Goodbye and Hello

Almost five years ago, I started this blog. I had heard about blogging and wanted to give it a try. At the time, my life was pretty easy. I was working for a large and profitable automotive company. My mother and father were living nearby and in reasonably good health. My financial situation allowed one or two nice vacations a year and discretionary purchases without worry. I had lots of free time. Since I both enjoyed and reviled in this good life, I chose the name Comfort Addict.

Fast forward to now. The auto company forced me into an early retirement resulting in unemployment from which it took more than seven months to emerge. My mother is dead and my father is bed-ridden and beset by one illness after another. My finances are tight due to expenses like my unsold old house. My free time is practically non-existent. I'm fat and often unhappy. In short, life is anything but comfortable.

Considering my current circumstances, I cannot go on being Comfort Addict. This will be my final post on this blog. I want to thank all of you who have read and commented upon my posts.

However, I will continue blogging. Like Chad Ochocinco, I am reborn under another name - Chef Bill. My new blog, Bill of Fare, will have a somewhat different style and emphasis than this one. The posts will be more topical and probably shorter. In addition, the blog will be on Wordpress instead of Blogger.

I hope that you'll follow me to Bill of Fare to see what's cooking. Take care.

Damn Tigers

I have been a Detroit Tigers baseball fan since I was five years old. My father used to take me and my brother to a couple of games a year. The rest of the season, I'd follow the team through the media, especially the radio (announced by that elegant gentleman, Ernie Harwell). Al Kaline, the Hall of Fame right fielder, was my boyhood sports hero and I thrilled to his leading the team to a 1968 World Series victory. As a teenager in 1984, I got a similar charge with another Tiger team, led to the championship by Alan Trammell.

Trammell and Kaline were players and people of a kind. They were good, consistent, soft spoken, hard working, straight arrow athletes who led by example. They both played for Detroit their entire careers. Their combination of skill, character and longevity endeared them to many of us around here.

After Trammell retired in 1996, the Tigers slowly went downhill. Their nadir was in 2003, when they finished the season with an ignominious 43 - 119. I seldom went to games. Then, on a whim, I decided to see the team late in the 2005 season. They had just brought up a young center fielder from the Toledo Mud Hens AAA team named Curtis Granderson. "Who the heck is Curtis Granderson?" I asked someone, wondering when Detroit would get some real players. As if he heard me, he hit a home run and made a couple of fine plays in the field. "Hmm," I thought and made a mental note about him.

The next year, Granderson was our starting center fielder. He was fast, great in the field and sprayed hits at the plate. Along with a sprinkling of young players and veterans, he did the improbable and made it to the World Series.

In the next couple of years, Granderson continued to perform on the field. He also impressed off the diamond, traveling the world as an ambassador for Major League Baseball. He became known for his community work, for which he earned an award from his peers this year. Unlike many major league ball players, he not only finished college but excelled academically, earning two degrees. I began to feel as though Kaline and Trammell finally had a successor.

Then, today, I learned that the Tigers had traded Granderson to the New York Yankees. The team was trying to lessen its payroll and Granderson was one of the few Tiger players any team was interested in.

While I understand that baseball is a business, I am saddened by this trade. In a world of change, constancy is welcome. I was looking forward to seeing Curtis through the ups and downs of his career, handling adversity with his usual determination. To me, he was the symbol of not only what a Tiger should be but what an athlete should be.

So, congratulations, New York. You got a wonderful player and man (think Derek Jeter or Bernie Williams). He'll make you proud always. Treat him well.

Thank you, Curtis, for all you've done for your team and this town. May your career and life be long and fruitful. I will continue to follow you and wish you all the best.

As for you, Tigers, you have upset me and many other fans. You signed a bunch of expensive free agents and had to let the face of our franchise go to balance your accounts. Don't let that happen again. Remember that we don't just root for the uniforms but the people inside them.

Singing Out of Toon

I haven’t cruised the Internet much in the 5 months since my last post. Recently, though, a confluence of energy and desire brought me back on line. I’m sure that a lot changed in the time I was away but one thing sticks out. Cartooning yourself has become a big thing.

While this seemed a case of life imitating art (those silly commercials from the investment firm whose name fails me), it took me only a few thoughts to realize that it could as easily be the reverse. In particular, our political life has become cartoonish.

