Emails Forever

I receive a couple hundred emails a day. I cannot ignore them; I cannot escape them; I cannot hide from them. Sure I can leave an automated response that I am in Siberia, but they will just keep coming and piling up like winter snow in my birth city of Chicago.

I appreciate the instant communication emails provide. Just this week I received an email from my sister-in-law in the US that my brother was hospitalized and I was able to call him when I awoke in the morning. Emails make me much more productive at work and allow me to keep in touch with the relatives back home. But emails do have drawbacks and consume incredible amounts of time; I have this periodic desire to escape the electronic reach of my blackberries..

I have a trip planned to Darwin soon and thought I would take a day and go bushwalking in a remote area of the Northern Territory. Surely, there is no email reception there (actually I have been to Siberia and there is email there). Alternatively, a colleague told me I should take a 4-wheel drive trip through the Kimberley where there is no email or mobile phone reception.

But that would mean I would have a couple thousand emails waiting for me when I emerged from the wilderness. Emails do not expire like the biodegradable bags that are popular today but are useless in holding heavier groceries – they seem to degrade before I arrive home.

I have 7 email accounts, which eagerly fill up every day with various missives. Why so many? Well, I have an email address at work (that is one). Then I have my email address for my consulting firm which is inactive but registered with various government agencies and investment companies (that is #2). I have a personal email account from the US (#3), and when I moved to Australia Telstra gave me an email account when I signed up for Internet service (#4). Only I did not like the Telstra email name and they would not let me change it (I know because I talked to about 15 guys in India and finally gave up), so I added another Telstra email name that I can actually remember (#5). And then there is my old AOL email address (#6) I had for years before my ex wife took the email account with her as part of the divorce. Then she found out she could not change the email address of record with AOL (they must have a relationship with Telstra), so she has to keep my old account active as long as she wants to use her account. I still receive occasional emails from old acquaintances that do not have any of my other 6 account addresses. Finally, my blackberry comes with its own email address (#7). Now if I could only remember the passwords.

To keep track of my emails, I need 2 blackberries. One is for work and the other consolidates the other 6 personal accounts. Now if I could only remember the blackberry passwords too.

I always respond to personal emails; it is important to me to acknowledge when someone takes the time to send me a note. I do not respond to junk mail or the letters from Nigeria informing me they are holding $100 million for me but they are having trouble sending it to me. But I do respond to other copious emails each day.

The other day I sent an email to a woman with a request to meet for coffee. She, like me, responds to emails even if she is not interested. So she sends me a nice email declining the invitation due to a conflict. Since I respond to all personal emails, I sent her an email thanking her for responding. Since she feels compelled to respond to emails too, she sent me a note thanking me for responding to her response. I am getting ready to respond to her response to my response.

This could be a good story. Two people who have nothing in common other than they both feel it is proper and courteous to respond to letters and emails are caught in eternal email ping-pong. At first, they were irritated to respond so often to spurious emails, but eventually they came to look forward to the routine and familiar comfort from regular contact. After 25 years, the emails ceased. The system of email had been replaced by thought mail – you think something and the thought is transmitted. Unfortunately, he could not adjust and his attempts and sending thoughts often went awry. So he finally gave up, and the emails ceased. But they were fun and comforting for years.

Back to reality. I am uncertain what to do with the deluge of emails. I am reminded of a former US Senator who replied to various constituent letters by saying, “Dear sir, I thought you should know that an idiot has been sending me correspondence and using your good name.” Unfortunately, I would still need to read all the emails before I could identify the undesired senders. so this does not work either.

For junk mail and marketing solicitations, I used to “unsubscribe” to the sender’s list. I have since learned that this action only serves to confirm you have a legitimate email address that now can be sold to other mass mailing services, resulting in a quantum increase in emails received.

Until I figure out a better solution, I will just keep responding to personal emails and ignoring emails from marketing services, get rich schemes, banks where I do not have accounts, and assorted other nuisances. But it is nice to know my brother is fine and the guy in Africa is still holding my $100 million.

Staying Awake

There are times when just staying awake is a challenge despite time of day and circumstances. Take Tuesday for example.

In a late effort to get in shape, I arose at 5 AM and had a good hour on the elliptical machine. It was exhausting, but the endorphins kicked in and it was a great start on my new fitness campaign. Caffeine at 8:00 and more caffeine at 10 and 12. Lots of meetings followed including a business luncheon with a glass of wine. Generally, I felt good all day but was beginning to fade a bit late afternoon.
5:30 PM arrived too soon and it was time to meet a friend for a light dinner of tapas at an outdoor sidewalk café. We split a bottle of Australian pinot; I really did not need wine but it was a nice complement to dinner. Conversation was good as always; food provided renewed energy; wine afforded relaxation after a busy day. I felt tired but was coping and acquired my second (or third or fourth) wind.

