Month: November 2019

The Power of Thank You

Sometimes, words carry extra weight.

Think of Abraham Lincoln delivering The Gettysburg Address. Ronald Reagan demanding Mr. Gorbachev, Tear Down This Wall. Jim Valvano imploring Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.

These speeches have captivated our society. These words helped change our perspective and even altered the course of history.

They are powerful indeed.

But the most impactful words out there are actually quite simple: Thank you.

Thank you is brief and ubiquitous. We say it reflexively at times. We add it to our letters and emails by default.

Viewed this way, thank you looks like a formality. An expression of politeness, to be sure, but a formality nonetheless.

But don’t be fooled. These two words have a far deeper meaning than that.

In a world where we are quick to assert our independence, saying thank you indicates humility. It reminds us that we can only get so far on our own. And that the assistance of others is critical to our success.

Recognizing that, and expressing our appreciation, means everything.

In our culture of individualism, we all too often treat reliance on others as a sign of weakness.

As a compromising flaw in the human condition. As a bug in our software.

But reliance is no bug. It’s a feature.

We have relied on others throughout our history. As far back as ancient times, humans have banded together to avoid falling prey to lethal threats surrounding them.

Protecting the future of humanity has always been essential. And the best way to achieve that objective has been to avoid going it alone.

Even the earliest books of the Bible allude to this principle.

When Moses parted the Red Sea, he wasn’t simply going his own way. He was liberating his people from bondage.

Conversely, when Eve wandered alone in the Garden of Eden, she came upon the serpent of temptation. She bit into the forbidden apple, and humanity was cast out of paradise.

The lesson is stark. Going it alone is a recipe for disaster.

As I write this, Western society is fraught with unprecedented divisiveness.

Isolationism is at its peak, and polarization has poisoned public discourse. Facts are under attack, eclipsed by partisan theories and agendas.

Self-reliance is having a moment right now. And those Thank yous in our daily conversations and our email threads have never felt more hollow.

We don’t often think about the paradox this presents. After all, this behavior is now considered normal. And we find little inherent need to cross-examine normalcy.

But the irony grows thicker toward the end of the year, when gratitude is baked into our schedules.

In November, we celebrate those who serve in our military and then have a big meal in celebration of each other. In December, we shower each other with gifts before making a toast about the year to come.

It’s an intriguing eight-week run. One that causes us to reflect on what we have, why we have it and what we have to look forward to.

But our toxic divisiveness has turned this once-joyous period into a chore.

Appreciating veterans for their service has been turned into a litmus test for patriotism. Or a verdict on foreign policy.

Sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner now means going to battle with those at the table who have different views. Or perpetuating our filter bubble if no differences in opinion are present.

Unwrapping gifts on Christmas now means reviving the debate over whether America is a Christian nation. Even as the Constitution clearly separates religion from governance.

And ringing in the New Year now means lamenting how awful the prior year was, and approaching the new one with skepticism.

Our quest to reach self-reliance has reached its destination. And the misery it sows is now swallowing us whole.

We blame The Other for our plight. After all, is what the self-reliance playbook tells us to do.

But that only further deludes us from the truth.

Many years ago, a group of English settlers sat down for a feast on a chilly fall day.

The settlers had left England on some wooden ships, escaping religious persecution there. They crossed the Atlantic Ocean, hoping to land in the recently established Virginia territory and set up a colony there.

But this was centuries before GPS or motorized vessels, and the voyagers drifted off course. They ended up more than 500 miles up the coast from Virginia, in the region that would come to be known as Massachusetts.

The settlers were ill equipped for the frigid winters of the region, or the way the climate hardened the soil.

The attempts to go it alone had failed miserably. Many died of cold and starvation in that first winter. And the survivors seemed doomed to face the same fate, sooner or later.

Yet, the settlers reversed course. They turned to native tribes in the area for assistance in planting crops and building weather-resistant shelter.

Once the harvest was done, the settlers invited the natives to share in a feast of appreciation. A feast that is replicated each year. And one that will take place once again on the week I am writing about this.

Looking back now, this all seems quite remarkable. For we know what happened next.

The fledgling settlements in Virginia and Massachusetts grew into English colonies. Those colonies broke free of England and became the United States. The new nation expanded westward, the surge led by pioneers and frontiersmen out for their own interests. And native tribes like the ones who sat down for that first Thanksgiving dinner were villainized and confined to reservations.