I first noticed this in the media. Fox News and MSNBC play competing games of blame and distortion. Lately, however, many of our leaders have resorted to a cynical politics of caricature to gain and hold power. This makes the process of policymaking and legislation, difficult in the best of times, almost impossible and enshrines the status quo.

This is readily apparent in the debate of current health care bills in Congress. Republicans cast them as a “downright evil” “government takeover” with “death panels,” benefits for illegal aliens and an increase in abortion. Democrats characterize their opposition as a monolith of cold, unfeeling people whose health care plan is to either not get sick or die quickly if you do.

Politicians have always misrepresented and exaggerated their opponents’ positions. Today, however, the practice has scaled up by a factor of many. Each major party has created constituencies of prejudices, overstating differences of opinion as perilous threats.
They wouldn’t do it, though, if it didn’t work. We, the people, fuel this strategy and, in that, we get the politics we deserve.

I’m not asking anyone to abandon principles or ignore untruths. However, we do need to have arguments of policy honestly. That means listening to the other party and avoiding rhetorical fallacies and demagoguery. It also means calling out those who simplistically play to our biases and rewarding those who are sincere.

I am under no illusions that this will be easy. Progress will be a slow ripple in the pond. We will not agree on much at first. Incremental changes will be fragile. Yet, it is not only worth doing but something we must do for ourselves and our children. This was the promise of President Obama’s election. We can have leaders who achieve this vision but only if we have their backs.

Miracle

As the posts below indicate, I have been unemployed. Since last December, I have written and rewritten my resume; called recruiters; visited on-line job boards and networked. I have been frustrated, angry, sad and sometimes depressed.

Recently, I accepted that I would have to move to another state to get a job. I was a prime candidate for positions in Rochester, New York; Jacksonville, Florida; Madison, Wisconsin and Nashville, Tennessee. In fact, I was supposed to fly to Nashville for an interview today.

Then, Tuesday, something happened. At 10:00 a.m., I got a call from a recruiter from the Detroit branch of the company working with me on the Rochester job. She needed to fill a local position quickly. I arrived at her office at noon and interviewed with three people from the team I would be working with. At 2:30 p.m., she called me and offered me the job. I accepted. I start next Monday. It is a close commute, pays well and uses great technology.

I felt thrilled, giddy and strange for the whole day. I called many people. They were as shocked as I was at the amazing speed with which I learned of and obtained this job. My wife was overjoyed. I would be working again; we would not have a commuter marriage or have to sell the house and she would not lose her job, friends and family. The whole thing is still a little unbelievable.

Throughout my unemployment, I've gotten great support from family and friends. Many people have prayed for me. I am not religious (agnostic, not atheist). My recent experience, though, has made me question that stance. I have felt taken care of during the last several months. My sudden employment feels like a miracle. It makes me want to explore prayer and faith and focus less on living the good life and more on being good in life.

I plan to write more posts about my unemployment experience. For now, though, I'm just happy and ready to join the working world again.

Coming to a Town Near You

Last night, I played in the pit orchestra for some very good show choirs from a local high school. It was their final concert of the school year and the last concert for their seniors. There was a mixture of smiles and tears as each senior said a few words. Then, over the strains of “"Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye," the choir choreographer announced where each senior planned to go to college.

I, too, will soon make a transition. I have decided to leave Michigan to find work. I have applied to several companies out of state over the past few weeks. Now, a few of them (in New York, Ohio, Wisconsin and Florida) are considering hiring me. I hope to start working for one of them in the next month.

This was not an easy choice. Aside from occasional weekends, I will be away from my wife, father and friends (Mrs. CA could join me in a year or so). However, my wife and I agree that it’s necessary. There are no jobs for me here. Each passing month that I don’t work makes my experience less relevant to employers. I will not lose my best opportunity to earn a good living waiting for a state economic comeback that may be years ahead.

As I watched the seniors look forward with enthusiasm, I looked forward full of questions. Will being a split family work? Will my wife and I be happy in the new place? Will she be able to find a job? What about my musical career? These questions cause me some apprehension but not enough to keep me from finding the answers.