The piano concert that followed started at 7 PM. This would surely test my ability to remain awake. The famous pianist, Nikolai Demidenko, was the performer. The stage was bare except for a magnificent Steinway grand piano. The setting was a wonderful Sydney concert hall – Angel Place – which provides much better acoustics that the Sydney Opera House. Nikolai’s fingers flew over the keyboard; at times they paused in mid-air hovering, only to descend with a dramatic but fluid motion into the keys below. My friend called it a ballet of the hands. He was really good.

The music flowed from the Steinway in melodic streams. Thematic movements came and went and came again. Chopin would be pleased with how his music was treated.

After watching and listening for a while, the dimmed audience lighting coupled with the tender music made me feel increasingly tired; the mind said stay alert but the body said go to sleep. The effects of food and earlier coffees had passed. Then it became a sedentary appreciation of surrounding music and low light. I fought to stay awake. It would be very embarrassing to fall asleep.

I looked around the beautiful concert hall; I counted lights; I noticed lots of objects appeared in 4’s: l looked at the back heads of the audience and tried to guess what the faces look like. Finally, an intermission. I stood and stretched and talked and stifled my yawns.

Then the lights dimmed again, and the music returned. Now Demidenko attacked Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. This piece was faster, louder, and bolder. But it was also a very long piece. Every time I thought it was coming to conclusion, another stanza began. This was War and Peace on a piano. I felt myself about to succumb despite my efforts to stay alert. I played games focusing my eyes on near and far objects. The sandman hovered.

Finally, Nikolai concluded a masterful performance. I jumped to my feet and applauded waking in the moment. Others applauded; he exited and I was ready to go home and go to bed. But alas he returned and began an encore. It should have been over but it continued. The audience was happy; I wanted to go to bed.

Finally it appeared to be over. More applause but no standing. This time it was more polite and less enthusiastic; others must be tired too. Two hours of music is a long time, especially on a Tuesday night. He exited; he returned; he sat down and began another encore. I felt I was about to die.

The lights finally brightened; no more encores. Time for home; time for bed. Good-bye to my companion; instead of the train or walking, I took a taxi – too tired to move. Sleep at last but tomorrow is only Wednesday.

The Great Kayak Adventure

History is filled with explorers taking big and not so big ships on great voyages of discovery. In the 1500’s, a Portuguese expedition apparently sailed to Australia. In the 1600’s several European ships came upon Australia, and in the late 1700’s, British expeditions stopped and claimed Australia for themselves. This was about the time the Americans were throwing the Brits out of the American colonies, so maybe the English needed a new place to go. The biggest adventurers were probably the early Aboriginals, who showed up about 13,000 BC but neglected to tell anyone.

Last week I had lunch with the Governor General of Australia. She seemed like a very nice lady, but I asked the guy sitting next to me why Australia had a Governor General. The only generals in the U.S., where I come from, wear military fatigues, have crew cuts, and look even tougher than the kids who used to hang out in the alleys of Berwyn, Illinois, when I was a kid. Quentin Bryce looks or acts nothing like any generals I have met. The guy next to me said the Governor General was appointed by the Queen (i.e. The Queen of England – Aussies don’t have their own queen, maybe it’s a money saving idea if you want a Queen just borrow one).

I am digressing a bit from my later day exploration of the seas, which occurred this morning. A friend (to save her embarrassment let’s call her "J") and I decided to explore the wilds of Sydney Harbour. A power boat (sometimes referred to as ‘stinkpots’) or big sail boat (always referred to as ‘financial holes’) would have been too easy. We decided to explore by kayak, perhaps replicating the early travels of natives thousands of years ago.

I have never been in a kayak; J was in one once. There are some differences I was surprised to find between modern kayaks and American canoes, with which I am more familiar. The kayak has cool compartments for towels and stuff. Everything still gets wet, but the idea of compartments and tight fighting tops with straps and bands that make it hard for everything but water to enter (including humans) is neat.

Kayaks have a rudder and pedals. This is especially gratifying when you are in a two person kayak and the other person is sitting in the front thinking she is determining the course. It is like being a back seat driver in a car but steering the car from pedals in the back. It gives one a great sense of power, which can be exercised so subtly that the person in front does not know you are steering, unless of course you hit the rocks, which we almost did once.

The kayak rental office has a very large sign and map on the wall prohibiting renters from going too far out into the Harbour. A big black line on the map extends from a lighthouse across the mouth of the Middle Harbour. It reminded me of military maps showing where the minefields were or early navigation maps depicting where the ship-eating dragons lay in wait. I do not know how we signed all the forms and never noticed the big map with the big black line.