Yes, our entire history has been defined by a divergence from that moment. From the point we thanked others for helping us survive to our current edict of Individualism-At-All-Costs.

We have forgotten our roots. We have abandoned the inclination to rely on each other, and to appreciate each other.

And in the process, we have become lost.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

The power to change our narrative remains in our hands.

We can start by expressing gratitude, as we do each year amongst heapings of turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce and pie.

But we must dig deeper.

We should consider what a Thank you represents. Namely, appreciation for the assistance of others.

We should swallow our pride, and stop running from this assistance. Instead, we should seek it out when we are in need. And we should return the favor to others in need.

These actions represent humanity at its most efficient. These actions show humanity at its best.

Gratitude can be the gateway to this ideal. But only if we open our hearts and our minds to the principles it espouses.

There is great power in thank you. It’s time that we start using it.

Dueling Interpretations

Not long after I started working in television news, I encountered a strange term.

HIPAA.

This acronym might sound like something you’d see at the zoo. But it actually stands for the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act.

HIPAA protects personally identifiable health information. And as a news producer, HIPAA meant that health records were a no-fly zone for me.

If someone was injured in an accident or crime that made my newscast, I couldn’t give any updates on their status.

I couldn’t do this because I didn’t have access to the victim’s health records. Those were protected from journalists like me by the regulation.

I accepted this.

For I recognized there was a good reason for HIPAA. And I figured that the regulation would fend off other entities looking to access sensitive information as well.

So, imagine my surprise when I learned recently that Google has access to these classified records.

It’s true. Google has been partnering with a healthcare network called Ascension to gather the personal health information of millions of people.

The partnership has been dubbed Project Nightengale. And unlike other health data sharing agreements, the information Google has been receiving from Ascension has not been anonymized. That means patients’ names and dates of birth are present in the data set.

While I left the news industry long before this story broke, I was still rankled by it.

That’s illegal, I thought. That arrangement violates HIPAA.

But I was wrong.

Since Google is considered a business associate of Ascension, the tech giant is in the clear. HIPAA specifically allows health providers to pass data to third parties in order to improve patient care. And, lo and behold, that was the stated objective of Project Nightengale.

Of course, the cynics among us — myself included — see right through this façade. We can point to Google’s traditional intentions — profit through advertising revenue — and start musing about how the company might cash in off our most sensitive data.

It’s an upsetting thought. But not one without merit.

And there’s not much we can do about it.

There is no chance that lawmakers had an arrangement like Google’s in mind when they drafted HIPAA in 1996.

After all, Google hadn’t even been founded yet. And the Internet consisted mostly of America Online CDs and those iconic dial-up connection tones.

But even if legislators could have seen this nascent issue brewing, they likely couldn’t have done much to prevent it.

For Google has taken a deft approach to entering the healthcare market. The Silicon Valley behemoth has leveraged its advantages in data management to secure the Project Nightengale partnership. And it has done all this in the name of improving the healthcare process.

These types of opportunities are within the bounds of HIPAA. This is a main reason why Project Nightengale was allowed to proceed.

But Google’s true intentions as a company — growth in advertising opportunities, revenue and profit — run counter to the entire act.

HIPAA was specifically designed to keep marketers, advertisers and salespeople from exploiting our sensitive health information. But Google now has open access to just that.

In other words, Project Nightengale is a Trojan Horse. It’s allowed the fox into the henhouse.

The Project Nightengale loophole is a prime example of a broad interpretation of a regulation.

Broad interpretations encourage free enterprise. They provide ample opportunities for people and companies explore and create. But that’s not always a good thing.

Indeed, many use a broad interpretation of a law to meet prioritize their own needs and objectives. They sidestep the spirit of a rule for their own selfish gain.

This might sound excessively sinister. But it proves itself true, time and again.

Consider the Rooney Rule, for instance.

This regulation states that whenever there’s a head coach opening in the National Football League, the team must interview a minority candidate as part of the hiring process.

The Rooney Rule was designed with the best of intentions — to get more African-American and Hispanic coaches a chance to get a head coaching gig. But in practice, it rarely works as intended.

