into consideration. The stuff smells bad – really bad. I was a kid on our first trip to Samoa when I first smelled the stuff and I just about lost consciousness when someone opened up a can a few hundred yards away and I took a whiff of the stuff. You know, it’s that dizzying, nose hair singeing type of smell that makes you wish you had a bio-suit on and a warning label only this smell actually scorched my brain a little bit too.

“Have some,” my mom said through gritted teeth as her entire extended family looked on.

It was one of those moments when the locals try to get the ‘foreigner’ to eat something that they don’t like eating themselves but they do it just to see the reaction on your face. I think my siblings choked it down pretty good but I just couldn’t get past the overpowering stench.

“Go on, it’s like tuna,” mom urged, her eyes now bulging out of her head and that familiar ‘you wait until I get my hands on you kid’ look that preempted a severe tongue lashing and a swift kick to my polyester wearing rear-end later in the privacy of our own home.

Slowly, I prepared myself for the inevitable. I stuffed some taro in my mouth, a tiny bit of elegi, then another truckload of taro in before washing it all down with water without chewing. I cursed my mom forever after whenever I saw a can of elegi sitting about, waiting for consumption by someone who wanted to lose their taste buds and their bowels in one swift mouthful.

A funny thing happened though. It took months (perhaps it was years) to really ‘acquire’ for the stuff but I finally did. Mom actually became an expert at cooking it different ways to conceal the bitter taste. Over time, elegi became more of an enjoyable part of our dinner table and less of an intestinal burden.

Lesson learned – One man’s mackerel is another man’s treasure.

Mackerel is as much a part of Samoan life as maize was to the ancient inhabitants of the America’s. It has been such an integral part of Samoan life that a song was written to extol its virtues even as the rest of us held our noses as we somehow managed to slide it down an equally aloof esophagus.

Tinned mackerel was once the lifeline for many Samoans during post-colonial times and in times of severe famine. Cases of the stuff are still used as a form of currency when dealing with faalavelave (family and village crises). In our home in Samoa, elegi became a staple when the number in our household of ten swelled to double its size with members of our extended family living with us during the week for school. There was elegi soup; elegi curry; elegi and vegetables; stir-fried elegi; elegi in gravy and dozens of other variations of the lifesaving fish.

We grumbled but we ate it because we knew that taxed minds and blistered hands worked hard to provide it and yet another pair of loving hands worked diligently to prepare it for our consumption. There is now an emotional connection to elegi that still stirs my heart every time I see a can sitting on a shelf. It reminds me of things that helped build me:

1)      Hardship – Many Samoans toil in the sun and heat to make a living. There are many who barely eek out an existence doing menial jobs. Elegi reminds me of these people and the things that they must endure to provide for their families. Hardship makes us feel deeper and work harder knowing that the only reprieve from our situation is through determination, the work of our hands and God’s love.

2)      Love – Hardship is hardly suffering at all when you realize that you do all that you can each day for the people you love. You set aside your grievances with life and work hard for a single can of elegi because without it your family will go hungry. Love makes us work harder but it also makes the load lighter. It is the primary motivating factor behind island intuition, resourcefulness and sheer purpose of heart.

3)      Gratitude – when you come from humble circumstances and you see the difficulties of life, you learn to appreciate the times when you don’t have to crack open a can of elegi to survive. You learn to be grateful for the things that you have been blessed with and in turn learn to cultivate a desire in your heart to bless the lives of others. Gratitude is the byproduct of hardship and love and when you see hardship you remember to be grateful. And gratitude then transfers to an outpouring of love for those who have very little.

For many years after we moved back from Samoa, my mom would occasionally cook a special elegi dish for our Sunday meals that seemed to be dwarfed by all of the other wonderful dishes on the table. For the most part it was largely ignored by those feasting on the delectable treats, but eventually the elegi would disappear. We found that the elegi was consumed by a room full of people who ate it for sentimental reasons more than its mouthwatering appeal. It was eaten by people who felt the love of parents who endured those hardships for the future of their children and posterity. Elegi was the pungent garnish of gratitude for family and the blessing of life.

Posted in Family, Food, Life | Tagged , , | 8 Comments