Armed with weird shaped paddles, life jackets, water bottles, and sunscreen, we soon embarked on our journey of exploration after being warned the ship was due back in 2 hours unless we wanted to pay more. I cannot imagine the King of England telling Captain Phillip he needed to return by whenever in 1788 or he would be charged more rent for the boat. Oh for the good old days.

After avoiding being run over by speedy stinkpots and bisected by financial holes, we managed to cross the bay and follow the shoreline of beautiful beaches and friendly natives playing in the waves. Soon we were well past the lighthouse, which seemed vaguely familiar but J did not remember it either when asked.

After missing the rocks by the lighthouse (the ship’s log – if the ship had a log - would have noted we were well clear despite J’s protests otherwise), we followed the coast in search of some beach inhabited by ghosts, according to J. I am unsure why we were looking for ghosts but if I had hit the rocks maybe we would have found a few. There is also an area called Quarantine Beach J wanted to find; I was afraid to ask how the place got its name. Why would you ever want to go to a place called Quarantine?

We took in quite a bit of water from errant waves and the wake of boats (and totally unrelated to the ever capable steering) and decided we needed to beach the ship and bail it out before turning back; otherwise we would be swimming back. A pretty little beach lay directly ahead, but we had a bit of a rough arrival crashing on the beach carried by a larger wave. I managed to gash my arm when the rudder flipped upside down and then managed to cut my leg as the next wave crashed the boat into me as I was scrambling out.

Looking around, it was clear we landed at a nudist beach. The women mostly covered up when we crashed the party; the men, especially the overweight ones, stayed natural. Only in my nightmare would I land safely on a beach island occupied by clothed women and naked men.

So we stood there on Naked Men Island, trying to control a water filled boat too heavy to move and with me bleeding profusely. J rushed to find a bucket and bailed while I held the boat and tried to direct the flow of blood into the water and away from the boat seats. I realized shortly thereafter, I was scenting the water for sharks – just what we needed to add to the adventure.

Soon we were off again, having escaped the possible cannibals, and paddling back to port. Unfortunately, the wind had risen considerably and we were paddling directly into the headwinds. J tired after all the paddling, bailing, and pulling and pushing the boat on the beach and became the official lookout. I paddled furiously now convinced we needed to get back as fast as possible before every shark in Australia learned of a possible meatball sandwich in the yellow kayak in Middle Harbour.

We managed to paddle through two sailing regattas on the return trip and avoided the array of big and bigger boats. We missed the rocks again (yes our esteemed lookout reminded me often when things looked closer that they seemed to be from the rear seat), and we pushed through the determined wind. The sharks stayed away, and I finally stopped bleeding.

So in the chronicles of Australian explorations, let the footnote show Scott and J surveyed the coastline of a part of Sydney Harbour on 29 November 2009 and found it to be ever present.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

This morning I flunked the mirror test. This is really of great concern. I can’t think of anything worse than flunking the mirror test. The consequences are very bad. I looked again; maybe my aging eyesight is mistaken. No, it appears I really did fail to pass this essential test.

I have been fighting the tendency to gain weight my entire life. When I was young, there was a popular albeit sophomoric joke, “Do you want to lose 10 ugly pounds? Cut off your head.” While not as drastic a measure, when my weight creeps up, I eat less and try to exercise more. It is not a fun regime.

If you consult a doctor about ideal weight, he or she is likely to show average and ideal weight charts based on the latest research. The doc may calculate your BMI (Body Mass Index) or even more esoteric calculations like your waist to hip ratio.

I have less sophisticated ways to calibrate ideal and not so ideal weight measures including:

• The Scale Test. As referenced above, when my weight passes a certain line (170 pounds / 77 kilos), I know it is time.

• The Mirror Test. Whenever I can no longer bear to look at myself naked in the mirror, it is time to go on a diet.

• The Shrinking Pants Test. When my pants become too tight; it is not due to fabric contraction or improper cleaning, it is a clear message from the fat fairy.

So this morning I passed the scale test and my stretched jeans have not shrunk too badly but the mirror does not lie. I am not looking good even holding my stomach in and not breathing.

The challenge of weight management becomes more difficult with age. Over time, we shrink; I understand gravity does it. If you want to maintain that height of yesteryear, sign up for the next lunar mission. On earth, we are doomed.

Therefore it is possible to pass the scale test but flunk the mirror test as the body compresses and showcases the extra kilos. This is just not fair; but what else in the aging process is fair?

Why is losing weight so difficult and to be dreaded so? Probably because it is so easy to gain weight. Let me count the ways the solar system is aligned to make us fat and inhibit efforts to slim down.

• A Fat Baby is a Healthy Baby. Typical of the common beliefs when I was an infant, my mother felt a fat baby was a healthy baby. I think child diseases were a major concern then, and parents felt thin babies’ survival was more at risk than fat babies. So my generation received plenty of food as long as income was there to buy it. My generation has been overfed from our earliest years.