Whether it’s work, school or a relationship, I have always had a hard time leaving. I feel more secure in the familiar and comfortable. It is difficult to leave the only place I’ve ever called home. Nevertheless, it feels like the right thing to do.

So, I may be coming to a town near you. I’ll keep you posted as details develop.

Losing It

When I was 38 years old, I belonged to a large Unitarian church on the west side of town. One of the parishioners, an older woman acquaintance, was a palm reader. She offered to read my palm quickly and I agreed. “You will soon meet a woman who will change your life, a ‘bolt of lightning,’” she said. “In your late forties, you will begin a very difficult time. Many things will go badly. Eventually, though, you’ll get through them.”

These may sound like easy predictions to you but they were uncannily accurate. A month later, I met Mrs. CA, indeed a bolt of lightning, whom I married shortly thereafter. When I was 48, the bad stuff started to happen. I joined a very stressful, undermanned project that drove me crazy for most of the next three years. My mother died. My father went blind, came to live with us and suffered prostate and skin cancer. Finally, late last year, I had to accept a “special early retirement” (the “get out or else” plan) from my job because of the bad economy.

The hits have kept on coming. Our tax bill ended up higher than expected because I lost my job (it’s complicated). I haven’t found a new job after over four months of looking. I have worried about paying the bills. I have often felt useless.

Some people whom I tell about my unemployment act as if I have a disease. This offended me at first but makes sense the more I think about it. Unemployment and the setbacks that preceded it are all losses. This explains why I am going through the five stages of grief from the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross book, On Death and Dying.

It started with Denial. I was sure that I’d get a job within a month or two. After all, I had good technical skills and years of experience. Then, I felt Anger. I couldn’t understand why employers wouldn’t even interview me for positions I was four times qualified for. After a while, I was Bargaining. I’d take any IT position, even if it didn’t help my career and didn’t pay enough. Finally, Depression set in. I became convinced that I’d never get a job that would pay even half of what I made before or let me use my intelligence and training. Here I’d come, Wal-Mart and McDonald’s – with all the other white-collar workers – if you’d take me.

That’s where I’ve been until today, when Acceptance arrived. Today, for the first time in a while, I see my situation clearly. It is what it is. I have no control over the economy, my lack of mobility or employers’ willingness to pick my resume from the pile of 200. I can’t know if and when my situation will get better. However, I can control my reactions. I can feel the pain without letting it disable me. I can be resolute without forgetting to have fun. My future may not be the one I always imagined for myself but that doesn’t mean that I have no future.

For the first time in a couple of months, I feel some peace and satisfaction. The irony is that I coped with my losses by losing some more: the idea that I’m responsible for and in control of my status; unreasonable pessimism or optimism; a sense of entitlement; and a feeling that I’m nobody if I don’t have a well-paying, intellectually-challenging job. I’m sure that it will be difficult to maintain this posture but I’m going to try because I feel reborn. Or, given the day, should I say resurrected?

Hitting the Concrete, Invisible

I have been a software developer for over 22 years. If I’ve learned anything in that time, it helps to be comfortable with abstraction. Abstraction is the expression of an idea a level or more removed from a concrete implementation. Much of software development consists of understanding abstract ideas and making them real.

Unemployment used to be an abstract idea to me. I heard the stories of layoffs and people losing their homes on the news. I felt sympathy. However, I never knew the real feelings and experience of someone out of a job.

Now that I have been out of work for almost three months, unemployment is concrete. It feels like crap. I sometimes feel as though I am not pulling my weight, a drag on society. I worry a lot. I don’t sleep well. I watch every dollar. When I hear people coolly giving advice to the unemployed (go back to school, move to another state, etc.), I think, “Wait until it happens to you.”

In addition to being jobless, I am also invisible. I accepted a “special early retirement” package (i.e. take this or we’ll lay you off). It amounts to very little, what I would get on unemployment. As a condition of the package, though, I cannot file for unemployment benefits. Since I don’t file, the government doesn’t count me in the unemployment percentage rate that you hear in the media.

I’m a lot luckier than many. My wife works (bless you, dear). So far, we are making it, albeit by dipping into emergency savings. However, hitting the concrete, invisible not only hurts but gives me a voice that no one can hear.