These days, many NFL teams simply go through token interviews with minority candidates. They have little intention on following through with a job offer, as they already have their sights set on a different coach. One who’s older, more experienced — and whiter.

So, they do the interview with the minority candidate, and quickly move on.

This practice technically complies with the Rooney Rule. But it pierces a dagger through the spirit of it.

Minority candidates are still not given a fair shake. If anything, they’re being further exploited.

On the other side of the spectrum lies the narrow interpretation.

This is the literal expression of the rule. The letter of the law. The words on the page without any added context.

If the broad interpretation is easy to exploit, the narrow interpretation is quite the opposite. For the words on the page are as restrictive as they are unambiguous.

Think of the Ten Commandments. And all the Thou Shalt Nots.

Thou shalt not murder. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbor.

Whether we’re secular or not, we take the narrow interpretation on these edicts as a society.

There is no wiggle room. We can’t keep in the spirit of the rule while we flaunt it. Murder, theft and lying are all forbidden acts. We must avoid them or face harsh consequences.

Over the years, many have embraced the narrow interpretation. Religious zealots have pounded the Bible. Conservative politicians have wrapped themselves in the Constitution. And exacting supervisors have demanded adherence to the employee handbook.

It’s easy to see why this view has such a draw. It provides authoritative clarity in a world that’s all too often murky and gray.

But don’t be fooled. The narrow interpretation is no panacea.

 

Some of the great Supreme Court justices have relied on the narrow interpretation. But so have some of the most legendary mobsters.

Indeed, our obsession with by-the-book justice helped gangsters like Al Capone and Whitey Bulger become notorious.

Sure, under the narrow interpretation, Capone and Bulger would be considered rule breakers. In theory, they would be castigated as murderers, thieves and liars.

But Capone and Bulger did much of their bidding through associates. Through coded instructions and well-defined syndicates.

And under United States law, that made them nearly impossible to catch.

Yes, federal law enforcement officials went after them. But their hands were tied by the narrow interpretation of two words from the Constitution: Probable cause.

These two words made it difficult for the feds to get search warrants or arrest warrants. These two words effectively prolonged the reigns of terror of Capone and Bulger.

This is the problem with the narrow interpretation. It doesn’t adapt with the times. And because of that, it can be easily short-circuited.

It can keep us from killing each other. Unless our name is Al Capone.

So, which path should we allow to guide us? The narrow one or the broad one?

It’s hard to say.

Each has its benefits. But each has its drawbacks.

When I think of my sensitive health information in Google’s hands, I wish that the interpretation of HIPAA was narrower. I wish that I still had the final sign-off for sharing information about my own body.

But when I think of all the criminals who evade justice on a technicality, I wish the interpretation of the law was broader. I wish there wasn’t free license for mobsters and corruption to run unchecked.

With this in mind, it’s probably best to follow a hybrid interpretation. To go narrow when enforcing specific guidelines designed to protect us. And to go broad when enforcing the more general ones.

Going hybrid would require us to completely overhaul our approach.

Instead of focusing on the regulation itself, we would need to focus on the effect. On what activity the rule is prohibiting. And who would be harmed by that activity if it was allowed to remain unchecked.

This would take more due diligence. And it would open the door to more ambiguity.

But these inconveniences would be worth it.

For rules and regulations are more than text on a page. When drafted well, they serve as signals of intent to protect us.

It’s about time we honor that spirit. And govern ourselves accordingly.

Blank Slate

Every day is a new chance to start fresh.

That is what we’re told, from Day One. It’s what we believe.

After all, we live in a land built on liberty and opportunity. In a culture where we root for the underdog. In a society where we’re motivated by tales of redemption.

It’s invigorating knowing that we can write our own story. It’s revitalizing knowing that no matter how rough things might be today, there’s always the chance to start anew tomorrow.

Yes, the blank slate is central to our being. It’s how we define ourselves.

Yet, that very definition iss a myth.

 

We see it on the news all the time. Celebrities having a meltdown.

There’s that infamous clip of Tom Cruise jumping up and down on a couch during a taping of the Oprah Winfrey Show. There’s that avalanche of embarrassing Britney Spears headlines from 2007. There’s Antonio Brown — perhaps the most talented wide receiver in football — burning bridges with three National Football League teams in one year due to a series of off-field antics.