• We are surrounded by high-fat high-calorie tempting food. I often stop for a morning coffee on the way to work. Coffee shops have been able transform a no-calorie, no-fat product (coffee) into a high-fat, high-calorie offering by adding milk, creams and sugars. Then they complement the transformed coffee with high-fat, high-calorie muffins, brownies, biscuits, and cakes. Good luck trying to find something healthy at your local coffee bar.

• High-fat, high-calorie food tastes really good. We have grown up with hamburgers and chips, pizza, fried chicken, and other assorted good tasting bad-for-you stuff. What tastes better, a cupcake or an orange? If you’re not sure, let me tell you– it’s a cupcake with frosting.

• We are addicted to high-fat high-calorie food. Overeating is an addiction. If someone is addicted to smoking or hard drugs, they can quit albeit with difficulty. But you cannot quit eating food. Instead, we have to reduce the intake of what we are addicted to but we must keep consuming stuff or we will die. This is a very difficult position to be in.

• We are comforted by eating. When I am stressed, I often turn to food for comfort and security. I also need activity; I am never comfortable sitting quietly for long periods of time. Some drug company came up with a new disease, “restless leg syndrome.” I have restless body syndrome, but the answer for me is not drugs it is finding a better outlet than eating.

• Social and business settings require drinks and typically big lunches and dinners. This is true. Sometimes I can offset the big meals with a rigorous workout at the gym; other times I should offset big meals by eating less at other times, but this is very difficult. As I consume more, my body calls for even more input. And the weight creeps up, the demand for food increases.

• Friends think they are being nice by telling us how good we look instead of comparing us to a pachyderm in the zoo. Enough said.

Some of the common ways people try to lose weight are more form than substance. A few of my pet peeves follow. I am not a doctor and claim no medical knowledge or expertise but I will share some non-scientific and not necessarily accurate observations.


Common Myths of Overweight People and Diets

• People are fat because their metabolism is low. Wrong. I know lots of overweight people and they all eat more than I do. People are fat because they eat more than they need to sustain their activity level.

• People are fat because they have a “fat gene.” This is a new one. I have no doubt that people have different genetic issues and some may be more attracted to the satisfaction food can provide, but give me a break. This just means you have to be more careful in what you eat.

• You should not diet because you will just re-gain the lost weight. It is true that most who lose weight on a diet will regain the lost weight. However, if the same people never went on a diet and continued to gain at whatever rate they put on the extra pounds in the first place, how much heavier would they be without the time spent eating less? Every day spent eating less is a day not spent eating more.

• Walking burns calories and causes weight loss. Theoretically, if you walked all day, you would burn appreciable calories but you don’t burn many walking around the block. I figure I burn about 100 calories a mile (1.7 km). If I walk for 30 minutes at a brisk pace (say 15 minutes per mile), that is a lousy 200 calories. Eat a brownie and you need to walk for an hour to make up. Yes walking is good for your heart and circulation, just don’t walk to the neighbors’ house and figure you can afford a couple extra beers.

• Going to the gym reduces weight. I try to go to the gym 3 to 4 times a week. I have noticed that there are two types of people who go to the gym. Those who are focused and have a hard workout and those who hang around, socialize, and occasionally lie on the mats and meditate about working out. The latter group evidently assumes that by going to the gym, their mere presence causes the pounds to float away. Dream again.

• It is not how much you eat but what you eat. This is the basis of countless diet books, which all seem to sell well and make the authors bazillions of dollars. The basic fact is you consume a level of energy units (calories) and you burn a level of calories. When you consume too many, you gain weight; when you consume too few you lose weight. Most of the diet formulas are really schemes to reduce your caloric intake. Try eating less and you will achieve the same results.

• If you don’t clean your plate, children in India and China will starve. This theory was popular with The Greatest Generation (i.e. my mother) but the concept is not so great. I never understood the precise connection.

When I was doing work in India a few years ago, I had dinner with a family near Delhi. As the mother encouraged her son to eat more, I asked if her mother used the starving children in China and India story when she was a child. She replied, “Yes but not the China part.” That makes sense.

I have a friend who lives in Houston, Texas, who manages to stay if fairly good shape and never seems concerned about dieting and weight management. But I think Gary’s ideas may not be very scientific. Here are a few of his wisdoms passed on to me that seem to work for him.

• If you break something in two (like a biscuit), many of the calories escape into the air. If you break tasty morsels into multiple pieces, eating only a small piece at a time, most of the calories are simply lost.

• If you eat a piece of fruit or vegetable, that neutralizes bad stuff you also eat. Eat a banana and the secret stuff in the fruit attacks and removes the calories in a donut for example.

• Drinking water causes weight loss. Washing down biscuits and cakes with lots of water makes the calories flow through the body without stopping or adding fat.

• Eating while standing or walking makes the calories harder to collect in the body compared to eating while sitting. No wonder people who ‘eat on the run’ tend to be thinner.

• Hanging around thin people makes you thinner while hanging with fat people makes you fatter. This evidently has something to do with electrons and complicated physics. I guess the fat molecules hop across to others nearby. Have you noticed how couples are often both thin or fat? Proves the point.


I am not looking forward to next week after failing the mirror test today. I will recheck the mirror test tomorrow hoping for a miracle or temporary loss of eyesight, but it appears I am about to embark on a difficult journey that involves combating gravity, the alignment of the solar system, habits bred since birth, evil temptations on every street corner, addiction, and fewer and fewer role models. It sounds like a horror film; only it’s not a film. At least I have some handy techniques from Gary to help me through the process.

Something for Nothing

Ben Franklin, the American Statesman and colonial leader, was once quoted as saying, “A penny saved is a penny earned.” What he probably did not realize was he was establishing the basis for one of the world’s most powerful and impactful economic behaviors which has become a cornerstone for the capitalism and consumerism that has dominated world economies in the 20th and 21st centuries.

How do I know this? It is obvious.

Last week, I experienced the shear joy of exchanging my coffee shop punch card with the requisite 10 distinctive punches for a free cup of coffee. Getting something of value for free is the ultimate consumer victory. I was thrilled.

Upon later reflection and when the after glow of success had diminished, I realized the coffee shop punch card effectively let me save 30 cents a cup for 10 cups. With an outsized salary and considerable savings, 30 cents is just not material to my lifestyle. But it was not the amount saved that was important, it was the idea of getting something for nothing.

One example does not prove theory, however; so let me share the other examples.

Store coupons are a multi billion dollar business. The satisfaction of submitting coupons at the supermarket – 50 cents off on Campbell’s soup with a coupon – means it must be time to buy even if we already have soup. And store sales escalate with double or triple coupon promotions. How many people really need the 50 cents? Not as many as those who use the coupons.

Store loyalty cards are now popular. Every time I buy $400 (cumulative) of prescriptions at a certain pharmacy, they send me a $10 off coupon on my next purchase. This brings me back to collect my $10 worth of free merchandise. If they reduced their prices 2.5%, it would have the same economic affect but then I would not be getting something for free.

Airline miles are reaching absurd levels of non reward. Fly 50,000 miles on a major airline, and you are theoretically entitled to a free ticket. Only the airlines offer very few seats to mileage using customers and the seats are almost always to destinations that no one wants to go. But it is fun to watch the free miles accumulate and think you can use them someday.

When I was divorced, my wife demanded a share of the miles I accumulated during our marriage. I transferred Continental miles to her account as requested and at a cost of $750 per 50,000 miles imposed by Continental for the transfer. She immediately went out and used the miles to purchase a $500 ticket to fly to Houston and felt she was so lucky to find a mileage seat. Nice marketing Continental.

When I signed up for a credit card at my local bank, I was offered the choice of a free card or a fee based card that accumulated miles on Qantas. The mileage card made no sense economically but when I asked the banker, he told me everyone gets the mileage card. After paying the annual fee, the customers view they are getting miles for free.

Last year my company sent out traditional Holiday Cards at Christmas time but included a voucher for 2 free movie tickets. “Why would anyone care about 2 free tickets to the movie? I asked.” What little I knew. The tickets were very popular because the employees felt they received something for nothing.

Every month there is at least one outdoor market in my neighborhood. The card tables are filled with useless stuff but sales are brisk at perceived bargain prices. For example, you can buy candles that smell like vanilla beans for $10 compared to $15-$20 at department stores. It would not occur to me to go to a department store in search of a vanilla bean smelling candle; but now I don’t have to. And I bought it at a discount!

Ben Franklin’s admonition has spread around the world. The quest to find a bargain is portrayed in the cult Australian film, “The Castle”, as a dialog refrain between father and son as they buy useless stuff at perceived low prices.

So what drives our behavior to save pennies when our pockets are full of dollars? Perhaps it is Ben Franklin’s early words of advice. Or maybe it was the Great Depression and stories and behaviors passed down from that generation. Or maybe it is part of our consumer culture and one of the behavioral rules to play the game. I am not smart enough to know, but I do know 10 more coffees and I will get a free one.

The Importance of Banks

The three of us sat quietly in the conference room; there was not the customary banter about work and people. We waited for the phone to ring; but it remained still. We checked our Blackberries for that elusive message, but they were also at rest.