It’s a sad sight. People we recognize — people we think we know — hitting rock bottom.

Tom Cruise and Britney Spears have managed to revitalize their careers, and their images. The jury’s still out on Antonio Brown.

But in all cases, the slate isn’t exactly blank.

In the world of the 24/7 news cycle, of YouTube and of social media spotlights, those moments of infamy live on. Even if those involved have since moved beyond their lowest moments.

And this phenomenon isn’t restricted to this digitally-enabled millennium either. Politicians in the United States and Canada have recently been accused of wearing blackface in their younger years. While the evidence of these transgressions often comes in the form of grainy yearbook photos, the backlash remains fresh as the morning dew.

We can’t just wipe the slate clean. We can’t treat the past as it if didn’t happen. We can’t just start over.

For even if we don’t have paparazzi following our every move or a criminal record sullying our name, we have baggage.

The choices we’ve made have left a mark. Whether officially — such as on a credit report or resume — or unofficially.

No matter what we do to reboot, we have a history.

Time accumulates experiences. Those experiences become lodged in our memory banks, stimulating our senses and forever altering our perspective.

So long as our mind remains intact — that is, so long as we remain free of a traumatic brain injury — our judgment will be biased by what we have seen, felt and learned. Our past experiences — good and bad — will inform our future decisions, regardless of whether we’re sticking with old routines or looking to start new ones.

No matter how hard we try, the slate will never be clean.

I find the blank slate conundrum deeply personal. For I have encountered it, time and again.

I’ve moved to three new cities in my adult life. And I’ve cut my teeth in two different careers.

That’s a lot of change for anyone. But it’s particularly grueling for an introverted control enthusiast.

Why would I take myself so far out of my comfort zone? Why would I break with the routine I rely on, over and over?

Money and ambition are two reasons. I aspire for a brighter future, just as many do. And the bills don’t pay themselves.

But that’s only part of the story.

The true catalyst for the changes I’ve made has been the illusion of the blank slate. The myth of the fresh start.

At each turn, I’ve relished the chance to unleash my untapped potential. To explore new possibilities. To become a new man.

That often meant downplaying my prior history. It meant shunning my origin story. And it meant forgetting about all the left turns I took along the way.

After all, I didn’t want my past to define me. I was all about my present and my future.

It was only after years of adulthood that I realized how ridiculous this notion was.

I now recognize that the past is an indelible part of me. It’s allowed me to gain new friends, unforgettable moments and invaluable lessons at every turn. It’s what made me who I am.

These days, I can finally embrace that fact. A fact I should have understood a long time ago.

So now, as I reach an age where many second-guess the decisions of their youth, I refuse to do just that. For I can see that those decisions — and all that they unlocked — made me precisely who I am.

And I wouldn’t trade a thousand blank slates for that.

There is no moving on. There’s only moving forward.

This is the gist of Nora McInerny’s brilliant TED Talk about grief.

McInerny proves a powerful point.

After we lose someone we love, we can’t just turn the page. Our bond with that person remains a part of us, through our memories.

So, while we might yearn to start a new chapter, starting over is out of the question.

We move forward. But we don’t move on.

I believe this philosophy applies to life as a whole, as well.

For while our journeys may differ, we are all sure to face tough times now and then. We’re sure to face moments of doubt, of fear, of yearning.

In these moments, we’ll want to step away from the pain of the present. We’ll find ourselves magnetically drawn to the potential of a brighter future, and repulsed by the shackles of circumstance in our past.

We might take this leap. We just might break free from the ordinary and launch ourselves into the unknown.

But this break will not be clean. This will be a new chapter, not a whole new start.

That trusty rearview mirror will still guide us, for better or for worse. The joy, the pain, the gains and the losses will all provide direction for our next escapade — either vividly or subconsciously.

This is a beautiful thing. A powerful thing. A human thing.

So no, the blank slate does not exist. But we should be thankful for that.

For it is only through the its absence that we can truly experience what it means to be alive.

The Error Term

When you hear the word beautiful, what comes to mind?

Maybe it’s a golden sunset. Or a vista of snow-capped mountains. Or the elegant grace of wild horses running free.

Those are all beautiful sights, no doubt.

But when I hear the word beautiful, I think of something else entirely. I think of a regression function.

You’re probably thinking this is an odd choice. And you’re right.