Night replaced day; employees left for home unaware of the tension that was building in Room 6.03. My young General Counsel asked me, the old, experienced hand with the grey hairs to prove it, “Is this normal?” “No,” I replied without elaboration.

It was my birthday; but I had no plans to celebrate. My family was far away; my mind focused on the crisis before us.

I am Chairman and CEO of one of the bigger companies in Australia; let’s call it Propco rather than the real name. But the Company is very real. We have 250 employees and another 350 employees in a sister company that is still tied to us financially. These employees depend on the Company for their livelihood. In a recession, there are no jobs for them if we fail. We pay good salaries and benefits; I feel responsible for each and all of them.

I also feel responsible for our investors, typically pooled retirement accounts and pension funds, who have entrusted us with their future. I feel responsible to the banks, who loaned us precious and now scarce capital to expand our business. The burdens weigh heavily; we cannot fail; too many are counting on us and me specifically. This year has not been a good one for me to sleep.

The Company is a model corporate citizen. We are the leading property company in environmentally sustainable efforts. When we were public, we led the international Dow Jones corporate sustainability index. This year, as others cut back their environmental efforts, we launched a Sustainability Institute to fund and coordinate worldwide research on sustainability efforts and results in the commercial property sector.

We support key charities to help those in need. When the Property Council solicited donations to provide for homeless kids, we gave more than any other company in Australia by far. When neighbors lost their homes in the Victoria bush fires last year, we donated land and built a house, which was auctioned and all the proceeds donated to the bushfire victims.

We are the number one rated company in Australia for worker safety. Ask the Mayor of Sydney about us, and she will describe us as a poster company for corporate citizenship.

We did not reach this precipice of corporate life or death by poor performance or bad investments. The Company is outperforming all of its peers. Our office buildings are among the best in Australia; maintenance and presentation are unsurpassed. Our tenant retention is an unheard of 80%. As industry wide average rents decline, ours are increasing; as market vacancy increases, our vacancy diminishes. Our performance is above budget and all expectation. Our portfolio is exceptional and our employees even better.

We stand at the edge because of the global liquidity crisis. We have loans that were made when banks had money and these loans are now maturing when capital is unavailable. There is no issue of our ability to repay the debt; we just do not have a billion dollars of cash to pay the loans off now.

We sit and wait for the call from a U.S. international bank, our lender facility agent, telling us that all the banks have agreed to extend the loan maturity from 4 June until 30 June. This large international bank was saved from failure by the U.S. Government. If they had failed, our hopes would likely have suffered similar fate.

No one benefits from our failure. The employees, who are productive members of the community, lose their income; investors lose their investment; banks lose part of their capital they will not be able to relend; the community loses a key and active force for good.

Under Australia law, if the Directors determine the Company will be unable to pay their bills in the next 12 months, the Directors must close the company and cease doing business. Failure to act accordingly is both a criminal and civil offense; continue doing business when you know you will default on a loan translates into jail time and loss of personal assets. The stakes are high and no one, including me, will take that chance.

Chapter 11 bankruptcy is a United States’ issue. Australia, and much of the non US world, does not treat debtors so kindly.

If Propco were closed due to ‘insolvency,’ a receiver will come in, liquidate the assets, and pay whatever proceeds to the creditors. If our portfolio were liquidated at fire sale prices, because potential buyers cannot access capital, it would result in major property devaluations and certain further bank defaults. It is probable, the property industry would collapse in a series of loan defaults triggered by asset devaluations, and the banks would fall next. The economy would be devastated; an economic depression almost a certainty.

Propco is one of thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands) of businesses around the world that rely on banks and related financial institutions for capital and liquidity. If major banks were allowed to fail, companies everywhere would fail – not because of poor performance but due to the sudden withdrawal of financial liquidity in global markets. A global depression would be the inevitable consequence.

Back in Room 6.03, the CFO’s Blackberry phone buzzes and then rings. Citibank has received the extension approvals; the risk of default has been pushed back until 30 June. The agent cautions, however, no one believes we can refinance the loan by 30 June and there will be no more extensions.

In the weeks that followed, staff worked day and night, weekdays and weekends to refinance the maturing debt. Thanks to the active leadership of key banks including a German bank, which was saved from illiquidity by the German Government, the loan was refinanced on 30 June, to the amazement of all participants except us.
Our employees continue to work productively, our investors continue with their retirement funding plans, our banks feel assured their loans will be repaid. The economy has stabilized giving hope that a recovery is near.

For those who argue that major banks should be allowed to fail and the Federal Reserve and other governments’ central banks should not have acted proactively to provide bank liquidity, I think their theories are not based on real people and real business.

Nanuk: A Dog's Life

A friend recently asked me if I liked dogs. I recalled an essay I wrote a few years ago about our family dog, which I enclose below.

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Nanuk was my third son. He was the only member of our family with four legs and a bark, but he was definitely a family member. Today, Nanuk died. And amidst the sadness that consumes me are my memories of him that I will take to my grave.

Ross was 8 years old and Andrew 13. It was an overcast day in San Diego even in Rancho Santa Fe, which lies inland from the Coast. My wife, Jill, was out of town, visiting her mother as I recall. Andrew had a soccer game in Rancho Santa Fe, and Ross and I were there to cheer him on. Ross’s soccer game started a couple hours after Andrew’s finished, and we boys had time to kill.

Across the street from the Rancho Santa Fe soccer field is Helen Woodward, a care and adoption facility for pets, especially dogs. With time on our hands and nothing better to do, we wandered across the street to Helen W. This was a fateful journey.

I grew up with a dog. Mandy was my best friend as a child. He watched over me when I was only crawling, and went everywhere with me when I was walking. I know the attachment that can form between a boy and his dog.

Andrew and Ross were immediately enthused about the idea of adopting a dog. As we wandered through the outdoor pens, Andrew was attracted to Charlie, one of the most enthusiastic and excited dogs in the place, but probably the ugliest dog too. Ross was attracted to a shy but comely dog that looked part golden retriever and part something else. I was concerned the shy dog would not be as friendly if adopted. I was wrong.

When Jill returned, she was confronted by two bubbling boys who could not wait to share their excitement about what they saw at Helen Woodward. It was not fair. Jill had never spent much time around dogs and was definitely not a fan of owning a dog. But no one could resist the excitement that poured from the two boys with ever more promises of taking care of the pet. Her resistance melted under the earnest pleadings of her young sons.

Upon returning to Helen Woodward, Jill did not care for Charlie. That was okay, because another family was there and wanted to adopt the non-stop jumping and gyrating Charlie. Ross’s pick was being viewed by a single, working woman who wanted to adopt him. Jill liked the shy dog’s looks and demeanor, and the Helen Woodward staff could not resist Ross’s imploring that Nanuk be given a home with a family instead of a single person. We left that day with Nanuk.

It did not take Nanuk long to adopt his new family. He had lived with a woman for four years and then had been given up for adoption when she lost a place to keep him during the day when she was at work. Nanuk was not shy; he had been rejected by the only person he ever was attached to and put in a sterile pen. He was depressed and probably feared added rejection. Once he realized we would not reject him, he moved right into the family circle.

Soon after we adopted Nanuk, Jill had Nanuk at the Veterinarian, who discovered that Nanuk had hip dysplasia. This is a degenerative disease that eventually leads to loss of the use of hind legs. The Vet explained to Jill that’s Nanuk’s mobility would be affected as he aged, and it would probably affect his lifespan. Jill called Helen Woodward to complain, and, their staff apologized and suggested Jill return the dog and they would return it to the original owner (who did not want it). The Helen Woodward staff did not feel anyone would want a dog with serious health impairment.

We decided to keep Nanuk, realizing we would have to face his mobility issue some day. The boys had quickly become attached to Nanuk and Nanuk to them, and we could not bear the thought of rejecting Nanuk and sending him to where he was not wanted and could not be cared for.

Nanuk became best buddies with the boys. Wherever they went, he wanted to be there to. He did have a few unusual characteristics at first. He felt the need to defend Jill against strange men – i.e. any males Nanuk did not personally know. Whenever one approached Jill, whether it is at the shopping center or in the front yard, Nanuk would growl and bark. I had nothing to do with this characteristic; it must have been related to something in Nanuk’s memory and his former owner. Eventually, Nanuk learned no one was going to harm Jill, and he stopped his ferocious demeanor and begged everyone for pets and treats without discriminating sexes.

The second characteristic was his insistence that he pee everywhere possible to leave his scent. At soccer games, this included lawn chairs, scorecards that fell to the ground, and the conventional bushes, fire hydrants, and the like. Nanuk’s desire to be the last to pee somewhere stayed with him throughout his life.

In contrast to his initial shyness, he became the friendliest dog who ever lived. That is an overriding statement, but I believe it to be true. He liked all dogs, people, and other animals in that order. He would run up to strange dogs, his tail wagging, eager to sniff and be sniffed. Some dogs are not so friendly, and Nanuk never won a fight. When attacked, Nanuk would lie down and whimper. I don’t think he was afraid; I think he was disappointed his new acquaintance was not to be a friend.