Beauty is supposed to be about the majesty of nature. About the tenderness of emotion.

A regression equation seemingly has little of either of these sentiments.

It’s a string of numbers, letters and symbols. As cold and calculating as a movie villain. As dry as day-old ink on the page.

Still, there is a method to my preference.

How could there not be? After all, method is math’s bread and butter.

So, let’s break it down.

At its core, a regression function is an explanation.

It explains how one variable is impacted by others.

For instance, we could run a regression to see how interest rates impact home prices. Or how days with cold temperatures impact doctors’ visits.

We could even look at the impacts of two different variables. For example, how the local football team’s performance impacts the number of traffic accidents on the city’s streets and the amount of nightly revenues at the city’s restaurants.

With enough data, we can look at just about anything. The regression model is simply the tool we use to transform the data into something worth talking about.

Now, this data-driven explanation doesn’t necessarily show cause and effect. After all, a golden rule of statistics is that Correlation does not equal causation.

No, a regression equation simply shows how the variables are related. How two — or three, or four — elements tend to work together.

This knowledge is what allows us to make predictions. It can help meteorologists build 10 day weather forecast models. It can help political consultants handicap future election results. And it can help business managers make shrewd strategic pivots.

In all these cases, the data speak volumes. The regression equations provide evidence to guide the prognosticators in their choices. They seem to illuminate the path ahead, like runway lights at an airport.

But while a strong regression can give a forecaster confidence, the process is far from failproof.

We’ve all seen a time where the weathercaster was flat out wrong. Where the pollster missed the mark. Or where a company’s bold moves fell flat.

When this happens, we’re quick to assign blame.

We rush to shame the experts for getting it wrong. For leading us astray. For not being perfect.

This is ridiculous — for multiple reasons.

For one thing, perfection is not an attainable ideal. Mistakes are a fact of life, and we all slip up from time to time. There’s no need to call out others for being human.

But just as importantly, regression models themselves are not perfect.

If you were to write out a regression equation, it would likely look something like this.

y = ß0 + ß 1x1 + ß 2x2 + e

The y’s and x’s show the part of the equation that can be predicted. This section of the equation shows how a change in variable y tends to impact variable x1 or x2.

This is the part of the equation that prognosticators — weathercasters, pollsters, business leaders — rely on. And they’re right to do so — most of the time.

But that e at the end of the equation represents something totally different.

The e stands for the error term — the part of the model that can’t be predicted.

This is the randomness, the chaos, the side effects that can’t be explained.

Statisticians do their best to build models that reduce that e term as much as possible. To isolate the exact factors that explain a relationship between multiple variables.

Still, no matter how much they try and remove all error, it remains.

That might seem like a problem. But I believe it’s a good thing.

For the world is neither simple nor clean. It can’t be neatly organized in boxes, wrapped in paper and topped with bows.

No, the world is inherently messy. It can defy logic and be straight-up perplexing at times.

The error term captures this reality. It captures life in its purest form.

This is why I love the error term. This is why I associate a regression equation with beauty.

And this is why I believe the error term requires more attention from all of us.

Throughout our daily lives, we do our best to prepare.

We brush our teeth, shower and put on climate-appropriate clothing. We add appointments and events to our calendar. We map out our immediate and future spending needs.

We do what we can so that we’re ready to act decisively now and in the future.

I am no stranger to this behavior. Indeed, I tend to obsess over preparation and organization.

This laser-sharp focus is a net benefit. It allows us to be presentable and to make proper decisions.

But relying solely on this approach can get us off track.

For life is defined by the error term. By the instances when things take an unexpected left turn. By the moments we can’t possibly prepare for.

These changes of pace, these shocks to the system — they do more than spice things up. They test our mettle.

These are the moments that define our lives. These are the occurrences that unlock ingenuity and innovation. These are the opportunities for us to display our humanity.

We build emotional connections by navigating the error term. Those connections lead to storytelling, as we share accounts of our experience through visuals, through audio and through the written word. And those stories we tell ourselves — they help shape our culture.

It’s time we embrace the error term. It’s time we stop obsessing on all that can be explained, and that we come to terms with what confounds us.

This is what will allow us to live our lifes to the fullest. To treasure the journey with a clear and open mind.

To err is human. Let’s get back in touch with our humanity.