I remember one time a man with a pony came to a children’s party on our cul-de-sac in Houston. He also had a fierce looking, huge Doberman pincher staked to his truck with a big metal chain restraining this made-for-movies monster. Nanuk saw the creature and immediately trotted over to welcome the dog to the neighborhood. Jill and I looked with horror as Nanuk approached the creature. Jill screamed, “Nanuk you idiot, stop.” Nanuk didn’t care. He went up to the creature sniffed the surprised monster, who was then pulled back by his owner; afraid the Doberman was about to kill Nanuk. Nanuk plodded back to our yard, tail wagging, and peed on the nearest bush. For Nanuk, every day was a happy day.

In San Diego, I would walk Nanuk at night before bed. Not once, but twice, Nanuk encountered a skunk and ran up to the furry black and white slow moving denizen. Nanuk’s tail was wagging 90 miles an hour, at least. But when he went to sniff his new friend, he discovered that some animals really smell bad. One night, Andrew and I washed Nanuk with Campbell’s Tomato Soup. I had read somewhere that tomato soup helped reduce skunk smell. Afterward, Nanuk smelled like very bad soup.

Nanuk tried to befriend wild coyotes in San Diego. Fortunately, the stray coyotes always ran away from the tail wagging, hard charging dog. Fortunately, one of us was always close behind and pulled Nanuk back from chasing into the canyon after his wild cousin.

Our move to Houston was difficult for all the family; but Nanuk was probably the first to adjust. Andrew and I flew to Houston first, because Andrew had high school band camp before the start of high school, and Jill and Ross needed to stay in San Diego. I remember waiting in baggage claim with Andrew, looking for Nanuk’s kennel to arrive. When it did, Andrew went running to the kennel, opened it, and exclaimed, “Nanuk is okay.” What a relief amidst Houston’s hot August weather.

For the next few nights, Andrew and I slept on the floor of the new house without benefit of any furniture, which was due to arrive the week following. We could have stayed at a hotel, but Andrew was worried that Nanuk would be lonely in the empty new house. So the three of us, Father, Son, and Dog slept together on Andrew’s bedroom floor.

Nanuk soon made friends around the cul-de-sac. His home away from home was the Quirk’s, who lived next door. Ann and George always welcomed Nanuk whenever he came over for a visit, which was every day. He played with their three dogs, opened the toy chest in their house and helped himself to their toys, begged for his daily treat, and hung out. When we could not find Nanuk, he was usually at the Quirks.

George Quirk recounts the story of when he was napping in the rocking chair, and Nanuk showed up. The front door was not secure, and Nanuk head butted the door, as he was prone to do, and walked in. When George did not notice Nanuk (because he was asleep), Nanuk barked and nearly frightened George out of his chair.

Nanuk became a party animal on Broken Bough Circle. Whenever there was an outdoor, pool party, especially with kids (who tended to drop food on the ground), Nanuk wanted to be there. He let us know he needed to go out (presumably to go to the bathroom) and would disappear into neighbor Jay’s backyard to bogie with the kids, who loved him and fed him pizza. I would wander over after a while, claim Nanuk, and apologize for his intrusion, which no one ever seemed to mind.

Nanuk was always quick to want to meet new visitors, especially workmen who may have lunches to share. One afternoon, I was looking for Nanuk around the cul-de-sac, calling his name without response. Then the Mexican workers who were working on Jay’s garage begin hollering “Nanuk” in heavy accents. I was mystified. How did they know Nanuk? Sure enough Nanuk emerged from behind the garage, appreciative of the tacos he shared with the workers for lunch. Nanuk was everybody’s friend.

When we first moved to Houston, Nanuk needed a job. Everyone needs tasks to do so they feel productive and contribute to the well being of the society around them. Nanuk’s self-chosen task was to make sure all the squirrels stayed up in the trees. I do not know why Nanuk assumed this arduous task, for there were many squirrels in the cul-de-sac, but he did. For years, until he became slow and lame, Nanuk would charge out of the house, and run around until he was satisfied all the squirrels were up in the trees. One time, in the back yard, Nanuk actually caught a squirrel. Jill and I think the squirrel fell out of a tree or off the telephone wire; because Nanuk was never that fast and catching a squirrel was his impossible dream. With the squirrel at his feet, Nanuk just did not know what to do. He had never caught a squirrel, and was unprepared for that eventuality. The squirrel was dazed (supporting the tree falling theory), and when Nanuk came inside, the squirrel wandered off, unhurt but dazed.

Today, Ross and I took Nanuk to the Veterinarian in Houston. Nanuk could no longer rise or walk without pain. Otherwise, he was alert and loving. The San Diego’s Vet’s warning had come true. But we made the right decision then. Nanuk had a wonderful life, filled with love and affection. And he gave us ten years of unquestioning love. Oh how I miss those big, longing brown eyes, the enthusiasm and wagging tail to greet me when I came home tired from out-of-town travels, the constant companionship for all of us, and knowing that my other two sons had someone to turn to who always, without question, understood their side of every story. Thank you, Nanuk.